You give me hard tasks to do, Miss,
You make me stand on one leg
I wish I could know all the things
But how do I know, I beg?
You ask me a thousand questions
I must answer them right
I wish my little brain knew everything
But not everybody can be as bright!
You ask me to do the hardest sums
I must get the steps all right
You think I am one of those bums
But not everybody can be as bright!
You write in my diary I'm doing bad
You make me show it to dad
Though you know I'm not as bright
You cause me my bitterest plight!

You think my excuses utterly lame
Finding fault with whatever I say
But though I'm not as bright as them
I'll surely grow up one day!

I keep tonight for you
On my porch will light a strobe
For you to find my way
Tiptoe in silken robe.
I keep tonight for you
Smell wind of olden breath
When your shadow is on my door
I’ll kindle fires of yore.
I keep tonight for you
On a bed that was never made
Hunt where those years flew
Find them in drunken head.
I keep tonight for you
In my eyes the stars gleam
For you to find my way
And walk into my dream.

Close your eyes and stretch your palm
I tell her.

She doubts my intention.

don’t worry dear
have no fear
I mean no harm

And as she spreads her palm
I place three coins.

She looks askance.

one for your love
one for your trust
one for ever being by my side*
I tell her.

I can go any far to tease her!

After first week runs out the thin pay
With price soaring high needs growing by day
The hard three weeks hardly pass by
Bad times stay longer don’t ask the reason why!

If only the month were cutely weekly sleek
Thin as the monthly pay spread for one week
Men would have worn happily beaming face
And not waste hours on a frantic goose chase!

A month is not richer with more days pushed in
Three weeks of workload less peace more din
One week is quite fine a month of seven day
So it stay long enough make do with thinnest pay!

The purse makes a clamor drained of all strength
A month be made a week reduce the long length
Prune three hard weeks leaving a week to stay
To make men stay happy make do with thinnest pay!

In the village today is one more widow.

Only last night
on the warm love bed
was smudged her sindoor
all over forehead!

Her skin is still raw with his claw,

his neck fell today to the jungle's law.

Beyond the walls of sandbars and streams
waves break into silent white foams
often I've crossed them in my dreams
beckoned by the distantly looming haze.

The sky goads me to traverse the stretch
clouds hinder to ask what if rises the tide
the sea is all around in deadly embrace
her monstrous curls in hunger bared wide.

Climb the sandbars and reach her remoteness
calls the wind of the sizzling September
days as this would be gone in haste
shelled in memories to be ever remembered.

I slip into the lagoon in a drunken trance
the ripples break into a victorious song
the sea she breaks into a joyous dance
the time is here and the tides won't be long.

Never short of love for him
the son lends his father his shorts.

The poor man was making do with one
washing it and drying in the sun
till his son gifted him when
ran out his luck by untimely rain.

It rains untimely too when love ascends
the son to his father a timely gift lends
be it a shorts or a piece of cloth
a small declaration of love's sweet oath.

This timely lend brings his untimely tears
he hides it from the giver as done all these years
enjoys the bliss of the hug on his skin
wearing his shorts wearing love within.

Can't be a theme for a poem,
poets are jobless.

When the evening glimmers day slowly turns dead
I peek at my watch sweet six in my head
Walk in windy sprint in cheerful childly gait
To reach home in time meet you sweet mate!

When the few hours seeming like weeks
Roll out prolonged till they reach six
I pick up my bag leave the tedium behind
To reach home in time my sweet mate in mind!

When the day unfolds bland time slowly ticks
The clock acts too lazy to reach the magic six
I hold on the belief the evening won’t be late
To ferry me in time to my waiting sweet mate!

When nothing seems to tick except my weary watch
As it trundles into six I say thank you very much
For though you ran so lazy reached six at any rate
To tell the time is ripe to rush home for sweet mate!

When each hour passes mundanely alike
Work drags slowly painting the day prosaic
Past its burned hours beyond the toil’s sweat
Chimes the magical six it’s time for sweet mate!

