Meena / Appu Clan

Meena watches us from miles

with Appu now by her side.

Through the sunlight streams her smile

to tell - here her soul resides.

And his own back Appu pats,

in the gruff voice joy he hides.

I guess he reads all our chats-

feel his scholarly eyes glide.

Yet we want to hear them more-

so we knock on heaven’s door.

Carpet

Here she lies in woolly laze

with the embroidery spread.

Here we soar in God’s embrace-

hope for wings with magic threads.

And her spell warmth emanates

in the winter nights of blur.

Royal aura nobly states

when honoured to walk on her.

But for joy and slumber deep-

what troubles under not sweep.

Intrinsic

Often I wonder of her-

the silent strength she portrays.

Of the fire that she stirs

like diamonds when on display. 

Then why I look to others,

ask if this beauty is fair?

When deep I hear the mutters

that she is beyond compare.

When virtues the soul unmasks-

your eyes will set the benchmark.

Threshold

We come from different terrains,

and arrive at the threshold.

With less faith in fate’s domain

we stand seeking a new road.

But we fear the time ahead

yet dare not the clock on hand.

And blemish the past instead

for unfit to take a stand. 

And to conceal the errors-

we just alter our mirrors.

Empathy

Today I assumed your guise,

wore your clothes, walked in your shoes.

I saw with your deep set eyes,

and wandered amidst your muse.

I sensed the throbs of your veins,

and your image undisguised.

Same old picture with new paints-

happy to be recognised.

The vicarious thrills and woes-

the soul of a mirror knows.

His Chair

Here he idled silent hours-

tea, newspapers, memories.

Here he sat but seemed so far-

sometimes lost in reveries.

Half shut window, half shut eyes-

often in noons he napped here. 

But his smile could not disguise

the thrill of ice cream with beer. 

Now his indented chair squeaks-

his deep-seated presence speaks.

Window

High up a house I sat by the window,

and let me eyes flutter till they watered.

On a quiet street where trams tinged below,

and wriggled through the old town and sauntered.

In the distance waltzed the colourful sails

to the rhythm of the melodic sea.  

Their lazy swagger left a frothy trail,

and naughty waves rippled with ecstasy.

And across my house lived an old lady

who sprinkled, caressed her pots of lilies.

She gazed at the trams from her balcony-

bemused by the riders ride wavily.

My long window frame filmed pieces of time-

with mugs of coffee, tumblers of red wine.