in such a brief moment?
God,
if you were not her
then who that might have been?
Amateur
Flipping through his personal album,
now taken new ownership,
she lets a tear fall
wondering about all
those prompt photographers
capturing last moments
of her son.
Oh! there were precious moments of her,
in amusing poses…
- practice sessions they’d call it!
She smiles, wiping a tear
as she turns his seasons,
and flips his flamingoes in flight,
savours fruits that adorned
the pages of nature,
and feels the warmth from his
sunrise glow…
Then the pages
just seem to stop from turning…
“That’s his life,
he always wanted to be a photographer” she says,
turning the last page…
empty.
Mint and Honey
hi! I have this voucher you gave me last time,
“Sorry Sir, it’s valid only on week days”
Oh okay, never mind, get me two Chai Latte…
My friend seems impressed at my flair,
while he digs into my memory of how it all began…
Endless evenings,
My girl and I, sitting at various cafes,
tasting love’s recipes…
I recollect the days,
these wide-eyed waitresses never refused me a thing,
their cordiality never let me down,
everything was in stock.
Heartbroken and lonely, I pass the cafés much too often,
My mind stopping in front of them
like a lost soul in front of a church, while my feet keep the pace.
Perhaps, like my life, everyone, shuffled at the cafés,
and no one knows me here anymore.
The waitress walks up to me, I know there’s something wrong
from the expression on her face,
“Sorry Sir, we don’t have…”
Okay, can I have a Café con miel?
What about you? I ask my friend, who seems unpleasant
and doesn’t prefer coffee, or to answer.
So I order a green tea with mint instead.
Everything seems mixed up,
I think the mint and honey
could help us relax a bit…
One Christmas at Farmville! (Zynga)
Tried to make it home for Christmas
but alas! somehow I am here,
No more singing “I’ll be home for Christmas”
now until Christmas next year!
They say they have good offers at Farmville,
special holiday stuff you can send
for friends and neighbors to fill
their holiday tree or even vend!
I harvest poinsettia and brush the reindeers
while listening to “Christmas in Killarney”
and other old yuletide carols saying cheers
adopting a clumsy reindeer, calf or a turkey!
Anxious to know what’s waiting in those gifts,
I place soldiers, gnomes and fences of holly,
Evergreen trees and snowman to uplift the spirits
and make my Christmas jolly!
So, I’ll harvest poinsettia and brush reindeers
and send free gifts in plenty!
plowing, sowing and harvesting, drinking beers
farming at Christmastime ain’t a pity!
Unstitched Wear
Designs traced, up-to-the-minute,
revealing creativity, soon you’re in it,
then in an instant, you’re out of fashion.
Striving to look like those on the cover
and inside of the magazine,
beauty fading from within,
You try your optimal to come down
to medium or small from XXL,
to beat those on Esquire or Elle,
until you are no more, yourself.
No matter what we wear,
our best apparel is the smile we bear
making us beautiful inside and outside.
Sketches and Splashes
He gazes into her focused eyes,
and she into his edgy face,
Crayons to paper,
Anticipating…
He’s waited for this day
when he first saw her at the village fair…
Watching customers bargain
her work of art,
Patience is sketched all over his face
as she draws the lines
of his transforming expression.
He can’t wait…
His library has portraits
from popular artists,
but his excuse to be scribbled
by her skillful hands
has finally found a way to her heart,
as he shifts his mind
to her shattered soul,
and watches his daughter
in her eyes…
After she is done
and hands over his portrait,
he pays the price
of countless paintings
he destroyed
the day he splashed beer
due to his recklessness.
“Here’s an advance,
I shall be back tomorrow…”
Brainless in Transit!
What can a man, killing time at the airport Transit Lounge think of?
To me it’s a mere prison cell
with liberty to walk just a few more paces than prisoners.
Uniformed airport officials walk superliciously
with passenger lists and walkie talkies.
Cool babes make friends with each other even though they’re flying different destinations, parading as if on a catwalk ramp, heading mostly t’wards the restrooms…
Group of laborers walk in,
being led like a herd of sheep to “some” green pasture for ridiculous wages, languages of sorts rattle amidst excitement and tension.
The sweeper’s job could have been given to a healthier, younger, woman (I am not biased)
but they gave it to an older, lame woman
who finds it difficult, extremely difficult in fact,
that a couple of times she slipped and fell.
But she must do the job - After all she’s holding the prestigious Government position. I feel, the wheelchair relaxing in the corner, could well serve this woman.
Our beauties have returned, one of them is real pretty -
mini skirt and a magnificent top
that says “who needs brains when you have these?”
I bet you don’t!
I can’t help but gaze at her and those!!!.
She too glances in my direction and smiles…
“All passengers traveling on SQ 421
please proceed….”
I am left alone, with nothing much of interest…
Brainless, like the government policies.
Mother’s Visit
For the first time I had the chance to invite my mother.
Unlike all those years
I have been going down to see my parents,
I do not know if she enjoyed all the sights
of this hot concrete jungle, the sky-high blocks,
and dazzling elite malls
where she’s been too scared of the escalator.
I am not sure how much she has enjoyed
the multi-cuisine of this cosmopolitan clutter,
or the hybrid flowers along the roads that impressed her for a moment,
although her garden has better varieties of Dahlias
marigolds, begonias, hydrangeas and more,
that need more care than this drip-irrigated flora.
I do not know if she freaked out with all the parties
and the fine wines and restaurants
that played her favorite songs.
But this I am certain
that she cherished every moment of her visit
to feel and see me, not being out of her reach,
out of her sight.
The fulfillment, the satisfaction
of her being closer to me.