She has her secret magic
to keep men's hopes alive
she's truly fantastic
the girl the woman the wife

On earth the heavenly flower
in color's riot blooming wild
south wind and summer's shower
god's face is she girl child

The morning though passes to noon
times in her wings fly
she's a woman too soon
the woman of my eye

The woman of all weather
without her man is woe-man
she's wife sister mother
the way only a woman can

She fathoms what men don't tire
see her heart burned and holed
till she walks the whole length of fire
and be the woman in their eye old

Whenever I go to the roof to spend some time my own
find the chunk of the past I left memories rusty grown
see there shadows of father hear his walking feet
if I strain my senses hard even hear his heart beat!

I hear there the lost footsteps in the wind faintly sighs
in the dark nooks imprints of years that quickly passed by
find there the ghost of dreams she and I had spun
their ashes now scattered from our memories long gone!

I see there the old me in the corner standing aloof
unaged ungrown my fossil on the roof
by the light of the fireflies he still searches me
rewrites in the moonglow long discarded poetry!

On the roof times are not dead they merely abscond
hide under the hyacinth of the night's silent pond
I find them lurking there sounds and sights of yore
for times once lived never go from us anymore!

I hold my ears keen
Keep eyes opened wide
But can't solve the riddle
Of who's on whose side.

Today Tom heaps praise
Showers laurels too many
Tomorrow hell is raised
Tim is Tom's enemy.

How fast makes Tom amend
Finds Tim full of flaws
Pete is now his friend
Tim Tom unfollows.

He digs out wrongs of Tim
Finds him crooked and sly
So inducts in his team
Pete the nicest guy.

I can't hold back smile
Though at end of wit
How friendship is volatile
Sour turns a relation sweet.

I wonder why it's so
With life such a brief ride
We never really grow
Feel the need to be on same side.

I called him the tin box man.

His smile was sweeter than all his cakes and pastries.

A man left poor after a hard day’s work
Never saw on his face smiles unmarked

Tin box man may I have one
But I have no money

They’re all for you honey

Then in the box would dip his hand
On my palm a cake would land

But I have no money tin box man

Pay it back when you can

Then he would deliver his trademark speech

When you grow up and become rich
I would come with an empty can
Fill that up for the tin box man.

Never saw one passing cloud on his face
Ill clothed unshaved never bereft of grace
In his box holding what deep mysteries
Spreading the sweetness of cakes pastries!

He is long gone but lingers his trace
When I encounter depression’s face
He stands beside me my smiles unlocks
Locks away all sadness in his tin box!

To all poets writing hourly poem
I offer my unqualified admiration
Place them with honor in my hall of fame
For truly glorifying our poetic nation.*

They keep the windows open never shut the mind’s door
Can’t suppress them schedules of work hectic daily chore
For who knows when the sky passes by stops dead the falling rain
Uncared a feeling rolls by goes unaddressed angst of pain!

Isn’t a rainbow painted out there on doorstep waiting the season
A bird is chirping the song of hope giving life a compelling reason
Isn’t a face waiting to be seen love pining to be released from a heart
Who knows when dies a river midstream each moment’s scenes depart!

The farther these poets go they dream for a farther reach
To hunt out the dark demons blind alley’s fearsome witch
Who knows when the light goes out burns out the fiery sun
This body turns to trails in dust with so much little yet done!

Just when you think
the road leads to nowhere
crops up the moss veiled house

its crumbling bricks make greyer
the sky with the hush of twilight
and you rue with melancholy
the night under its roof assigned for you

but the old man like a seasoned spider
lets you forget you're trapped for the night
to his web spun from timeworn earth
as you stare engrossed upon his face
outlined by glowworm sparks

he recounts it was all marshland
he grew into bowl of harvest
and how he was blessed with
the most beautiful woman on earth
then reaching the crescendo
his words thin into whispers
when he tells you his two poor eyes
were not enough to hold her beauty
so she putting a stone on her heart
spread wings on a night like this

the cornfield wilted
he wizened into an endless wait
with gracious death saving his bones
to lighten his heart to a stranger
who comes alone.

I have waited through the day
To go home in the evening
And tell you what I've to say
For the bliss they would bring.
So many things I forgot
In the morning's rush
Each pearl of a thought
Will from my lips gush.
For the joy to knock your door
I must hasten and go fast
All my thoughts in store
Must reach you till they last.
I know you'll be there
Waiting at the window
Your face glowing fair
In your eyes the ocean's flow.
I must lift my face up
When you will take me in
You'll know what I mean
And kiss me on my chin.
I would die to bare my heart
Drawing you close to me
But not knowing where to start
I'll just babble in glee.

