serves a lifetime well
a man's clock

without the l.

Be there at the clock tower sharp at 6 in the evening
Pleaded her note adding she needed to tell something
6oclock in the evening how long seemed that hour
With a quarter still to go I was under the clock tower.

In me what she had seen to me what she would say
What would propose the girl that lived a block away
I had seen her a few times she didn’t look that impressive
They had been there a few months and were about to leave.

Was she in love with me the girl with a drab freckled face
Our paths crossed a few times though me she didn’t address
Maybe I didn’t know it she fell for me on the first sight
The thought gave me a shiver in that uncanny evening twilight.

Seconds moved in year’s speed I stood in the yellow streetlight
An emotion started to stir in me inside a light glowed bright
A cloud had gathered above me the air smelled of a shower
10 minutes had passed by then with me under the clock tower.

Why I felt upsurge of something as I reread that girlish scrawl
Beckoning to share a secret with me bearing an urgent call
Was it something to do with me or she had something else in mind
My heart beat rapid in feverish strokes I had only 5 minutes to find.

3 minutes to 6 opened up the clouds came down a heavy downpour
She must come now to tell me what she mustn’t hold it anymore
The clock chimed 6 men ran for shades only me was under clock tower
She didn’t turn up it was her call my heart lay bleeding in the shower.

Next day they moved out to someplace else where I didn’t ever know
I caught a bad cold and but for that note I got nothing more to show
Even now in some evening when it so happens I get stuck in a shower
I wonder what secret she had for me for sharing under the clock tower.

To be fulfilling is what I always wish
Each day of mine to run smooth and right
Always happens something to diminish
Clip wings of the brightest day on sight.

When dawn quietly opens up eyelid
Reveals a world incredibly fine
I pray to god the least that I need
Is a sky tinted gold in sunshine.

Soon from speck of a cloud grows a storm
Thunders roar lashes rain blizzards blow
Hopes are torn on the path strewn with thorn
Lost is all of the dawn’s pearly glow.

When the night finds me stalled on day’s grave
Shedding tears for its going unfulfilled
Answers god for you fullness though I saved
Your acting a cloud maker got it killed.

thirty years is too thick a cobweb
says the Shepherd at the Bourne
though I know you're looking for her youth
and you aren't alone
how old was she? twenty?
red bindi and sari on head
newly wed ravishingly pretty
but no negatives I'm afraid
a few come up these creaking stairs
love's martyrs long survive
hold fore me their hearts bare
count on my archive
like you they seek that fateful face
where time stands evergreen
lost path invites one more retrace
a rewind to youthful skin
I tell them time's too thick a cobweb
with you I too grieve
sorry sir I have no negative
nothing's left to retrieve.

As I rest my eyes in their shade
I smell them
my fingers
and smell
objects I’ve touched
from hour one.
I try to smell through
the layers of odors
the faintest from morn’s playing
with her hair,
the less precious ones,
toothpaste, tea, newspaper
soap, keyboard,
the sandwich at lunch -
a cocktail of smell
I picked
as I live another day.

To all music morons
Glued to their earphones
The look-alike clones
Sunk in the dune of tunes
In the crowded buses
In public places
With drooping eyes like a yogi
Cracking heads and bursting ears
Thinking it the only escape
Salvation’s gateway
Balm for boredom
Pleasure’s pinnacle,
Don’t just fritter away
The one chance to be here
For a brief while
And leave with a blind existence
And a blasted hearing,
And before it’s late
Redraw your fate
Take off the headset
Open the yogic eyes
And in the yogi’s spirit
Give the world a good look
Recreate in her beauties
Make her melody your pastime
Her rhythm your heart’s rhyme,
So you don’t regret
When your time comes along
That you never could tell a bird from her song!

i sit across her
on the round table

i see her delicate hands
twirling on the spoon
on this ethereal summer noon
when she looks incredibly pretty
beneath the cobwebbed ceiling
amid the Doppler noise of the city
her eyes on the coffee
and mine on her.

The black cat brings bad luck,
how low stupid men can stoop
is beyond your imagination,
literate but never really
liberal but not liberated
from long held prejudices.

Drive that black kitten away,
don't look at it,
it shows up at your home means
bad times are on the way.

The cute little kitten breathes heavy
chased from one door to the other
without the least idea why
seeking the comfort of love
is such a big sin.

A crumpled layer on the evening tea
Says of a fate long awaited
We find ourselves alone you and me
Without knowing when the daylights fade!
The smell of seasons is still around
The mystic brushes in the sky
The glorious world its beauties abound
We never know when the years pass by!
Still a little place is there warm and bright
That throbs with the colors of night
Without the strength of senses and sights
It pulsates beyond fading daylights!

