Poem

Grandfathers life boat was anchored
with Ramakrshna mission ropes
With Vivekananda as compass
he navigated few streams
of limited social choice
and died peacefully in sleep.

Our devouring generation
never happy with accepting
maps a course on IPhones
for a gluttonous ship
making narrowing concentric circles
in an ocean of plenty
heading for an epicenter
of restless emptiness

2 Old poems

On second thoughts
------------------
For a split second eye to eye,
At the doorway you and I,
My throughts try to read your
thoughts through the haze,
while with open admiration
at you I gaze..
A split second,
but my thoughts,
will keep pulsating,
for hours on end.

The swimmer
------------------

There are no voices around,
I drown in my silence,
the whispering breath of time,
bubbles up to the surface,
leaves me behind
in blue solitude

Does it all go unheard...
In the busy harbour of the hearts,
In the din of boats drifting in,
drifting apart ?

At the memorial

Stay behind until dark-
It is peaceful and beautiful here at night,
and lying down on this field,
you can count the stars and
feel the wind across the Potomac
on your face.
Not interested ?
My fault perhaps,for when you're 21
small things seems miraculous and magical,
and youth expendable, on such poetic indulgences.
But you who stand beside me now,
middle aged,mediocre,but survivor anyhow,
peering at crosses that stretch across the plain
reading rank,medals and name-
you were always wiser,to not have enlisted.
For I'm 21, six feet under, and dead.

The Lonely wife

I confess...
I've never tried the internet before..
I am a little nervous, but curious even more.
woman in mid thirties,accomplished, successful,
Wants time out with someone playful,
I am married, feel supported, quite respected,
but at times ignored,somewhat neglected.
My fingers tremble, type type type..
But I've heard the voices inside
need a little fun on the side.

The thief

All week I wait
for a glimpse of those eyes.
They do not know the madness
that lives in me.
Hidden behind the civil smile,
we will talk for a while
of future plans and possiblities
While a scheming fuguitive on the run
breaks into the room in her heart,
but empty handed, departs.

Another week I wait....
Time flies fast,
Days burn in anticipation in the sun
and wither like dry flowers in the night.
The voices of reason have long since drowned
Drunk in the gaze of those eyes.

The Art of forgetting

Someday I shall certainly forget you,
Like the grass in the fields forgets
the winter snow
Like the fog of winter
leaves the autumn sunsets only a memory.

On solitary Sunday afternoons,
My steps take the old familiar road
A flight of stairs, a familiar song,
Tapping feet on a wooden floor.

Yes I shall certainly forget you,
in this crowd of beautiful faces,
whose names within a moment of knowing
I may forget to recall
Weren't you just another among them all?

And yet sometimes I just might,
staring into a pair of dark eyes
(seems like yours, in disguise ?)
Or looking at a baby's familiar smile,
remember you for a while.

As I weave dance patterns on the floor
if a whiff of that familiar perfume
were to drift across the room
I might lose my step and stall
(while my partner stares, appalled)


Tossed by the wind across the street
A small black butterfly
caresses my cheeks
The memory of you, and reminder to
the ephemeral finality of life itself.

Someday with a peaceful smile
I can forget to forget you.
Like a lonely sea that remembers
to return everything to the shore.

A cold man and a loving woman

In August when it pours in Mulund,
a lush green moss covers the walls
on the way to the station.
I had walked that road with you.
An hour of synthetically sweetened iced tea later,
you grew like moss around my heart-
a soft,gentle velvet embrace.
Your words danced like raindrops,
But I still remained confined,
in the plastic glass
of my synthetically sweetened mind

I dont know if these recent short poems that come to me are good or trash. But I know in order to get original work I must allow the writing to develop and not control it. Hence I beg any uinfortunate reader going through this to bear with me.

Rainy Summer afternoon

Like a river flowing into the sea,
I give myself away to you.
like sparkling fireworks on a Diwali night,
I shall ascend and errupt in brilliant glow,
to watch my burning reflection in your eyes.
The summer thunderstorm came unannounced,
Unlatched windows rattled and smashed by the joyous wind,
The neatly laid clothes on the line in disarray
now kiss and smell the wet earth.