I’ll see what’s birthed from your mind
I’ll read as much as poetry
Today I’ll make time from grind
Who knows what tomorrow will be!

I’ll look for the face of your write
I’ll walk your traveled distance
Today I’ll search in your light
Your thoughts’ all hidden nuance!

I’ll peep into each poem you paint
I’ll delve for the pearls within them
Today some time I’ll rent
To catch your passion’s revealed flame!

Today is the time must grab it
Explore your mind’s tapestry
Of love heartbreak and wit
Who knows what tomorrow will be!

Where's your lady?
asked the chimpanzee
the bear looked askance

the tiger growled
zebras rolled
macaws looked in trance.

Where's she
your lady pretty
queried the lone rhino

it's not good
this solitude
roared the lion with raised eyebrow.

Did you lose your way
this November day
when the sky's blazing blue

this fair weather
you aren't together
how come asked the shrew.

Your face it shows
shouted hippos
this fine day of November

boars did grunt
scowled elephant
you're lost without her.

They were so true
alone at the zoo
emptiness surrounded me

daylight though gold
sky blue bold
I roamed unhappily.

She is too ill today
Not a day to feel poetic
Virus laid fever’s prey
Pray work the antibiotic.

Her eyes today in weakness closed
Her head sunk in pillow
Verses are dry in a mind morose
Pains her face in fever’s glow.

At six o’clock I whispered to her
Time for the antibiotic
She saw me in a hazed blur
Not a word she could speak.

Teatime came she didn’t get up
I still made it for two
In trembling hand she held the cup
She couldn’t refuse my brew.

Gnaws me despair when she’s ill
Still a novice at basic kitchen work
Never learned the skill to make the day’s meal
Where are things I ***** in the dark.

She says feels no good to lie down like this
My fever is gone with the sweat
I know for anything she would ever miss
Seeing me off at the gate!

Stray cats dreaming of leftover nibbles
gather when I feed the cats I call my pets.

Wistfully they look at the chewing jaws
that would pick clean the fish from rice
and maybe leave at most a half morsel.

The tomcat I wrote about some while ago
has not since been seen
breathing only as a lingering ache uncomfortably undefined.

But I know from the crop of the present visitors
some I would sniff in the next mango laden summer
with opaque diamonds in my eyes.

Do I get the job sir?

Tomorrow we can confirm.

He needed an employment so badly

A boy of nineteen
An would be graduate
Thrown into the vortex of life
To shoulder responsibilities
A boy of his age would not normally be required to do.

He touched his right hand on his head
And said

I promise to come back* tomorrow.

He went out on the road
With the dream of tomorrow
Little sunlit little brighter than today

His mind drifted someplace else...

His head crushed under the wheels of a bus!

I see him standing before me
His hand on his head
His lips parting in the vow

I promise to come back tomorrow.

Have you ever wept for someone
You don’t know have never seen
For you just a piece of news
Another accident
Another death on the road?

Then you would understand
Why my tears were inconsolable

Come back boy
Come back somehow
*tomorrow

Baby, you were born just today
Seen not the bumpy thorny life
The pitfalls many on the way
Tomorrow’s struggle and strife!

Baby, you were born just today
Yet to take the rough ride
Morrow is only a day away
We’ll not be on your side!

Baby, you were born just today
Days will go in windy rush
Seem just a fleeting moment’s stay
Before times mercilessly pass!

not behind everything is my hand
not everything even I understand
I try to craft from chaos some order
leave some unfinished some on the border.

my home though cosmos I reside within
without being choosy about skin and sin
the good and the bad I have to take along
like I take in my stride all right and wrong.

if you have faith I make some sense
to the faithless I'm just nonsense
so made I'm no grudge can harbor
satan and angel find my favor.

I feel burdened when see the mankind
finding in everything my hidden hand
not realizing if only I had a magic wand
would have made this world an unblemished land.

I wish I could be like the street urchin
Unpampered uncared but not sad
Wear daylong a cloudless grin
Be in manners and etiquette bad!

