horizon

stop translating my horizon
and never interpreting my senses
for the smell of cloudy evenings
means a bowl of ceylon tea with no honey to me

better not try to recite my lines
cause the moon kicks the jumping cow
and all the dish and the spoon never have a chance to run away
here, the cat spanking that little dog for playing with its fiddle

no
don't you color my rainbow
the bowing bamboo trees demand something new
for mine is white and green...
a little bit grey and brown will make it special
a touch of reddish face will do no harm
tough orange and indigo will double the warmth

well, don't you bother what i see:

the sticky water, the crisp air and the sweet danger
bouncing up and down like a flea
on a blue round trampoline

and i will just  sit here on a big stump
to paint my mind with a new picture
the grandest one



@made in poem
end of march 2012

under the sofa

on the sofa he lays
a weary soul yearns for a prayer
he's been away for a long tiring journey
till he loses all his hair so grey

in the corner let us pray
with incense from Mumbai raised high
wishes and hopes, a constant praise
to the Divine one, the Holy Ray

this broken soul on the sofa
renouncing his life so true
like a bird perches on a twig
tweeting its story white and blue
and how he paints his image
pale but sweet

under the sofa now he peeps
at his wrecked soul he tries to hide
only to find angry roaches
that keep their stories in the same pit
secretly wrapped in a piece of anguished  paper

crumpled
and
tormented



@made in poem
march 2012

queer gesture

we ___ sat side by side

on the same bench outside

we___ ate rice and apple from the same table

cooked and baked, laughed and loved 
all in fake...

i am glad it didn’t turn to hate

we___ started and finished the day with our own prayers

from monday to sunday there was nothing more to say

we___ shared the bed we shared the roof

and nothing bad nor good needed to be proved

for you are here miles away from near

you delivered a sheer picture of a motherly figure

to your dreary and weary daughter

totally unclear, was that so real?

thank God for He is always near

to help me cope with the fear

and to enable me to remove all the barriers

that stand along the way…

to love you and forgive you 

though your love is still a queer gesture

from a mother to her daughter
that won’t draw us even closer 
to each other…

@made in poem

pamphleteer

inspire me of fire
a sincere desire
and turn me into a pamphleteer
working on her paper
in spontaneous manner...


@made in poem

answer me not (2)

 answer me not (2)

should i adhere to the old times

  when no sincere statements arranged in rhymes

the times when words lined up as hearses to the obsequies?

then, tell me how to comprehend

the  reverberation of such offence

or teach me to understand

 and be able to take the helm of my mind

  in my own time…

@ made in poem