A girl on the train with witch's hair and dark eyes
Stared at me as if I was hiding a secret in the curve of my lip
Or the space between my eyebrows
Or in whirlpool-pupils
I wonder if there is something of the occult in the way I walk
Like a dead woman who adores the crows that pick at her bone marrow
Is there something in the hollows of my eyes that suggests
I am not afraid of the demons summoned to hunt me down
On my morning commute?

This girl was staring at me really weirdly on my way to work the other day. (This is a recent poem) she had witchy kind of hair and as soon as I found myself thinking that I knew I'd write a poem about her. Enjoy.
Ashwin Kumar Jul 25

All days may not start well
Things may not go to plan
Punctuality monsoon will tell
Start as early as you can
But not always in our hands
Things at the mercy of rain
Is there any place to stand?
In a Mumbai fast local train?
More so when it is late
Leaving you at the hands of fate
Men push, jostle and bicker
Place to stand is a premium
At your expense, they snicker
For a while, it’s pandemonium
To and fro, back and forth
Swung for all your worth
Then the train stops when it shouldn’t
Getting further late when it shouldn’t
When time comes to alight
You are expected to defy gravity
Jumping a moving train with no clarity
Changing over at Dadar is no delight
Later greeted by grime and muck
Rain at Lower Parel adds to bad luck
Noisy motorists on a narrow street
Make your mind admit defeat
Reaching office is a relief
Your sweat beggars belief
Just the start of a long day ahead
A miracle not to lose your head

A poem about the vagaries of commuting in Mumbai local trains during the monsoon

So, I'll lie awake on this rocky beach
With my head full of sand and bad memories
You told me you felt safe in the arms of evergreen
And I said I'd never go away until this spark became too much to bear

Now the mountain came to us but we couldn't climb
Because, because our perspective was at odds with the even keel of this sinking ship
And oh I couldn't hear one more word about that anchor called forgiveness
Because, because forgiveness is just the gateway to forgetting and I won't forget

No, I won't forget you
Even when the world crashes down around my ears
Oh, heaven is coming down here
I know the angels sing their perfect songs but if they,
If they aren't singing of you I don't care to hear

But I hear, I hear angels cursing loud like
Like trains in the still night
Blowing decibels like churches
Towering tight against my eyes
They sound like
Screeching eagles clawing at the track
But they refuse to see that there's no going back

Because we said we'd never be this way
A silent promise in the deafness of anger
Said we'd never be this way
But I kept my fingers crossed
Like, like, perpendicular lines still hot from the friction of use
I'm burnt all down my insides
Because, because I know there's nothing in this world that can keep me from you

Even death concedes that I just won't turn blue
She watches me wait for you
In a forest made of ash
Whispers sweet nothings about the comfort of the black

But I refuse, I refuse to give in
And I won't forget to forgive myself
You always told me that comes first
The world is easier to live with if I can learn to live with myself
But I can't keep living this life without your help

So I'll wait by the ocean where salt water rises to tug at my feet
You'll be nowhere and right here because I just can't let it go
There's fear in the moon, that crazy old man is looking for us
I never knew what for
Pushing and pulling the sea until we can't swim anymore

And the waves will pull me under
To the depths where I'll await your forgiveness
When I'm deeper than the darkest indigo
Oh, I'll be passing through Atlantis
And I'll tell those sunken people of you and your eyes like a sunrise without an ending
These words they won't comprehend

And they'll never forget my tales of you
Long after I have passed
And their stars aren't the same as ours
Just lights passing in the distance
But they'll name them all after you
And your forgiveness

Oh, please forgive them
Bring them back to light
Give them my sunset
And hold me to the end of the line

Where the rocks aren't so sharp
And the ocean ain't so deep
The train is coming fast
And I can finally sleep

...the old classic "I'm forever trying to keep ahead of that freight train--"



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXIV)


Lo, peach-kissed fluffy white clouds sailing thence
In bluest seas oer greener Maples frail
Winds softly ply to soto voce's scale
Of whispers on a Friday evning's calmer sense,
And I'm too zonkered to but note from hence
What nudges memries long since past t'avail,
As if Mum still was waiting in betrayl
To talk and laugh while sunset yawns oer whence.
Now but's an hour 'til midnight, hark! in poor
'Scuse an explosion rocks the silence, to
Lapse into nothing.  Is't July astir
Upon suggestion?  O, what matters?  Do
We feel the changes tugging, what's as twere
To do?  Perhaps Joe shan't call.  Say I knew.  

30Jun17c

No, this was NOT the time to sign up for basketweaving classes, deary.  *promptly laughs too much*

A limerick is laid link by link.
It falls like a chain down a sink.
   It goes down the drain
   Like a free-falling train,
And lands with a twist and a kink.

#

alan May 28

Aeroplanes fly above the land,
we ride below them in a trolley.
Metal, rubber, and oil is grand,
but walking is just folly.

See my spiral for how she rendered it  



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCXXXVI)


Ya.  Lean upon the porch rail as night's dense
Black--does it twinkle with ah, stars? nor hail
The mirk none pass through, just my brother.  Pale
As Au Revoir where all else sleep from hence,
Lo, how--what ist?  Hark!  For the train calls thence,
Its whistle breaking this cold silence' tale,
And think now, of how I'll lose all ist? frail
Against the metal lacework, sans defense.
Turn back indoors to clean the mess we'd stir
In babysitting.  Wooden tracks a crew
Of Brio traincars clattered oer in tour
Half like what deeply rumbles past, aye to
A fault, my brother saying "a real train--" Were
I numb too long oer Mum?  Or swear I knew?

01Apr17b

As it was, she's almost 4 so I thought that question of her dad too odd, but whatever, mebbe Tia understands after all.

heard the trains in the distance
whistling your name for 20 years
but you never understood their language,
it wasn’t meant for your ears.

you were so comfortable
sitting in your bed,
watching tv,
wishing you were dead,
you didn’t think twice about where the trains went.

Here I am, off on a trip,
Do I travel on an new airship?
Or do a take a train, not so hip?
Or do I drive my vintage car?
Or is this trip too far?
No, like Icarus the star,
I'll grow wings, better than the car,
So, no automobiles, planes or trains,
No bus, but my wings, that's plain!

Feedback welcome.

Stepping with strides that will soon
fade like passing tumbleweeds and
trains long passed,
is the person unknown who travels
yonder their familiar blanket of sky.
Searching for what you'd assume
are answers to unresolved
questions, they find confidence
in treading uncertain new grounds;
gaining reasons to love and love stronger.
Ever the rolling stone shuffling to
avoid a life that goes south, so that
an end is met with fulfilment when
body and soul head upwards and north,
long after the telling of the last
adventure.

I, the person you have yet to meet.
Who roams for to settle one day in
richer surroundings;
knows such innate yearnings of the
heart and mind that others have
not the ties to satisfy.

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