seven stories in three lines

my ears
heard enough tales
return to the mountains

the ash has fire
a gray-haired man sees
on heaps of burning leaves

useless promises
on barren fields
winds buzzing shame

blank page
looks at the monsoon sky
stories rain

an old pond
a child plops a stone
frog leaps in time

flowers blooming
cajoling the wired borders
spreading friendship out of control

my eyes
seen enough stories
return to the seas

In the company

It was at a party – at night
I watched the stars
drink, dance, dream
their eyes awake
blinking, twinkling, winking
soft music played the wind.

Friends, they could be guests
I must have held some hands
stars hung beside the moon
the sky became the room
I was a little high.

Woke up late drowsy
still in trance on the floor
remembered how I danced
I stole myself out
with shoes in my hand
stories in my mind.

Thinking of birds asleep in their nests
I yearned for life!
Drove back home with the moonlight.

some small poems

trees

from the desktop

witness deforestation

***

sunshine

on the canvas

in the child’s smiles

***

waves crying on the beach

rain

in the child’s eyes
***

dust-bath of sparrows

bird-bath

waits for monsoon

***

food-wastes

drain the tongue

of a weeping urchin
***

Gears

Eyes and ears are drivers of a kind

hands that compose through light and sound
as organs they nest inside the mind
to chirp the tale of what is around.

Dead-and-alive

Verses on pages fall beyond rehearse
as reserves in thoughts progress, reverse
lines lie dead like writers’ hearse,
revealed and alive by healing readers.

Retelling

Lines do not come from me
they do, through me, says Rumi*.

Yes I know we steal the tune
in every day and night to prune
with or without the witness of the stars
rises and falls, lies in our hearts
comes out as words, humming breeze
in seconds, as thousand memories
touch the leaves or the flute
as fruits flowing deep, from the roots.

Verses that give us a hand
mimicking the message of the Band.


Rumi* - A famous poet who needs little introduction

Pen to paper

Floating in the mind are stories to pen
emotions of unnoticed ladies and gentlemen
meandering, looking out for leaves
embrace them all, without motives, malice.

Their skin, kith and kin, to matter least
patient pages like earth, to drink the ink at ease
no questions asked, no judgements passed
fables of colorful days, simply present from the past.

Once written off, where will the yarns lead
in the lifeless shelves or in the lively read
whatever be their fate, wherever they are to reign
papers will devour tales, of ladies and gentlemen.

Take an apple break

My cell has become my cell
but worse is desktop, I can tell
I have ceased to breathe free
to be under a winsome tree
in garden of flowers and fruits
to retrieve my fading roots.

Nature I see on screen
but the one that’s out serene
I ignore to see and smell
this weakens every cell
I run tad out of breath
waste my time at length.

The techs are not so bad
they often make us glad
they were bought to ease our life
but we’re seized and trapped in file
they came to us for sure
so we’d work a little less
but we slog now even more
and find us all in stress.

O my loving mind
be a little kind
drive us from this mess
tell us how to find
a balance and be friends
with all these helpful techs.

In your garden

Wherever you go
in the darkest or brightest
of places you may not even know
you are with me, under my behest

when you cease to escape and submit
in your space, miracle becomes a habit

whatever you do
in the absence or presence
of others around you
with you I bond in every sense

when you cease to escape and submit
in your space, miracle becomes a habit

whatever you think or speak
with you or with others anywhere
I build the words pronounced or bleak
with you, I’m always there

when you cease to escape and submit
in your space, miracle becomes a habit

from your birth to your death
I’m with you in every single breath
once you know this for certain
bliss will reside in your garden.

Take care

Accept the child
born from marriage
of two hearts
it needs your love and concern
take care, be it a daughter or a son
it comes to unite two families
through its relation, into one
into your new roles
you are reborn with its birth
it is the child of this earth.

Accept the child
born from rape or other human disgrace
of two unfortunate hearts
it needs your love and concern
take care, be it a daughter or a son
it comes to write its own story
feel blessed if it chooses you as parents
into your gifted new roles
you are reborn with its birth
it is the child of this earth.