Under the big clock at the station
From all the comings and goings
Her eyes keenly watch
For the face that would end her wait.

At the arrival terminal of the airport
From the many faces streaming out
His wait desperately needs the name
He’s carrying on a board.

At the gate the lone security
Dozes in the summer heat,
Awakened hours waiting for a threat
He encounters it in his dream.

The excruciating pain tearing her within
Blurring faces and fading sounds
In joy’s agony she waits
For her baby to cry!

Bayonet and helmet, go may get killed
Waiting for your blood the baying battlefield
The day is hot the sun a smoky ball
Blazing guns boom bodies freely fall.
It's only might, all about power
You hope just once you could smell a flower
Loved ones are gone, home far away
You could do little, you didn't have a say.
Till you came here you wore a hero's smile
Ready to go on combat with an enemy so vile
Your courage is now pierced needled with fears
Your throat is lumpy dry, eyes fill with tears.
Bayonet and helmet, go ruin your dream
You may not come alive, chances are slim
The devils that have fired youthful imagination
Will call you martyr, you died for the nation.

If ever you find my face
Shadowed in clouds of glooms
My lips bereft of smile’s grace
In my eyes despair looms,
Rest your hands upon mine
Keep them there awhile
To see once more the sunshine
Once more a beaming smile!
There’s no pain so strong
Your hands cannot heal
No chasm so long
Your touch cannot fill!

Saturdays will never be the same.

My Saturdays

not seeing him a fortnight
is he gone with the light in his eyes
to the land of eternal light?

Come Saturdays

he doesn't follow me anymore
in his staggering walk to my door
hiding his worldly pains
for a morsel of my handful grains

Come Saturdays

he isn't waiting on my way
in another aching day
unable to stand on his feet
but not giving up giving
his silent greet

Come Saturdays

I utter his name

*My Saturdays will never be the same.

The prelude is a dark cloud
On the soil the drop’s din
Overcoming the arid shroud
The earth is once again green.
From the soil the earthworm burrows
Will pour out heart’s hidden streams
Burying the slumber of the morose
Reviving the dormant dreams!

I was honing my voice
he was building his muscles
to impress our common interest.

Whenever she was at the roof
he was seen doing squats and push-ups
I was heard singing love songs
taking the notes to that high scale
where my voice invariably cracked
and his bones creaked with exercises.

The three roofs became one battlefield
where two warriors would rather die fighting
than give up the princess to the other.

One day she would smile at me
when I would extend the limit of my voice
the repertory of my vocal talent
but for reasons best known to her
the very next day she would feign
I wasn't existing on the roof
and it was all muscles her eyes got stuck into.

Then she stopped coming to the roof.

The two warriors had only each other as company
the days were never the same
for she was married off to have new interest
and having lost the race for common interest
he started singing mournful songs
and I decided it was time
to give voice to my muscles.

Eyes wide awake
Mind takes no break
Sleep afar,
Only on show
Thru a slit on window
A lone star,
In that space
It shows its face
Of loneliness,
Does it like me
Need company
In the nightly recess?

The mellow winter sun falls on the newspaper

he loves it with the wisp of the steam
rising from the finest porcelein

his morn's elemental happiness

another blessed day, he thought
staring at the ***
and the two cups filled with the brew

a bitter smile passed his face

he drank from one cup

then the other...

*feeling he has company!

I have never thought it fit
to in poetry compete.

I thank Beryl Lew
HP's numero uno
for being among the few
to appreciate my sombrero.

Hide my rhymes,
I am storming
Difficult times!

Moonlight washed me in its white crane wing
And she didn’t know I was far away
Quietly leaving her door!

Each glistening grain spoke her pain
Cajoling me to go back to her warmth
And not court the windswept shore!

How would they know I was not there seeking love
But dig deep the earthen night
Find something more!

Something more than love
More treasurable more eternal
Waiting to be discovered in that lunar carnival!

The sea knew the secret
But the waves wouldn’t return
What’s destined as a lover’s fate!

As the night waned in hush
Dimmed the moonshine
Slowed the wind’s rush

I stood on her door
Begged her
And she took me in her warmth

She knew

*I couldn’t be far!

Under scorching sun
On asphalt road
In knee deep water!

Love stories are not meant to be lived
you know that from the deleted faces
and vanished traces
of the ones once most valuable to you.

I don't get you I said
don't I feel a regret
for the women i loved
but was never able to live with

don't they still haunt me?

