Four Decades And A Poem

by Lencio Rodrigues

Sipping my tea,

  The third one in less then two hours,

  an orange rind instead of lime.

  My quiet office and a solitary ant,

  crawling parallel

  to Van Gogh’s sunflowers,

  in its world,

  the whole big beige wall.

  Then I guess, it changes its mind,

  changes its direction,

  and disappears behind my computer.

  Twenty or so minutes later,

  the service boy comes for clearance,

  Series of events of past half hour, forgotten,

  but there,

  reminding of his existence,

  sitting on the rim is our little friend,

  sipping tea from my empty cup.

  Discovering

  Many times before, in those beautiful youthful years,

  discovering stranger places and whiling away,

  came an absolute time to settle down.

  Swept by provoking winds of fate and time,

  my restless soul, powerlessly tossed away.

  I meekly ask myself,

  What I learnt all these years,

  that even little strength of mine,

  couldn’t withstand these trivial winds?

  I knew I would get no answers,

  for when I had the time, all I could see

  was the sunny side and laughter…

  the opaque surface that kept me in a reverie.

  Walking ahead, I stumbled on the darker side

  and,

  I stumbled on…

  Love

  Straight lines of perception crisscrossed

  in my mind’s eye and I could see visions:

  Flames of discernment and vivacity.

  Stepping onto it, I learnt that life

  isn’t one constant chapter.

  My life began to see new horizons,

  and I began to reclaim the strength that I thought

  was lost or missing.

  Crystal

  Standing on a marble floor,

  with crystal in my hands.

  This crystal…

  My friends.

  I fear the sound of its crashing,

  I fear it crashing,

  the shattered bits,

  the pain they will cause,

  and the cramp of the loss.

  With crystal in my hands,

  I watch,

  the intensity of the sparkle,

  accepting the uneven finish,

  here and there.

  For the sparkle,

  dazzles the flawed sides,

  making the crystal seem perfect.

  This crystal, my friends.

  Children Come, Children Go

  Leaving a disquieting house, I take the elevator,

  stepping onto an upsetting street I find a cluster -

  Toddlers, waiting for their first day’s school bus,

  timid, first timers and the over conscious.

  Most, cheerful; a couple, grumpy,

  but a sight that makes me extremely happy.

  Morning pavements dotted with anxious faces,

  seeing them laugh and play, my pain erases.

  Innocence and ignorance, starting their life

  in a world filled with competition and strife,

  but such a future is yet to come

  now they’re merrily beating my aching drum.

  Cheerful little children come and they grow,

  I feed on the seeds very morning they sow.

  A cry, a laughter, a tantrum, whatever maybe,

  make my worries melt, make me take it easy.

  Children come and children go,

  bringing a smile and making happiness flow…

  The Reflection

  I see myself, a reflection

  of older souls,

  I see them walking, three legs,

  wrinkles, grey hair,

  their wavering speech in strong words

  I see images of them

  reflecting in myself,

  their beauty in smooth skin.

  Inversely,

  I see me, in their image,

  the frailty,

  body and mind,

  my neglect and inattention,

  or the love of my very own.

  I see how beautiful or sad

  their youth has been

  I see their strength,

  their power to withstand,

  and all that they cannot, now.

  I see myself and use the strength

  God has given me, now.

  Forget the Umbrella

  Step out quick, honey, we ain’t going that far

  the carburetor will be wet if we take the car

  You’d love out there; it’s so much fun in the rain

  Don’t be a spoilt sport, worrying in vain.

  We’ll be late for your shopping if you delay more

  and it may soon start pouring like never before,

  we could reach the mall after the shutters are down

  then baby, please don’t look at me with a frown.

  Pitter patter, the raindrops feel so exciting

  look at your dripping face, you look so tempting!

  very soon I expect the heaviest of the shower

  ain’t it good for us darling that these clouds hover!?

  If only you hadn’t wasted time on the closet

  all would be smooth, now I’ve forgotten my wallet!

  let’s forget the shopping and enjoy the aura

  it’s so sexier when rain soaked, forget the umbrella!

