Visitors

I was half expecting visitors
But then you happened by,
I knew I needed cheering up
And knew exactly why,
Returning to an empty home
Had brought things home to me,
Just like a captured melody
That struggles to be free.

Through my window, lonely clouds
Are strolling slowly on,
Just like my happy memories
Were here, and now are gone,
And when the daylight fades away
Within the setting sun,
My softly chaptered poetry
I feel has just begun.

As in those setting moments
When the sunlight paints the sky,
I saw you in my garden
And at once, I knew just why,
A robin on my window sill
Could make me feel this way,
For summers fading serenade
Will come back soon one day.

I was half expecting visitors
Who never make me frown,
Who always make me smile again
When I am feeling down,
And when the sacred evening comes
Ill sing a different tune,
A duet of togetherness
With my old friend the moon..

Did u come to Earth that day???

Did you come to Earth that day
whilst I sat in my room
and fretted about tiny inconsequential things
that no longer matter to me?

Did you walk upon some dusty path
besides a silvery sunlit stream
and pause to admire the small,
star-shaped flowers that grew on its banks,
the trailing weeds of river-hair hiding little darting fish,
the delicate ballet of a transparent water-spider
dancing upon the surface,
the whirls and currents of tiny luminous bubbles
constantly moving and flowing in endless configurations
of creation and destruction
like miniature galaxies
and nebulae in their own watery universe?

When you sat upon the warm soft moss
amidst the sunbeams and clean fresh air,
with butterflies and insects and great golden bees
all about you and small inquisitive animals
observing you quietly from the sanctuary
of their hedgerow hideaways and burrows,
did I give you a moments thought as I turned
some petty grudge over and over in my mind?

When a milkmaid came and offered you some milk
and the effulgence of your radiant smile
was like a beacon of benevolence,
did I ever pause to remember the wonderful opportunity
of birth in a human body or stop for a moment
to simply listen to the birds singing outside my window?

And when you preached the Love
to the assembled pieces of one Heart,
who had come from all quarters of the Universe
to listen to you,
did I not even then put down my weary,
useless burden of sorrows and woes,
of little feuds and niggling negativities,
and cross the threshold of my door
to smell the rain-sweet meadows
and honey-rich bounty of summer?

Oh poor me, that I squandered
this precious life so worthlessly,
lying in some stupour of dissatisfaction
upon my shadowed cot,
watching abstract puppet-plays upon the walls
whilst you, in all your beauty and glory
walked about in the World
to spread Love and make me,
ME again!!

Beggars

My friend never
had money
to replace his
wornout shoes..
His friend told me
he knows
a place in the alley,
where they sell
Gods,
for just 10!
So now me n my friend
beg for alms
in that alley..
for we know,
we need money
to have GOD
so that we can pray
to have new shoes
this Diwali!

Swallowed

A smooth journey,

to mute chimes

of those opaque sources

of light and

heavy rain,

on the lands
of pinks, peach and brown,
to reach the corners
of the rose petal
to die there
forever...
never to flow again..

The last tear also,
swallowed by smiles...

The Leaving

I will leave this house
these tall towers that were built
to last forever
these tall towers that are now broken
and crumbling shattered
and cracked by storms
from without and within

Carved words worn by time
no longer legible
no longer have meaning
meaning forgotten

Empty rooms with crated memories
hold no warmth
hold no cold
in haunted hallways muffled echos
no longer sound
no longer enough
no longer compel

Wooden doors silently swing open
these doors that kept the world
at bay open to the unknown beckon
weathered stone steps worn by
countless footsteps
smooth stone steps
lichens and moss colouring
small silent cracks

Pale moon in a pale sky
shadowed trees silent sentinels
to soundless footsteps
following Phoebe's light
on a misted path

I will leave quietly

and let it rain...

The Bookends of Life

The book ends of life
Form a comforting wall,
But sometimes
The books
Can all topple
And fall,
Then the chapters
You read
Have a different feel,
Like
A carriage and four
When it loses
A wheel.

The pages you keep
With your bookmark of gold,
Can save you
A place
Where the story
Is told,
When your bookends
Are back
On each side
Of your world,
Like
The pennants of life
When they flutter
unfurled.

When nights shuttered door
Casts a shadow on through,
The absence
Of light
Makes a difference
To you,
Though the bookends
are back
When you needed
Them most,
You still hide
From the vision
Of yesterdays ghost

CoMMunioN

Across the great and shining void,
he called,his spirit in reverberation sang.
So silken were the fetters binding us,
I gave a start as bells of silver rang.


Soon he was everywhere and so was I,
our hearts in holy ardor blending bright.
How pure the emulation, once begun,
when did my soul begin to turn so white?


Such joyous chords, too high for mortal breath,
Oh, my beloved show me now the way
and let our hearts in merry tones now blend
as sweet communion sparked eternal day.