I want to be bad
I need to be bad
Am too shackled by the good

I want to be like him
The street urchin
Carelessly capriciously crude!

Too long I have been by the good enslaved
Hold captive in its pretentious cask
Too long for good I have naggingly craved
Let it cut out for me all my task!

*I want to be bad
I need to be bad
Am dying for the untasted brew

I want to be like him
The street urchin
Treating good too good to be true!

On bed they stirred
when went out light

the couple whispered
past midnight

so fast it passed
the seasons rushed

of time together
for thirty years!

Here in a sleepy hamlet
in the shadow of Top Hill
amid barren aridity
I am hiding.
A runaway
from my family, friends,
familiar faces,
and also
from myself!
Why I call them friends?
My family
who cares coz I earn,
friends
all fair weather,
familiar faces
that breed only contempt,
and the most deadly myself,
the untiring aspirer
in home, office, deals,
the macabre face on the mirror,
sartorially correct
refined manners
polished etiquette
but inside a greedy *****
ever ready to sell his soul
at the sight of a penny!
Here no one can find me
and I’ve to work hard
to turn my inside out
carry it atop Top Hill
for the sun to bake
the rains to wash
and the moon to bathe
my reincarnate!

On a mid summer’s day if the north wind blows
The sun goes hiding rain nests on eyebrows
You are madly joyous at this topsy-turvy
Your mind goes cartwheeling you feel carefree!
The weather turns cool blessed by the rain
Freeing your limbs from the summer's pain
The sky loses fierceness wearing the cloud’s tone
You are tempted to run wild in gay abandon!
By some mystic touch the day turns angel
Don’t touch it too hard don’t remove her veil
Drink the day softly go and have your fill
A god-gifted summer’s day with unexpected chill!

The space I have
needs someone to fill up
and found none so far.

I cursed the man for invading
into the May notes of casuarinas
on a space all my own
before the sun was alluringly soft
on the tender hearts by the sea
finding love in whispered notes
sheltered by the swaying trees.

Found many and none
and their vacuous echoes
question where I failed
or was there precious silence
speaking it wasn't a void
that I ravaged into sands
of futile recollections and laments.

The mercury was falling
over the man as I left him
and soon the creed of hope
would break in like evernew waves
around a vacuum of empty space.

to tell you a secret
where my eyes roamed
while in the forest
where my eyes homed

if I can tell you without fear
and the secret you don’t take far
it was not the wild deer
my eyes were seeing her

to tell you a secret
what my lens caught
while in the forest
what pictures it got

if I can tell you without shame
and you rightly guess the answer
it was not following any game
but kept on catching her!

The road was all mud
she slipped with the drizzle
and you couldn't tell
the color she wore
but her big awed eyes
colored the land in all colors
making her lose breath
gazing at every little thing
till over the noise of lightning
boomed her father's voice
be fast girl before the rain is harder
when she would run for his hand
and slip again and again
counting fun at every fall
her eyes a glowing island
from the mud scarred face.

Once in the market
the man gave her a good wash
little knowing she was drenched
with all the dreams
eyes could ever see.

write a poem everyday
make it a daily habit
note whatever you've to say
the bitter or the sweet.

stare at the screen before you
or the page if it's so
there's always something new
awaiting your ink's flow.

some you've to dig not much
a few need delving deep
some may feel like feather touch
a few would make you weep.

sometimes the hand would just not move
at other would run like horse
sometimes the words would sing and groove
cry out like waves' roars.

while you write you may bleed
or kiss the blue like bird
jotting down is all you need
the inner voice that's heard.

the one I got never to see
the one wiped out silently
yet the most precious

what could you have been child
killed as the fetus!

the one that was never born
whose smiles walls didn’t adorn
yet the most precious

what could you have been child
killed as the fetus!

the one never known to me
the one that was never to be
yet the most precious

what could you have been child
killed as the fetus!

the one my own broken piece
the one I would ever miss
and the most precious

what could you have been child
killed as the fetus!

Almost tattered with oil spots and all
when it was gifted I really can't recall
the colors are faded the surface rough
but in my possession is no better stuff.

