Apology / Eulogy

Here, once a tree stood,

all the artistry can't bring life-

it's wilted to wood.

Fawn hunted for sport,

designs the living;

pleasure from innocent source.

Sun draws the nature,

waltzes over the deep sea-

moon shades the picture.

In this intriguing nest

am I a miscreant,

stemming the growth of colourful eggs?

We fail to see the paint,

the stroke of His brush

imbibed in each space.

Hang Gliding

Road spiraled to the mountain top,

high and lonely,

geared for a sweet drop,

deep valley, magical streams appeared tiny,

fear wobbled over the mighty air,

in bird's territory,

wings glided beyond aware.

Timeline

Having seen in black and white,

I move into the technological zone,

new colours; bold and bright,

I reminisce about the generation old,

would I have opted for video games then,

if I were offered cyber space?

would these kids now play them,

if otherwise provided open place?

things joyed us long ago are not yet extinct,

if seen, felt with new set of eyes,

hands change as the clock ticks,

setting new trends, benchmarks, styles,

unfair to compare the present with the past,

it's just a timeline that's sped too fast.

Nocturnal

In the night I awake with his squeaks,
quivering nose he scampers around,

and I with my broom and stick,

the trap with a cheese, an open-fridge,

the race with the rat is once again set,

on my battlefield, on his playground,

he the prankster, me the pet.

Untailor

Stitched of a false mask,

buttoned with colourful threads,

I'm needled to last,

hold me not liable if I don't live up to the label,

an honourable suit weighs much,

tough to iron out wrinkled ends,

leave me untaiolred,untouched.

Rolling Marbles

On a quiet street corner boys roll marbles,

nor heat nor dust can pause those sweet thuds,

which resonate off the wall,

till the shadows stretch long.

Cleaving

Err not these inks ere they vaporize,

my quill has raised the spirits that once were razed,

I write to be wise but you think me otherwise,

eyes aged with rum, burn every page,

wonder what's stronger when this heart of mine bleeds,

love that pours from your jar, seldom ajar

or tears that needle when you leave me in needs.