Tuesday, July 17, 2018

Mummy (1937- 2018)


There is a soft mist in my eyes today
that blurs my vision but not her image.
She is somewhere near though far away-
talking in my thoughts quoting her adage.
Come weekend, and my phone would promptly buzz-
her Friday-call for our ritual dinner.
What would I like to eat ? - she would ask and fuss,
then wait for me with ado and eager.
But now she is gone, and I sit and wait-
her absence so abrupt with least fanfare.
I ask her - could
n’t you have left little late? -
But the time comes soon though appears unfair.
I miss her laughter and spiced-up gossips.
She smiles from beyond as the red sun dips.

Monday, May 7, 2018

Bizarro


She treads the path that few take,
walking miles for a just cause.
She braves the odds and the aches-
undeterred without a pause.
Strong-willed of whimsical mind,
but heart melts to others’ griefs.
A woman one of a kind
who stands up for her beliefs.
She is more a friend than wife
I would want in every life.


Friday, April 20, 2018

Postcard


On my birthday each year,
he would send me a postcard.
Tiny yellow souvenir
of love, wishes and regards.
For as long as I recall,
my day began with his post.
Red- penned in his usual scrawl
would be the ritual toast.
Now his image stamped, impressed -
blessings from a new address.


                      

Saturday, March 17, 2018

Crossroads


The roller-coaster years,
awash with fear and thrill.
So surreal they appear -
with their flashbacks the soul fills.
A long adventure now ends,
life pauses for a new one.
Surprise waits at the next bend -
change of boots for second run.
Bind your memoirs in a sheaf -
as thieves sigh with a relief.


Monday, February 26, 2018

Hope


Virtues seek reciprocal-
gestures vie for approval.
But desires equivocal,
and the fate appears cruel.
You rejoice in the belief
that deeds would be gratified.
Alas! this fancy is brief,
and such futile seems the pride.
The soul has treacherous roots.
And hope is a bitter fruit.


Tuesday, January 30, 2018