Stamp

 

There is a stamp with a glaze-

triangles on frill border.  

It has my wrinkled old face

enhanced by talcum powder. 

I shall now travel the world,

and I will be recognised-

this aged wine sweetly mulled

labelled with a wee bit price. 

Rail, road, sea, take me by air

till the day I become rare.

Attic

 

All my journals are stored in the attic-

along with albums, letters and what not. 

For years on they will remain there static

till they just become some entangled knots. 

Sometimes I pass by and look up at them-

silently they sit with a calm repose. 

Filled with my thoughts and writings are these gems-

and my picture with a beautiful pose. 

I climb the attic to clear the old web. 

Could I discard these memories for space?

Tears flow, emotions at their lowest ebb-

but soon this maze new tidings shall replace. 

New books, new photos- the attic ages.

And yet remains the scent of those pages. 

Monsoon

 

Rain pelts its relentless spears. 

Few shelters, few souls they pierce. 

Drenched in water, thirst not quenched-

I guzzle couple of beers. 

Bathtub

 

I immerse myself in a hot bathtub.

Foam spreads its warmth across my tired body.

With a perfumed soap lazily I scrub,

and close my eyes thinking of nobody.

The bubbles rise, fall and burst everywhere-

mingle with the froth of icy champagne.

My limbs get pampered, my bones are repaired

as the scented vapour relieves my pain.

I sip the sparkling wine with eyes still closed.

But sense the twirls of steam float in the air.

Invisible fingers massage my brows.

The music I hum has a heady flair.

Pleasure courses through, despair disappears-

could the clock stop - the future not appear?

Gannu

 

Roly-poly round belly

with the prankster mouse pious-

he sits with a look airy

on the great royal dais. 

His large ears hear all our chants

while the little eyes twinkle. 

His nose twirls as in a dance,

and irons out our wrinkles. 

But soon comes time for good-bye-

we immerse, He will stand by. 

Janmashtami

 

Embodying divine spirits

the human pyramid soared.

Swaying with colourful wits,

the souls danced as the rain poured.

And amidst the bells of joy,

a small boy climbed to the top.

Mischievous appearing coy,

he broke the clay yogurt pot.

And as the white honey flew-

deep inside me a conch blew.

Cause

I hurry because I fear. 

Worry for the path unclear. 

All I do is fuss about 

for I am somewhere though here. 

Bookaholic

Pages of a book unfold. 

Or the kindle-mate lights up. 

Day begins with folklores old

‘fore  the morning tea is slurped. 

As the stories roll and stir - 

every word is scrutinised. 

In the silence of murmur

a peppery tale is diced. 

The scent of the texts galore

with the allure of a lore. 

Pause

 

Now is the time to slow down

for the hands of time slow not. 

Let those dull bygones not hound

for after-time who knows what.

Why look for a cause to fight?

Life is good and yet you whine.

The tired limbs seek a respite. 

This race has no finish line. 

A smile can erase each scar. 

The glass will tell who you are. 

Yawn

 

My days are filled with long yawns. 

Bright no more glares of neon. 

Those dusks that I so longed for -

come eve and I wait for dawn. 

War For Peace

 

Bullets fly to maintain peace.

Who are foes, who are allies?

Nights are long for fires not cease,

and loud are the peace rallies.

Fog of war is blur but clear-

we see but do not believe.

To the past the futures steers,

and all we ask is to live.

Truth is shamed, a lie is praised-

now unsure which flag to raise.

Pyre

And slowly it burns in the fires of pyre 

the figure that warmed us with golden words. 

Even in pale death how neatly attired

all so ready for the journey onwards. 

Old memories blaze as the flames engulf

to wrap me in that familiar embrace. 

Tears well up as I try to bridge the gulf

between truth and hope lest I lose its trace. 

Often I feel the presence in my dream-

in the lovely haze I wish that clears not. 

I wake not though unreal it may deem

for it binds us with those surreal knots. 

As the pyre burns- I muse, fidget and fuss-

if ever a soul lived for a purpose. 

Fragile

 

Can you enjoy the summers

when the heat is on and long?

And snow with its cold murmurs-

or fails to tune in a song?

Do you enjoy the rain drops

or they fall hard on your heart?

Does the autumn bring dep sobs,

and spring seems less of an art?

All weathers can bring a smile

if your soul is not fragile.

Armour

 

Need an armour so these arrows deflect,

or get blunted by the sharp iron grille. 

These arrows nothing but misery reflect,

and need to burn them with a fiery will. 

They cease not to shoot from the blurry past 

for fate has a quiver full of these darts. 

Let them not find their marks and shadows cast,

for they relish and eye those fragile hearts. 

Forge an armour - break these shafts with metal

lest their jealous paws put a scratch on it. 

It is time to arm and prove your mettle-

you have the wit and the skill to hone it. 

So fear not that spear that threatens to pierce

for its flight may be swift but fright not fierce. 

Swear

 

I swore I would exercise.

But the strain now makes me swear.

I swore to give up all vice-

this guise I swear when I wear.

I swore I would help poor souls.

But swore when they asked for more.

I swore to reach my life goals.

And swear when demands galore.

I swear, I swear and I groan.

And swear to what I have sworn.

Baited

 

A fat fish swam in the calm blue waters.

A fisherman in a boat sped to catch it.

The fish swam faster to lose its stalker,

but the net was set to cast to latch it.

The fish seemed to have given up the race

when it spotted another fisherman.

The fish swam to entice him to a chase,

and soon was in the middle of these men.

It surfaced, smiled and dived into the sea.

To snatch it, both fishermen collided.

The fish escaped- these two were all at sea-

helpless in water clumsily chided.

Hunger not sated, for long they waited-

entangled in their own nets stood baited.

Happy Birthday

 

Years add feathers to my hair.

The black shine is now white glare.

Come and sit by my old porch-

have a  jug of wine to share.

Wall

 

Over the eyes wall is built-

eyes are open, see nothing.

Wall is bricked to hide the guilt.

And if it falls, eyes may sting.

The wall is layered to divide

those who appear to differ.

These blocks will mock and deride,

and make human race dimmer.

To cement, we need not much-

break the wall that denies touch.

Talisman

 

You have magic in your charm.

Or with silence you disarm.

Those sweet soulful eyes absorb-

And any hustle can calm.

Niyo - My Baby

 

The time you popped open your sparkling eyes

my life seems to have signed up a new lease.

The whoops of joy were timeless, undisguised

which year after year I knew would not cease.

You were always sure of what you wanted-

be it school, friends or eating an ice cream.

The beguiling innocence you flaunted

that still makes me smile even in my dreams.

You are one of the rarest gentle soul

with patience to match your inherent might.

I know this makes your mischievous eyes roll-

which is one of the most beautiful sights.

Life is a jigsaw they say, that maybe-

you will solve them all - Niyo, my baby.