Green Tea

Saw her last, wrapped in sniffles and coughs,

Hence my Green Tea gift for convalescence,

Eyes narrowed, lips pursed as she grimaced,

Thanks for savorless brew for lifeless tongue.

She was of impeccable taste, from tan to toe,

Sampling experience, nourished with such,

Awed by the pleasant, bored with the good,

In her chase from Here Now to Where Never.

(2012)

The Joke

Dressed grey, she wanted it in black and white,

Equally, her joke was nice, ‘casual messaging’

She typed, ‘it was between us, never serious’,

It was not at all serious, I admitted, checkmate!

No one died. Cell count healthy. ECG Normal.

No abnormal skew in climate change carbon,

Petrol hike mercifully in place before the event,

No stock market zig, nor interest inflation zag,

Some distant galaxy affair, not terrorist attack,

Not about monsoon, nor about farmer suicides.

She had a ‘tendency to mislead’, it continued,

Aha, a handsome couple we would have made,

Her aptitude to mislead, mine to be misled,

No quarrel either on route or the destination.

She waited wordless so long ‘to avoid the hurt’

Letting knife sink inches all those quiet days,

Now ready for that one final thrust to cut neat,

My executioner sitting next to her feeling edge,

I saw last clouds scatter before my final sunset,

But kind even in goodbye, she wished me luck.

Her guilt shutting door fast, much was unsaid,

For instance, words of love received in silence,

The juicy puzzles sent with gaping stars to fill,

Of the winks and those tongues that stuck out,

Her head knew and heart felt and spine sensed,

The gentle emptying of one spirit onto another,

When silence was eloquent and speech baffling,

Thoughts in perfect wedlock with the passions.

Smile, darling, as you whistle your way to bed,

You called me joker once, loved your joke on me.

(2012)

The Deception

Skilled at drama, she played her part too well,

Practicing moves at every instance, off lights,

Don’t need her snaps, knowing her every turn,

That inviting look, that snare of restless fingers,

The venom of her fangs, the depth of her bite,

Relationships were scripts, every person a role,

Focused and diminished to her changing needs,

They were gestures all, well tailored to each,

Her early crawl to lonely dotage yet to be,

She was a baby once, so innocent and so cute,

Claps of joy and cries through powdery mess,

Cued to newer toys at shop than boy next door,

Then a girl, her charm oozing from every pore,

Smile to scowl, scaled to mood of that moment,

For he of hairy chest, or a joke, or a larger car,

Sometimes all three, safe distance from each,

Becoming mother next with her breasts intact,

Weaned children on healthy government milk,

Proud that as they grew, she became younger,

Being talk of town at Parent - Teachers Meet,

Older next to dictate choice of her son’s mate,

One that could cook to her loosened molars,

Literate to read her pills, press her lower back,

Never having felt heat of sun or chill of dew,

Never having sensed falling rain on raw skin,

Stranger to tears, hot and cold, down cheeks,

Never having seen anyone straight in the eye,

She now prays to God to carry her off in sleep.

(2012)

Last Lines

What brings us together could tear us apart,

If you measure my love through my verse,

Single day’s verbosity won’t flood banks,

Nor next day’s wordlessness dry the river.

My skill in words inch towards perfection,

While my love like sea will feel no decline,

May skill at word never equal depth at love,

My best lines on you ever remain unwritten.

(2012)

Dramatic Space

‘Khuli palak me jhoota gussa, bandh palak me pyar /

Jeena bhi mushkil, marna bhi mushkil….’

The old poets were right; life indeed is a stage,

Entire drama being played out, offstage and on,

While fate gets rehearsed, emotion never does,

All viscous is tears; only need to drip and flow,

Deep or wide, wrinkle is either a laugh or smile,

Rest can flow subterranean, like clue of prompt,

Distant, invisible, waiting, be useful on purpose,

Love is no play; mine was one in lack of space,

Asked to be your face, just got to be your mask,

Felt the heat of your sweat, not the why of it,

Sought to be your script, but got to be your plot,

A rare chance at rewrite, even to we puppets,

I could have been feelings, mere gestures it was,

Reading you from signals just like next stranger,

Grammar I aspired, but became your language,

To seek you beyond confines of noun and verb,

In that hail of fabric flora, write of me some day,

As the one true flower that struggles to be a fruit.

(2012)

Dinner By Candle

Candle light dinner is for thirty plus,
Wax drips to teach how time melts,

How it hurts, the force of its strike,

Leaving behind hard and shapeless,

Of fading shades, weakened grasp,

So let’s hold hands, fingers entwine,

Wrap tight, lest hours slip our mesh,

Let’s squeeze moments to last drop,

Making pulse race faster than clock,

Let’s lock our lips, sync our breath,

As appetites whet to the unfamiliar,

Preparing to digest joys at debut,

Stroking of hair, pecks on ear lobes,

Hands moving across abacus of ribs,

Nose as pointer scanning your back,

Your endowed rear as a gentle drum,

But candles shorten, whisper to sigh,

And it is time to choose your menu,

As left and right run up your spine,

As wax wane and glow on last drop.

(2012)

Lines To The Mother Of Six

Poems are children too, sprung of fitful passion,

Here are ours, six birthed in less than a season,

Many were spawned, but these found the mark,

Manifesting your symmetry, cupping its charm,

Chiseled like your curves but deep like your tan,

Metrical like your lust - wild and nailed in place,

Dancing like lioness’ mane to lilt of your gait.

Two on your hips, two more on your shoulders,

One entwined around neck, one walking besides,

Weaned on your milk and nurtured by our love,

They outlive us, with some even bringing fame,

Lisping in tongues that we had never ever heard, 

They grow from prattle of rhyme to deft of craft, 
Hymning ever of you, even across sands of time.

 (2012)

Setting The Thing You Love Free

Setting this thing you love free,

It departs, leaving you on fire.

Passions stoke more in absence,

Communion acute in silence.

It may return on wings or seed,

Tired bird back to nest in heart,

Or as a strong tree yet unborn,

Of deeper roots, farther spread.

And wheels of my life grinds on,

Amidst endless lines of traffic,

That extra legal word in draft,
Oracle bugs and graze of cows.

(2012)

Remorse Reveries

Archives stacked and indexed neat,

For reminisces at noon and winter,

Cuds of times that never were,

Words spoken, silence out of turn.

Many forks on dark, deserted roads

Passing lights too fickle to anchor,

Steering to eye, without feel of feet,

‘Evade bumps than keep to map’.

Alien routes, strangers in new land,

Drizzle to rain, all huddled together,

Some came for breath and sweat,

Some came for a hitch and a ride.

Those souvenirs of expeditions past,

Dusty, once shone, brought smiles,

Beer Mugs, Laughing Buddha, Rings,

Go to bin; light bag for ageing back.

Mists retreat, warm feet restless,

Enticing paths circling forest hill,

Pacing to  smell grass under trees,

And listen to songs of birds above. 

(2012)

Waiting For Her Messages

 

Shooting message deep into circuit sky,

To her in exile as unnamed constellation,

For dots to connect across virgin vasts,

To know her contours, navigate her map,

To span her rainbow from smile to tears,

While her reply is a star, silence too is,

Filling up her profile with bone and flesh,

Gestures none, but yet not beyond hope,

Mean times of her reply give them away,

A second for love, just another for fury,

Half minute to pout, an instant to giggle,

Minute plus for that one unbroken stare,

Cluster of them flow in to double her joy,

Heaps of them clog to halve her sorrow,

By such trickle of reactions is she felt,

The waiting kills but her response thrills.

(2012)