The revelation struck me like a knife,
before the earth began we yet were one.
Creation called and thus our spirits cried,
resounding at the birthing of the sun...

Walled Garden...

I have enclosed this space

Planted trees blinds, screens, trellises

So it is private; in all race

A rare luxury in this country

No eyes penetrate here,

Only sounds;

The mindful slapping of flesh

And the mindless smack of playing cards.

Brick red the wall,

But also clay yellow

Moss black…

Mud brown

Warmed by sunlight

Chilled by shadow

Damp with ivy

Glittering with parked dragonflies.

There may or may not be

Lilies as white as the moon..

As lies…as innocence ;

A mango, a fig, a pomegranate in flower,

A serpentine folly & other gothic paraphernalia..

Looming in the moonlight

A grapevine to camouflage a washline,

A septic tank covered over with turf

A wilting pear..

A tiny blood red spider…

A gate, sweetly shut on the World..

Impossible to believe in history walled in here,

Impossible to believe in this garden walled out there..

Its slavery or evasion or can it be both..

My garden roots me and frees me…

Exhausted by evening I step out onto the back..

And there is a spill of sunlight on the bricks..

A moistness in the air

A cool blue grey sky and

Fresh green leaves on the mulberry..

And without warning me,spring from the top step

Just takes off,

Ranting silent hosannas like scabrous angel,

As if the earth & everything in it were a gift…

Meant only for me..

I come thudding down on the Garden,

Ofcourse, but the mood is still on me,

And again the Divine Madness returns to claim..

Allright!!! its Slave..

A Slave..behind the Walled Garden..!

Crystal Bells...

Crystal bells chime in the air where I walk besides the Sea.
I heard them chime once long ago
in the worlds bright infancy and in the twilight of the world,
when the Sun is old and frail,
Ill hear those crystal bells again
in Midnights starry vale.

Crystal bells chime in my heart and in each living thing;
on all the winds that fill the world, hear the songs they sing.

Come to us, they seem to say, come to us, frail Man,
to golden fields beyond the Sun and niggard Times tight span.
The flowers in those flaming fields are burning just for Thee,
that you might gaze into their hearts and see their Mystery.
The trees that grow in that brave land are full of luscious fruit,
and all the worlds unfold their leaves between their crowns and roots.
The streams and rivers of that land run to some silver Sea
and therein all the blood of Man and all the tears of stars
are washed down through the valleys of Peace
achieving Harmony.

Crystal bells chime in the air and in my hungry soul;
I walk alone and desolate within the greater Whole.
I hear those crystal bells and yearn to open crystal doors
and walk the golden path of light beyond Earths tired shores.

O Crystal Bells, what errant wind has set you thus in motion
or did some God strike hammer to your fragile strength
beyond this restless ocean that throughout all the Universe
your crystal music sounds and in my solitary heart,
and in every wave that pounds against this stony land ?
What made Him make you, crystal bells, and lift His ancient hand?

Crystal bells chime in the air where I walk besides the Sea.
I heard them chime once long ago
in the worlds bright infancy and in the twilight of the world,
when the Sun is old and frail,
Ill hear those crystal bells again...
in Midnights starry vale.

I m ThE trEE tHaT WOrE yoUr olD rOpe sWinG

My trunk is scarred with lightning strikes,
My leaves, no stranger to years of blight
The sugar in my veins runs slowly now
but when you were young, I was in my prime,
sturdy in summer for that old rope swing
and flaming in autumn so brilliantly
that even I almost swooned.

Yesterday, you came back home.
Of course the old rope swing is gone, rotted
by so many years of sun and storm,
With hands almost as gnarled as my limbs,
you gently touched the rope marks
on my arm.

In that moment we retraced the years
again, back to when you spun around
or swung so high your toes touched heaven,
I was stately tall and spry in any wind,
And you my friend were agile as a cat.
The years now seem in such a rush
to tumble us from roots we've known so long, Eyelids closing slowly
Saying goodbye to the day,
Senses sailing quietly
And gently far away,
Through the realms of evening
Swim the shadows of the light,
Threadbare remnants of a dream
Adrift upon the night.

And as the evening wanders
Past the columns of the morn,
Where the distant glint of sunlight
Serenades the rising dawn,
There is such a sense of sadness
At the leaving of the shade,
That the morning weeps in sorrow
As the final shadows fade…
but make no mistake,

those that bend do not break.

Untouchable Rainbow

Intrepid clouds gather,
ravaging starlights
tender glow
tenacious tendrils cling
to loves swift exit
nails tearing tree
destiny crying for bridges
seeking sanctuary.

Tearful stars sprinkle
yesterdays avenues
desires and lost imaginings.

Dark winds trample memories.

No rays to illuminate,
No stars in purple.
Rivers of despair
run in torrential rhapsody
spanning ages.

Wheels scrape away dust of past.
Are rainbow untouchable?