Copycat

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In this world of tit for tat

I am not a copy cat

If you hit me, do I hit back?

Ah no, for this I have no knack.

You press the anger button

Do I become angry?

Ah no, try me.
I am not a machine but a human

To negatives I don’t give entry.

I am good and light this way

I shoo all the disease-germs away

If you want you may also try that

For love of life we can be our copy cat.

Thoughts in the greenroom

One could sense the heat
in your eyes, on your face
though you leave a mild trace
perhaps your victory is in your defeat?

Then why do the thoughts
travel in silence, for ages
freeze in your minds,
mountains and icebergs
never come out
not even as mud, rivulets
on the waiting page;
who has fastened your mouth
covered your visage
what fear do you have
feelings bickering inside
burning in the kitchens
failing on beds,
bruised in the open market place
a mound in the womb
inside, never to see light?

The relegated volumes
could turn them
into a new chapter
if you unearthed some
from your cemented souls
sky could fall in your garden
looking for the shining stars
if the saplings came out from your greenroom
appeared on the stage.

Your not wanting to speak
rains in teardrops
inundating every home of the world,
still homes
you efface your own letters
before they could
form into words,
what could keep the thoughts
so long in prison.
The tired stretch of silence
tied for years
seems to loosen
appears to screech
tends to break apart
constantly simmers.

Your world

Minerve chassant les vices du jardin, painting by Boticelli - Google images

I have never felt so cheap

when you changed your pic

following my compliment

but hey it's your world

your thinking, your perception

your belief-system,

your reputation, your name

I have nothing to do with them.

I have never felt so disrespected

when you were hurt

by words that came from a pumping heart

when you were using suicide bombers

in the lines of your attractive texts

but hey it's your world

you know how you can tame

I have nothing to do with them.

I have never felt so unlike you

when you had the dagger of words

masked with kindness

pouring ego-bloods of shylock and pozzo

I wish I could let your ego

go, from your accolades and fame

I have nothing to do with them.

But hey it's your world

the knowledge you treasured

to write your lines

white lies

because in your world they sell

like madona's touch, gold as hell

why wouldn't I let them be

you also have the right to not be lke me

it's your world

your words

your stage, your game

I have but little to do with them.

But if ever you came

into my peaceful world

would welcome you

with open arms

to my charming golden garden

green with singing birds.

Bani’s children’s coping mechanism

Google images

There you see Kali

limping in public hee hee

this way she earns money

and gives it to Bani

and there is your bamboo,

we call him so he’s lambu

he sings all day with his broken voice

people look at his plucked eyes

he gets sympathy notes and coins

for the noise he makes in his lines;

but there, there can you see?

Pinky, Rashid and Rani

with severed legs they sing and dance

Bani is happy for the money

they get her every day, with their romance

and their jaw-dropping stance

I do everything; cleaning, performing, cooking

collecting dough from the earth

each day we spend laughing and roaming,

we are Bani’s children, right from our re-birth.

We have one whole meal every day

so what if we have severed our parts?

for good we are not here to stay

Bani is our savior, our mother clever and smart.

IN MY HIDDEN MAP

Two soft roads break by the brook I still know,

As a child I’d wonder as to where they’d go;

Stories of the place, about the lines that went,

I could feel even now, their sound and their scent.

Not a public place but I’d call it tavern,

I could hear it speak to me, although taciturn;

I’d imagine anything, pain was also fun,

Flirt with the moon, gold-dig with the sun.

The twin roads are full of flowers,

With precious jewels, rivulets;

Unheard birds and fruits,

Trees breezing leaves, hanging nests.

Every bit of the joint is vivid and clear,

It’s hidden in the map of my mind;

I came running in my form to see it from near,

Outside of me, I could never ever find.


Poem selected for Triveni

Universe understands

Universe

doesn’t understand your verse

kind or unkind,

complicated, meaningful

sublime words.

It understands feelings in those letters lifeless

affectionate, pure, blissful thoughts

chanting inside in the random words

to laugh from within first, then on the page

hug, embrace in the mind then take the pledge;

when words marry the thoughts

the vibration thus born corresponds,

all scribbling on the leaves

with feelings exactly the same

texts that are formed, prose or poem

universe understands,

responds to all of them.

Voicing a dalit*

Get out of here you idiot

Before you think yourself as poet.

You need a whacking praise you duffer

an egotist terrorist, a bluffer

pretence is greasing out of your face

good words hide your jealousy and gracelessness

some letters here and there cleverly put

doesn’t make a poem you intellectual brute.

you suck licking on your words and your lines

You pelt your judgement stone at others

from your glasshouse you traitor

A delinquent gatecrasher, a rascal you are

​​​​​​​I know your vice!!!!

Just get out of here you brainy prophet

Before you dare to call yourself a poet.

Dalit* (in the traditional Indian caste system) a member of the lowest caste. wikipedia

The unstoppable

Google images

Child

serving tea at the beach
takes the empty cups
from visitors, tourists.

Then
an angelic smile
diviner than divine
runs behind a spider
there, there, there
ouf…noh…it goes into its hole.
the child smiles
a very wise one now
knows it can never catch
but unrestrained fun is being on the run,
thinks of home, the village
from where, the little worker was brought
as a visitor, then, maybe bought
preordained folklore
unpreventable onslaught.

Like a fragile foggy web
for a split second
faces flash, aunt, pa, bro,
kittens, birds, pups all hungry
for food, water and perhaps milk
she touches her teats
disobediently blooming
hee hee she smiles
suddenly she sees the stony eyeballs
of her mom, livid and concerned
she hides them
from eyes, eyes, eyes
looks at the holes, stops.

One spider pops
oops, goes back again
to its sandy inland,
the child, to the shop
washes the cups
to serve afresh
and smile on the way
playing again
with spiders.

Thoughts

Google images

Thoughts

You say you are kind

I see you don’t see you’re blind

a quiet mask clouds your redoubled world

you hide in beautiful words

of budhha, christ and what not

but you are tied in the lexical knot

accept first you are also cruel

you are unkind, can be hurtful as hell

make kindness your fuel

not to extinguish

in the words you cleverly use

or finish in the work you do

but in the thoughts you think

your pure mind for sure in the eyes will blink

you will see the humbling affectionate light

unending supply in the body, suddenly light

relax, you may not have to say anything

rest at ease, do nothing

but kindness will show,

you don’t have to preach, underline, highlight

A friend in need

Google images

Dark moist night thunders

Lady returns home alone

Lightening befriends her