  ***

  the drone and his bee

  under the tamarind tree

  wind drops confetti

  ***

  Empty

  Has it been possible to think of human life as wood?

  Lifeless, with no emotion or sensitivity?

  Day by day I call myself a human,

  and I do not know how?

  I can smell the wounds of the abandoned dying

  in the freshness of spring and see their tears

  in my best friends eyes,

  I can see their empty bowls

  in the spoonful of food

  that goes into my mouth,

  and smell its staleness as I sip

  the coffee to freshen me up.

  and Lord, I know not how to reach them.

  I see their sadness in all the goodness

  around me,

  and around me,

  I find no stretching, longing hands,

  I step out and find a man asking for money,

  He’s the wrong one,

  Goes into a bar and has a good time.

  I step a little further,

  and find a woman crouched by the wall

  and she doesn’t need my pennies,

  alms or mercy.

  I step back, and behind me,

  I see a man searching for morsels

  in the garbage,

  but sadly I didn’t find him,

  And as I try to reach him,

  I find myself empty,

  Empty of love, empty of mercy,

  Empty of alms and money.

  The Friday Mapusa Market

  The sardine-packed bus enters the depot

  men hanging out, jump as it comes to a halt.

  Jostling their way with a holler and elbow

  those lazing around become victims of assault.
/>   Progress opens a new path, with a gate like Jerusalem

  Jazzy Rajasthanis selling trinkets at the entrance,

  welcomed by litter, open like a body for post mortem

  The Mayor as usual up to his dodging dance!

  Market day, Friday you find produce, fresh and pure

  with thousands of people bargaining but not buying

  bumping into ten people you know, that’s for sure,

  not because the market is small, everybody goes there, shopping.

  Shopping for home-made sausages, salted shark,

  home-grown rice, chilies, onions, fowls and fruits,

  pickles, jams and things bearing no trademark

  and elaborate things woven from coir and jute.

  You need some alibi, like a broken pot of clay

  to drag you to the Mapusa market next Friday

  Call it a habit, a custom of an ageless time

  You’d naturally be driven without reason or rhyme.

  ~*~

  stars kick the moon

  to their goal and play ‘til sunrise

  ~ floodlit soccer

  ~*~

  Toy Train (Rictameter)

  The train

  Rattles on rails

  Frail like children in it,

  Screaming as their joy rides faster.

  These little brains ready to roll the world

  With speed, sureness and precision

  Careful and anxious than

  speeding wheels of

  The train.

  Halfway Home

  06:00 p.m.

  Looking out of my balcony,

  I see people and cars,

  all halfway home.

  I see their journeys

  the distance they have to travel

  before they get home.

  I say to myself

  “I am home”

  tired after a long weary day

  and content to be here,

  while I watch them

  still on the road, walking, driving.

  Among them are some

  who don’t have to go anywhere,

  for the roadside tree

  or an adjacent park bench

  is their home.

  I return to the room

  and turn on the TV

  I hear some killed in a road accident.

  They aren’t the unfortunate ones

  not to reach home tonight,

  In fact, they have reached their home,

  and we have only, halfway.

  When Night Turns to Day and Vice Versa

  Cometh the night, she grows intently visible,

  Though out of sight, her tresses brush against my ears,

  and

  I lull into a peaceful sleep,

  After the day races and conversations fade,

  She sits on the moon and tells stories in my dreams,

  And sprinkles stars in the sullen skies.

  When the day awakens,

  She becomes my first thought of the day,

  The sunshine that penetrates through morning mist,

  And shades the sparkles of its rays.

  She is the beauty of my feelings,

  The depth of my voice while I sing.

  Cometh the day, she becomes clearly visible,

  And she’s more beautiful than anything else in this world.

  Asylum

  We conquer the world of the immortal

  the supernatural and angels,

  fanatic and lunatics

  inheriting love,

  we’re the imaginary

  practical corpses

  in a dreamscape where words fall

  like amber autumn leaves

  on my anointed soul,

  or on another day,

  ~ sheaves, swaying in that spring breeze

  where phantoms cross inevitable traffic lights

  or quibble over trivia, complaining repeatedly

  in their world of impossibilities…

  Your charm piles up like butane cans

  at a campsite,

  mystical as an archaic Greek goddess

  of aqua eyes

  on flaking portraits falling from livid walls

  and shattering like china…

  Howie Day strums “Collide” in my mind

  I was so close behind…

  the surreal void

  where the moon turns into a flickering lamp..

  and…

  poof.

  bliss hurled like a hammock in the insanity

  of the whirlwind,

  and projectile intrusion of this consciousness.

