Rocco

Clank of the gate- he charges at the door.

The excited barks mislead one to run.

Timid I walk, unaware whats in store,

but he sniffs and licks and wags in welcome.

I am accepted- shreds my socks to threads,

jumps around, shows off his half-eaten toy.

Then, falls on the sofa with huge bulk spread-

the long tail swooshes and glasses destroys.

Unconcerned, he snoozes till clink of an ice

or a call of biscuit awakes him wide.

Suddenly, he is at your feet with saint-eyes

that butter you up, melt your heart every time.

Mischief done- he rolls over and over.

I pull his ears, he mock-surrenders.

Thin Line

A tiny girl on the roadside;

walks on a rope hung ten feet high.

A long bamboo for balance-

onlookers pause, cheer and sigh.

Back and forth she walks for living-

like finger rolls on guitar’s string.

Below, a bowl awaits soup-

which wobbles with occasional dings.

Hunger beguiles.

Trots on thin line.

Two Zero One Three

Memories I collect-

reflect,

dissect,

and select.

Like paints on a canvas-

they fuss,

some slush,

and of lust.

The Painter

The sun throws light over the subject.

The fiery mountaintops

heave and roll along the river bed.

Would a brush tame the wild green bush with new paint?

Artist fills the sheets with a figure-

in all fullness sprawled across.

And the dusk sets in to empurple.

Tattooed

My heart sways in wilderness as bizarre moon departs.

Surreal and shorter seem incense filled, insane hours.

Bound in your spell, a lava unleashes from the cell-

sizzles thru each vein - on my soul your tattoo engrafts.

On A Pier

Outstretched I lay on a pier wide, square,

gaze up at the sky which stares down at me.

When the dusk-sun, a different colour wears,

and eve-winds aid a flock of birds to flee.

Deeper, the long white sails lazily sway-

a romance with blue waters as they waltz.

And my mind saunters away from the bay-

if only the sand in the glass would pause.

Far, the sun dips further into the bowl.

Wonder if you too are seeing it from miles.

I look up and watch the dispersing clouds

to find your face flash and sparkle a smile.

Nor distance nor time can untie the lace,

forged by your memories - a boundless trace.

The Floating Village

Rolling over the foams of a river,

in a catamaran I cruised along.

To the beats of my heart chugged the motor,

and wind blew away the hat I had donned.

The sun shimmered hurling the yellow pecks.

As I sailed, the waters seemed to widen.

I dangled my feet over the front deck,

and looked farther to the blue horizon.

In the distance lay stationed a herd of boats

which housed children, families, numerous pets.

With schools, hospitals - a village afloat,

and people traded in floating markets.

Bare-chested young kids raced and sprang around

waving to each and every passer-by.

Their faces glowed with energy abound,

and I watched them with unabated sigh.

How well joy streams in thru places unknown,

and fills up those silent, unaware gaps.

My catamaran whistled with a moan-

signaling the time for our final lap.