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The energy of red and happiness of yellow combined
Light orange spilled on the pale blue sky

Tender green leaves, on brown twigs
Pretty fingers of a danseuse, striking a pose

Magnificent hotel Taj Mahal Palace
Ever so resplendent
Stands tall

Life passes by
A moment captured on lens
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2016
my Mumbai woman


to my Indian poets & friends
all be advised,

my piety, my muse,
has decamped me for weeks on end
to your
yon far and fair lands

the red dot beside her
electronic signature
a sign of her absence,
seemingly to have been
magically transferred
to her forehead

so perhaps my love poetry
will become absent, reticent,

or perhaps

it will build brighter, effervescing
in my very own Taj Mahal,
an edifice built by great love past
and yet ever still present,
for I testify,
I have many times it,
seen imbued,
lovingly observed
between a certain
men and women here writ large,
who there permanent reside,
and in my heart as well

spend a minute many,
all my fingers and
toes employed
how many, so many,
Indian fellow travelers
on poetry lanes and yellow dust encrusted roads,
in cities unpronounceable
that this illiterate literary fool
has come to know and multi-arm entwine

to you,

I commend and command to you
her safety,
asking immodestly for
an imposition, an interference

pray to the local gods,
your heads of state and highest nature's,
that they be her
her unobserved
as she treks your country's
Northern pastures

let her skin glow from
your brighter rays,
eyes even wider~wiser opened
by the newness of your antiquity,
your glorious,
poetic place
in our world
of words
ranveer joshua Oct 2019
piano jazz on the record player
powder blue walls
regal and pristine

the ocean breeze floats through the rickety window
fishing boats swaying with the waves

the shortbread cookie crumbles
the aroma of my warm beverage
makes this room come alive
Cool monsoon breeze sway the trees
Cascading rills , meadows
The Valley and Scenic hills
Colour green rich in hue
Breathtaking the view

The rain pours and rushes down
On the windscreen and sunroof
A sweet melodic sound it makes
Like an Artist, paints in gentle slopes

Dark clouds in daytime , stark
Makes the Sun shiver in cold
The bridge ahead ,century old
Winding road  and steep slopes

Passing through the illuminated tunnels
Old melodies played on the radio
The journey ahead ,we steer
The ebullient nature brings cheer
Lonavala is a scenic hill  station on the
Mumbai- Pune Expressway .
17th August experience on the way to Mumbai .
It was beautiful, had to put in words :)
Sameer Omles Jul 2018
I've seen rivers that speaks,
Oceans that remain in silence,
Stars that hates you and
the rain .....
who gets angry to drown Mumbai

Sankalp Dharge Jan 2018
It was nightfall whilst I commenced
Howard and Sufjan resonated my head
Heart was thumping against my chest
Slightest of drizzle varied my eye
Psyche was sketching days to the fore.

Plunged dead to the world midnight
Came vigorous next to the first light
I felt the caring wind filled with bliss
Resembling a mother’s kiss
The western sky sparkled surpassing dawn.

I was drunk on the beauty of this world
The sea still, tranquil and cavernous
Ignoring the horror, it formerly heard
Shortly I glided forward and beyond

Draining my past behind...
I wrote this while travelling in Mumbai.
It was an amazing tour. This city never sleeps.
I feel nostalgic.
As waves wrestle playfully,
I revel like a nonchalant dreamer near the shores,
watching the sun disappear,
while the sounds of sea,
calm its disappearance

I waited all night,
to see the golden coronation
of the bluish waters,
as the horizons brightened up
in the morning

a thousand faces,
a million visions,
now stay within me,

meanwhile the city of dreams,
sleeps somewhere.
Ashwin Kumar Sep 2017
Direction can bamboozle me
An autist mind thinks different
As if in a maze, so divergent
Can his thoughts be
Getting lost so often
Every new place seems alien
Looking to trap you
Till you lose yourself
From asking for directions
To seeing shakes of heads
Losing hope due to inaction
Not getting any leads
Especially when it's south Mumbai
I hop on to a bus
As it goes on and on, I cuss
Wishing I were back in Chennai
Predictably I get down at the wrong stop
Greeted by a run-down lane
I was early, now late
My panic rises to the top
As taxi-wallahs say no
Even as I give various landmarks
I wonder where shall I go
I am clearly in the dark
I see a gentleman in a car
Probably my last hope
I plead for help
Thus apparently lowering my bar
The gentleman offers a drop
Which I gladly accept
A big relief in this heat
As the ride comes to a stop
He says we will meet later
Since he stays in my locality
In him I saw a lot of humanity
As my day suddenly got better
I had got the inspiration
For writing my next poem
In such an interesting fashion
This is about my recent struggles in south Mumbai, especially around Churchgate - Colaba.
Its bright and sunny

Not same
The last 3 days .
A relative , passing away
Never whom I met
A pall of gloom, yet .

Husband would be back from tour

A day before
Stuck  he was in the heavy downpour
And flooded Mumbai roads .
My heart sank,
Reminded of the deluge
Year 2005, July 26th
Stuck he was in a similar situation
Residents of Mumbai, then we were.

A Day before
He had a long day ahead
Asked  the driver to leave
Only to return by evening .

The driver with no return route
The hotel a few Kms away
Not a single Ola Uber
Around the corner
Added  to the bother.

A good 40 minutes walk
In waist high water
Followed by a bus ride
Hotel ,he managed to reach .
And hopefully ,
The Mumbaikars to their homes
Who waded along
Helping each other in the murky waters.

Not to be missed
Come Rains or Terrorists
Mumbaikars with help , do outreach.
Had been feeling low in the last few days partly due to the weather and happenings,
and did not write much.
Things are fine today and so a quick write , inspired again by my favourite
Place , and so the title , ' The Spirit Of Mumbai'.
In spite of adversities the people there are never let down.
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