  Is this sentence false?

  If I’d see the world through an honest liar…

  Devil would be king of creation, sinners, preach at the altar

  Vampires would walk on earth, humans would fly

  With ground above us, we’d walk on sky.

  Convents would be houses of lust and desire

  Monasteries would be halls of doom

  Dust would sweep the broom.

  The coolest of climates would make me perspire

  There’d be tongues of fire pouring as rain

  Everyone would be delighted with migraine!

  Cacophonic men would form a choir!

  The spire would ring the sexton’s bell

  Making his life a living hell.

  More than eagles, butterflies would fly higher

  Bananas would devour the monkeys

  and flowers would swallow the bees.

  Politicians would still be liars!!!

  nothing moral or immoral would change them

  exploiting the poor is not at all a shame!

  The dead would be living to appear

  We would be gods with power and might

  To fight wars, stop crime and make all wrong right,

  If I’d see the world through an honest liar…

  Life’s Simple Code

  W-isdom to know and differentiate the wrong and right

  O-pportunities coming my way to make my future bright

  R-esponsibility as a human and reaching to fellow men

  D-evotion to God and man and things I have been given

  S-trength to live through the day, protect the shaken.

  O-ptimism of a brighter tomorrow and a hope filled day,

  F-riendship that brings love when loving family’s away.

  L-ife granted unto me and life given by those loving me

  I-ntegrity makes me proud, straight in the face I can see

  F-ulfillment of the joys and all the abundance bestowed

  E-ach moment is worth living with a simple life’s code.

  Mysterious Stranger

  There’s a gloom: shining bright,

  sun at its peak

  the street’s bare

  except for an old man

  and an angel standing there.

  The angel,

  burning in the sun,

  Smiling to himself,

  I wonder, what for?

  False pride?

  his lover?

  closing a business deal?

  the wild last night?

  his children?

  the unresponsive taxis?

  his loneliness

  seeking someone to love him,

  feel him?

  I smile with him

  thinking with him

  covering all pain behind him,

&
nbsp; though enormously vain…

  Is he smiling at this dream

  of being an angel

  and give half his strength

  half his beauty and half his age

  to the old man

  walking behind him?

  Blissful Revenge

  Her azure eyes are an immortal spider

  weaving through the night’s street

  singing her pernicious fantasia like a deadly whisper

  searching for her prey on soul ridden fury

  covering every stealth lane with her intent eyes

  hiding behind velveteen lashes.

  She doesn’t need the moon to guide her

  or even aid her euphoric transgression,

  for tonight she’s ready for the kill

  with amber defined fury

  and sail blissfully on the crescent.

  Paralyzed

  The world was beautiful before you came,

  and then I found it all in you, the beauty in everything I saw,

  just in you, all around you, about you,

  in all that you do……

  In the words you speak and the thrill of your laughter,

  the cuteness of your smile, the wrinkles of your frown,

  and the scent of your skin.

  I can walk no further to explore what is left of this world,

  My mind walks nowhere but to you…

  My mind is paralyzed with your thought,

  That, as each day begins I hear no chirping of birds, but your voice,

  I feel no other pain but yours; hear no other laughter but yours.

  I have lost all my senses and yet, I know I can never love this way…

  Doubtful Shadow

  My shadow

  escorts me wherever I go,

  crawling on the fickle ground

  expressing regret

  to the trampled lawn.

  Sometimes,

  I fear he might plot against me

  when he walks ahead of me,

  and ask the gravelly road

  to throw me down.

  I know,

  my shadow wouldn’t hurt me,

  but,

  the thought that

  he just drags behind me,

  makes me doubt his integrity.

  ~*~

  spellbound buds open

  to birds’ morning welcome songs

  wind claps in accord

  ~*~