Regret is not the word
the man was adamant,
it's more a mourning for your failure
a tormenting reminder of an undefined deficiency
that you were not up to them
or in the wrath of missing the target
they were not up to you
and then he fired the killing shot

what you remember is not the love
years have wiped out the details
leaving you with the embers of unaccomplished missions
which in the first place
you didn't deserve to be a part of.

I hated his departing words.

True love lives in the stories
and love stories are not meant to be lived.

Come unlock my door
Everything here they ****
Beckons me a new shore
Take me for the last walk.

Count of time is past me
How long I have been in this hole
Only way I can be free
Is when you liberate my soul.

I make now only one plea
Prolong not my agonizing pain
Please have on me the mercy
Stop me from dying time again.

When I walk freedom’s last mile
Walk out the death laden cell
Fortune would upon me smile
Make me a place in hell.

Hidden in the dark foliage of a mango tree
It croons a ‘hammer on the metal’ lullaby
The night has yielded to a youthful morn
It’s a long call and the day is just born.
I look up and see its crimson head
Its plumage of blue, green, and red
It seems certain with no hint of doubt
It would ceaselessly call the whole day out.
It isn’t in hurry, doesn’t care being late
Knows only persistence in seeking its mate
For dipping in romance in her sun-tanned wings
And build a nest together for cute siblings.
The two together in their most joyful mood
Would peck a deep hole on some dead wood
And in no time, the babies would arrive
To make the dead tree vibrant and alive.
‘Tunk-tunk’ it goes on in the rising heat
That sounds like a strike on a copper sheet
I know it wouldn’t stop, today is the date
For its tunes to find its lover and mate.

When the sun slants
on wings smelling fish
fly the cormorants
to where the home is.

Their memory is a lake
with bountiful food
bill's all the take
that makes living good.

In between the catch
when enough seems done
find a dry patch
hold the wings to sun.

If wishes were heard
it's all I would want
to be turned into a bird
and what else but cormorant!

A torn shirt smeared in red
On the table calmly sleeps the dead
Strewn around are organs and the heart
Incredible to imagine them as the departed’s part!
Useless as they are now experimental blocks
Drained of life heedless to the clocks
No love no emotion in the cold dim room
Is living natural or more so is doom?
Reeking of the dead eerie scissors sweep
One by one they cut strong and deep
Dismembering the lover cutting through the brave
But no show of courage when the abode is grave!
Drying bloods of passion drip from the dead
The once living corpse on the table goes fade
With no words or voice feelings blown away
He could at last make the coroner’s day!

The sky winked with stars
Fragrance of moonlight wafted through air
Passionately crooned a nightjar…
It was all in vain
They couldn’t penetrate my pain
Begot by a life not taking me far…
Slowly fell mute the cosmic theater.

suppose you aren't assured of the next meal
upon your head rules the sky
maggots are feeding on your free will
better seems the option to die.

suppose you've none to give company
not a soul to call your own
days seem to crawl with no hurry
nights only make you more alone.

suppose open road is where you stay
sometimes a tree to beat the sun
people are bent on moving away
you've no home for day-end run.

suppose you've nothing called privacy
can't afford the luxury of shame
you relieve yourself for all to see
don't recall if you ever had a name.

suppose you've to scavenge from dustbin
your dignity is trampled like road's dirt
could they all make you feel a poem within
write a line crystalline in your heart?

One good thing you did
and end of day
you are a man.

When winds at night on windows roar
wax runs out dies candle's flame
you would hear a knock upon door
a familiar voice calling your name.

Don't respond nor open the eyes
the voice is keen over winds' howl
grows it louder its pitches rise
scaring even the brave barn owl.

Pull the blanket up your head
you are safe so long you hide
lie dead quiet not move on bed
with mom asleep by your side.

Between the pause your fears mount
if is a chance to be found out
one two three the calls you count
but count it right leave no doubt.

Three times the voice would call your name
for it has no power to do any more
but move onto where dies a candle's flame
and a child is awake behind closed door.

Mud on her cheek
she catches crab
by the narrow creek

her frame is sleek
skin saline drab
bone rickety weak.

She makes no show
tides only know
taste of her knee

her hair's knotty lock
makes the wind to talk
feel her slowly.

Why I can't tell
on the mind's sail
she stirs a song

I find her so fair
upon a moment there
then she's gone.

I fall for her crab passions.

Her embracing chelae
Even when unhug
Surround me when she’s away
It breathes in me poetry
It makes me feel
What I want to be
Unmaking the dull and drab
Setting a mood
That this world is good
Still worth living
And the leaving
Will just be the frame
And the reward
That one word’s
most beautiful emotions!