The smell is old with layers of years
wiped bath water, sweat and tears
rubs me tender whispers sweetly
in love with you please don't leave me.

My old buddy without a name
hugs my skin covers my shame
post the showers it's been my muse
still not useless from years of use.

Why it's so special why can't I leave
the torn old thing holds love I believe
the touch of love that's never really gone
in a parting gift from the father to the son.

From the rooftop
I see the houses sleeping in moonlight

(My chance ascent to the roof
for a space to be aloof
begets this poem)

I know this stillness is deceptive

behind the half glow neon panes
or the wooden ones shut tight from light
beyond the dumb walls of white
tears and smiles are flowing
also grunts of despair
moans of flesh upon flesh
stopping at the skin
or going far down to that misty spot
and even far past all them
two hearts holding the flame
of years buried on the bed
a child still in their head
or there but really not there
somewhere too wide to build a bridge

(Thirty minutes past nine
the toy houses in the moonlight shine
in their chambers holding life not seen)

And I atop one such house know
it's time to go down the stairs
to take up the script again
and write and act and write
for the length of night.

Clatter clutter on the pave, feet on the run
furrowed brows faces grave, life is no fun
home to work work to home, time is so mean
to and fro on the track, heads in a spin.

Red for the pedestrian, green for the car
quicker may save the day, sights are a blur
conspires the digit light, ticks ever slow
holds up adds to fright, the cruel red glow.

Just on the other side, a few blocks more
you are late again, ears hear the roar
had they only known, the hurdles on the way
the daily mad struggle, to save the day's pay.

The road is clear now, on a quick glance
here's the time to move, grab the prized chance
clatter clutter on the pave, feet on the run
blood spreads on the tar, redder in the sun.

Happiness I would let the world know
the griefs would be buried in my mind
when I take the last bow
would love to leave a joyous trail behind.

Smiles I would let the world see
the tears would lie hidden in my eyes
when the earthly bond sets me free
would love to leave a memory of sunrise.

Dark nights they are all mine
rivers of sorrow in my veins
I would tell you only of sunshine
would love to leave no trace of my pains.

Little happiness is all I would expose
my sketchbook of each silver line
when the days for me come to close
the graved sadness would be all mine.

Left there as they were
As orderly he liked them to be
With her heart’s burning fire
She dusts them to keep alive memory.

His shoes make her pine for his feet
She finds him in his hanging shirt
She wouldn’t surrender the years’ treat
Won’t let those times fall apart.

She holds the waves from washing his trail
Does it with a dour commitment
Holding on till she would herself set sail
To be with him in the firmament!

what from my own kind I hide,

in strangers confide!

she is almost done
with one full turn
on her axis,
venus reclines
as the east designs
a farewell kiss!

Buried in the quagmire of questions

the lonely traveler gasps.

Faith suffocates, belief stifles

and he seeks answers no more.

He regrets he walked into a one way trapdoor.

Put the bait, lure the mouse
Trap it in the wooden cage-house
It has gnawed enough, nibbled much
The trapdoor shuts at the softest touch.
Have no pity, show no kindness
Be merciless on this gutter's race
Hunt it out from the darkest nook
Don't be swayed by its humble look.
If your heart makes a noise
Listen to your head, you've no choice
Once it's in, drown it deep
Without remorse, for a good sleep!

In what hidden pain
says he

*I'll never love again.

The more I travel

*why it seems still less traveled?

The temple rises
high above the humid earth.

The sun looking through the playful clouds
colors the terracotta in the golden hue
of God's emotions
long forgotten by the travellers
down on his earthly abode.

They’re almost gone now a vanishing tribe
Peddlers of fresh sweets honeys from hive
Sellers of fish heads such sundries on head
Toys and bangles and blankets for bed.

Don’t see them around those struggling men
Making the choice of voice trudging the lane
Hoping to sell one piece in dream of gain
Faceless wind ringer in sun’s bite and rain.

Gone are those plaintive cries on summer noon
Raising road’s dust on trail singing the tune
Traders of trinkets girls’ ribbon hairpin
Yoyo and plastic top with endless spin.

Why the times ruined them made them a flop
Sellers travelers with head-full of shop
Sending their song of hope past locked in door
None could now fill that space nothing anymore.