I could feel it
in the closest, warmest and the longest hug
of the goodbye session,
and the broken voice she said
“take care”
Until then…
Daydreams reach out to touch you,
I close my eyes to forget my yearning
and breathe…
but I can smell the scent of your skin
coming from the shadows before my eyes.
Your face made of a smile,
and eyes of passion
and beneath and below those eyes
a love to feel in all its splendor.
What can a heart speak of
when senses are numbed by distance?
I long to hold you
and kiss you long enough till
the sun rises and sets a thousand times
and make love like we’ll never see each other again.
Until then,
daydreams reach out to touch you…
The Top Floor
Stairs spiral still, but the floor is silent
children of tenants run a racket
after you decided it’s sore to stay here.
I’ve occupied the room we kept locked, always…
Telephones ask me if I am okay,
concerns creep from family and friends
nibbling on biscuits and fast food
and availing things I can get for free.
If it was money, I wouldn’t rent the floor so cheap
if I wanted company, I’d keep lovers without kids
and if it were kids, I wouldn’t be complaining
about them running a racket…
I postpone dusting or buying furniture
even though home centers sales have come and gone
no one goes up the staircase except tenants
who don’t even pay their rent on time.
Time Changes Everything
(For Margaret Fernandez, an Octogenarian who regularly checks emails and learns her music from the computer.)
Oh Margaret, tell me! Tell me about your maiden days,
when you took the time and watched sun’s rays,
Tell me about bright blue sky days, trees standing tall,
how you loved to climb hills and watch the rain fall.
Tell me from your days, about the young, bashful girls
With no colour in their hair, yet pretty in their curls
Tell me how they’d look with no vain, gaudy makeup
did they look like boys, did you face gender ID mix-up?
Tell me about men too, they weren’t shy, were they?
I guess men have always been the same at their play
But goodness me, did they roll their hair into a bun
Or tie it with a band, as others stared and made fun?
Tell me about children, maybe…younger than two?
Cause seeing the ones of today, I haven’t got a clue
Surely, then, they had no remote controls of TV
Or mobile phones and toys with such large variety!
Did they speak anything of something called Ozone?
You heard of natural twins, but Dolly’s clone?
Simple remedies healed ailments without a doubt,
hearing of unknown “flu” I’m sure you freak out!
Oh Margaret! you have seen the best of both worlds,
days when life was simpler, and these days, so bold,
facing challenges you thought were not meant for you,
But you’ve blended so well in an era of mobiles and yahoo!
War is Over…
The war is over
and peace has prevailed…
we lost everything,
our minds, our cool over heated views,
and…
track of where it was leading us…
until we stood on the horizon
watching its fading…
~ the flames put out.
The war is over
and everything seems good and happy,
no one is troubled
no one, bothered
about words and abuses being bombed,
bruising each other,
and the fear of when the next fight will erupt.
Indifference in peace’s disguise now triumphs.
Indifference…
(sigh)
Indifference like children running free
from their fears on barren battlefields
yet to delight in nothing.
At least the world seems happier
frown erased,
and I can sleep well from those sounds of silence,
shattering the peace of each night.
The war is over and we have found our peace
in what we lost…
Hailstones and Rain
The rain poured down
and the sleet punched the ground,
you said in words
what stirred within,
when the sound
and the smell of wet soil
took me to your heart.
What better way to a day’s start!
Thinking of you,
thinking of things we’d do
in the rain,
without this stormy solitude.
How splendidly
they came down from the sky
one vulnerable, exposed
to the grimy lips of the ground,
the other, hitting the earth
in revenge as it fell down.
Oh! how splendidly,
they melted and blended as one!
Lasting Impressions
The railway station is a coffeehouse
with travelers of various flavours,
where artists and dreamers
sit and create impressions on the platforms of time.
Visions vault together
thoughts drenched deep
between the strokes on the canvas,
the painter
brings unknown travelers,
bustling in eternal silence…
to life.
Unraveling their mysteries,
and expressing their dreams in colours,
taking them to lands
far and beyond,
Sketching a moment in time.
When all dreams succumb,
and those traveled have completed their journey…
We will still sip from this magnum opus,
savouring the essence.
Woman
You have drenched me in love
>
from the womb and forever,
You need nothing
but the best of me.
You’ve been a mother figure
and given utmost attention
while mother’s away,
You’re the mother of my God,
imploring the graces for me.
Your heart is softer than mine
and you taught me what life is
and how the world looks like
from those classroom walls,
You’ve been my best friend
talking for hours without boring me.
You set my desires on fire
and melt me when you talk in my ears…
those lies
You’re a cheater,
A heart and a home breaker,
Your heart is much harder than mine.
You’re my best friend’s worst enemy,
You’re insatiable,
and your needs are twice as mine.
You’ve done all you can to hurt me,
not just once or twice,
and woman, I still can’t get myself to hate you…
For you’re not the only woman in the world.
Self Portrait
I wake up from my sleeping, curled like G clef
and reverberate in tenor pitch,
My thoughts, clustered like grapes
begin to flow their juices,
from my soul…
distilled, to be savored forever.
Tempted by the dreams like an erotic Greek goddess,
a deluge of contemplative drops
mark the pure linen with virgin thoughts.
Cold dark winter days
bleached by the warmth inside me,
as zealous eyes unlock mysteries on the fascia,
revealing my admiration for mirrored imagination
of truth and fate,
whose magnanimity I can’t conquer.
Failures, broken relationships shatter the mirror
and fragmented shards stare grotesquely,
back at me…
…I don’t falter
Standing on the precipice of tomorrows,
adventure excites me,
Optimistic of sunbeams dancing on silver hair
I keep painting my portrait on canvas divine.
I Learn
I learn when it rains
How it takes over the silence,
Four Decades And A Poem Page 11