In between light and sound

Crazy ears and eyes,

Busy to criticize.

Powerful machines and guns

Killing distressed organs

Blinding light and sound

Deafening all around

Stealing ambrosial sense

From the drums and the lens

The power to hear and see

In present clarity.

But there’s music in the air

Hanging everywhere,

Easy ears and eyes

In tune might apprise.

Precious

No, I cannot afford to wait.

My coffee’s getting cold. I’m late.

That I can re-heat

The drink, my steps forget

I have cold feet.

I come from my morning walk

Reach out for the cup.

The trained talk

Takes me away, anxieties go up

With every single sip.

My mind missed the chirping of the birds

It reminds me of the dewdrops

I had to skip.

I wasn’t with the sunrise, overlooked the trees

Didn’t feel the grass, wasn’t present with the breeze

Life is here with me walking as my mate

With worries onerous,

This life precious, 
I cannot afford to waste.

Journey

Waves! Waves! Waves!

I have these waves inside me,

Old salty icy thoughts

Like tired bricks and clocks

All clean and washed,

Clearing severe ways

Rushed back to the sea.

Rays! Rays! Rays!

They’re running into me,

From the moon and the sun

Unseen, strange, unsung

Falling in my space

In unheard ecstasy.

With the solid froths gone

Felt a little bit alone,

Wondered what will I do

This image seemed untrue.

Standing in the beam,

Now a revealing company

A constant flowing stream

The image cracked and changed

I’m fully charged, engaged

For my truest new journey.

dichotomy

reflection is scared of light...

if the pencil dies, it will expire with it

if the stream bides, the specter will lose the credit

it is tense

for as long as it stays

for the crown of the knight

Partner

Death has come at last.

I am on my bed

going back and back

turning the pages, trying to search

for the space where feelings fell

in place, where time stopped,

but I was slipping on the surface

when I thought fearfully of death.

I looked out of the window

nothing has stopped, nothing changed

save the body that held me so long,

and brought me finally to my friend.

I am meeting my lover

shy, hesitant as ever,

no I welcome you

though I know

I will never be done

I was always looking for you,

in the meaning of life I was missing you too.

Hi there

From the mountain top

you were showing us your tricks.

The world is tied with a wire

from one end to the distant other,

connected with ease, without bricks.

Your vision is high, your mission and goals

foolproof with gumption, without loopholes,

technically the world is a global village

hearts in us are still heavy in the cage.

From the cliff you have forgotten to climb down

you need a hand to keep your feet on the ground.

Monopoly

Ten million ways ― you

lead the dazzling fate.

Engaging the glamorous

feeling overshadowing

failing white policies.

What matters most,

is the fun, along the sun.

Moon has no place.

But you have this craze

that you will say and you will stay.

You have managed to scare

the world, which is chasing the eagle

because you told in your convincing speech

that the bird has fled with its eyes

poor world cannot see it can see

it fails a myriad times, it tries.

It is chasing with a rod you sold as a wand

ten thousand wails with yelling hands.

I am waiting behind a tree, beside the bank

of a crying river bleeding for some silver touch.

The malady

A tonsured garden, a deforested place;

in the desert, an oasis still tolerates the sun

heat is reining in every life,

there is no space for anything other than sunshine.

Such kindness of light that burns the impulse

of every kind is the cruelest thing that needs to be deserted.

But every being there has forgotten the art of leaving

it is looked upon as deceitful…

fearful of criticism, the remaining ones are condemned to stay

to be charred to death with the burden of white-hot values,

it is staging onlookers as actors

killing the garden’s character in every minute of the day

that promises no evenings, no nights.

The moon has left the place for good,

there is no room for darkness.

The generosity of the sizzling sun is slowly spreading

its wings all over…golden numbness for sure

has ruined the balance of the Silver Star, beyond cure.

Melting moments

When the child beside her mom

was licking a vanilla ice-cream,

I didn't know where it came from

but I found my poem and my theme.

The eyes were closed and the tongue, busy

drops of dots fell off careless and easy.

I thought of my past that dropped from my time

to let it just go, I thought was a crime.

The child finished the stick with a smile on the face,

the two went away with the happiest embrace.

I was worried for reasons I never came to know

but the things that I loved I’d never let them go.

When I have those goodies, I am never inside it

I pay for the food never enjoy what I eat.

The child taught me now to relish every stand

I’m feeling light this time, with an ice-cream in my hand.

The lines

Lines of silver light

falling from the moon

as poems,

piercing the darkness

of the world.

Words are diving

into the non-static fall,

every word is joining

the dancing light,

rods are becoming sharper

than the cones

eardrums are merging

with the calming tune,

sound has gone silent.

Bouncy eyes can behold the writer,

enterprising ears can hear

the painting on the dark pages,

humming through the nebulous stages

of the world.

Futile,

futile is the effort to capture

the blurred unity of 

the effervescent lines

bound to re-appear

cleaving straight through the hollowness

of the world.