I fall for her crab passions.

Softly coos my heart
For a quietness that shuts the door to
All the maddening buzz
And transcends me back
To that frozen time
When she gazed into my eyes
And I could tell
Without really knowing it
That it was love in the purest form
That I know now
And would die to get back -
The love that sprung from the womb
And cradled me for life!

The fingers close on the keyboard
With the urge to string alphabets
To vent the pouring from within
And to reach the final pleasure!
The sad macabre extensions of the hands
Stop in the silent gush of hollowness,
The tabs are not pressed,
No clicks rent the heart's void!
The emotions sinfully sick
Rebelliously withdraw,
The fingers reach out
For a vial of intoxication
To heal all wounds!
The fingers start tapping….

Fear waits upon its prey
where the light is a shamefaced girl

wind is a fragmented guest
where silence fools the unwary

to chirp the birds forget
where the baiter might be the bait

the hush is not all white
as in that ever ruling night
blood is spilled without sound.

Forlorn as the lovers' lost track
meanders the creek
in moans for the lost
shedding its sighs to the tides.

You couldn't believe
so quiet could be the croc
its eyes a wise sage
scales rigid rock

lay frozen on the mud
no flies could stir
stubbornly in trance
mind elsewhere

sixteen feet in size
dumb cool in creek
in the hermit's guise
lamblike tender meek

pounce it does when needs
not preys on what eats not
the human hunter feeds
on hatred and whole lot.

Shadows are taller
run-ups are smaller
throws don't go any far

morale is lower
bat moves slower
no more can hit a sixer.

Muscles aren't sturdy
movement is tardy
lethargic feet hardly run

only lean patches
missed easy catches
nobody says well done.

Can't see it clear
from daze of fear
fumbles my unsteady bat

the opponents dance
they don't miss a chance
the field shouts how's that!

I have a feeling
this body ain't willing
to run on the green anymore

yet the ****** mind
still hopes to find
one last three figure score.

Missed the ‘l’ typed the ‘r’
Clime became crime
Don’t think I strayed too far
It was in tune with the time

For man sees no harm
In Globe’s getting hot
If oceans rise changes the clime
Earth becomes a melting ***

More of rain more of drought
Heat and cold in excess
Earth’s heating up is not in doubt
It’s happening without redress

The rich they don’t feel the heat
Glowing too hot in wealth
It’s the poor who’ll take the hit
Scarce food will mean ill health

You may ask where’s the link
Between crime and climate
The answer is there within a wink
Scarcity drives up crime rate

Crops will fail when the globe gets warm
For we couldn’t forsake a motor ride
Didn’t foresee belching smoke’s harm
Cared not to take earth on our side

With little food to feed hungry stomachs
Not enough to sate belly’s growls
Folks will forage like the wolves’ packs
Will take to crime the innocent souls

As for me the seller of rhymes
Though they aren’t worth a dime
When hot climate breed lot more crimes
Surely will arrive my time

*The impoverished poet with his wand of poetry
Will roam the burning roads of asphalt
Singing his rhymes in tears of misery
Selling his balm amid tumult

I give you my heart son
For today you gave me my bread
And I knew it was time to pass the baton
Shift the crown on your head.

Today you passed me my bread
A precious gift in love I earn
To softly place on your head
The crown as it’s your turn.

I felt so great and so good
You’ve taken over my son
With the humblest of attitude
From my hand the long held baton.

Today as you passed me my bread
In the crossroad where we now stand
Happily I unburdened my head
Passed lovingly the baton from my hand.

Through the window of my cubicle
I see the day graying into night
And a world I can’t reach.
I yearn to come out
If only to see the corpses of the day
That passed by me unnoticed
Turning my world old
Unlived, stale and cold!
I see the birds fossilized
The trees bare and wizened
Songs are stifled moans
People as aloof and distant as dead!
I was born in a warm cubicle
And destined for a life in it
To dream of day from the dark
And long for a world I can’t reach!

Cumulonimbus
In crimson blush
Glowing healers,
Smoothly redresses
My day’s weariness
Its billowing pillars,
Pride’s epitomes
In shapely domes
My worries offload,
I feel so free
Rid of agony
On a joyous road!

The cursor curses the wait

thru the blinks it sniffs
something is amiss

it can't though surmise the cause
of the pause
but guesses the abyss

elusive shapes and shadows
a void that grows
the lost surge

the jumble in the head
the missing thread
the moribund urge.

There's so much to right
and nothing to write.