darkening light

Photo Credit: Mike Still

alighting from the sun

a child walks on the water

wind can't blow her away-

that child lost in the threshold

of life and after-life.

secret passages of the lake

close in. her dad rues

lost opportunity.

sky seeks the child back into its fold

"blobs of light will reflect first, yet take it away"

jingling chains

turquoise blue stones on my wrist
are at home
I jingle silvers chains that hold them
sheen of green peeps through blue
when a butterfly flutters nearby
I let it sit on my bracelet
an antique, one of the legacy of heroes maybe
those heroes who were really sea pirates

"let the guitar play you"

MAC drives him nuts

Picture Credit: Walter Parada

in the labyrinth of computer peripherals
he stays awake
chasing the sleep away
sleep wants to sizzle in him
deep into the inner nakedness of his soul
(what you see here is just a projection)
those tiny hairs on his body stand out
fully charged yet so sleepy
still he chases it all away
with single mindedness
those keys interest him more
the screen holds him in the throes
the reflection in the mirror sizzles for him
red silken sheets behind him tell us a sensual tale

"let us leave it on him to finish it for us
while he waves it at us as a red flag"

prickly pines

scented leaves of pine
make me pine for you
thorny needles prick me
that droplet of blood 
is it an omen?
I believe it isn't 
red clay of the earth 
has another story to tell
hush little baby, don't you cry
this isn't goodbye, this isn't goodbye
in orange-grey light, dews do sign bright

"pining pines shed their needles, 
pricking me again and again"

who took march away from me?

march left me in a lurch
suppose it was in a hurry to go
to exit 181, 1/2 mile ahead.
to usher in the harsh summer

the april sun hits out at me.
painfully, I carry it on myself
a tempest in the making-
burning my skin in the process

loud march should have stayed
if the compass had not let it stray
maybe it needed my persuasive power
which I needed to use.

"riches of the disappearing months,
I try to collect in my palm-
waiting for you to pluck it from there"

unknown gap

some thing flutters
I watch wings unfold
midnight blue resonates

slide of it is a tribute
to the earthy feel
of scented surroundings

my feet fall into big gap

zigzag thoughts

the lines turn to zigzag;
make a sad song
on my broken record
it plays on and on

if Adam had covered Eve
I wouldn't have existed
neither you, but we do

that leaf can vellicate our skins
but do we ever learn to save the bell?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vellicate: 

• tickle: touch (a body part) lightly so as to excite the surface nerves and cause uneasiness, laughter, or spasmodic movements
• pinch: irritate as if by a nip, pinch, or tear; "smooth surfaces can vellicate the teeth"; "the pain is as if sharp points pinch your back"
  wordnetweb.princeton.edu/perl/webwn

ransom

your green eyes beguile me
with a hint of a smile
vast sea behind you cannot diminish your aura

that mind stretches mine to limits
that voice pushes me beyond me
yet I only see that defined chin

my cerebral nature has turned verbal
intellectual into sensual
I seriously pretend to be casual

I pick up the sensitivity
gently hold it to me
let essence of senses take over me

"the mafia that is you holds me to ransom"

is it an illusion?

it is the same pearl
I lost in your mouth
you rolled it in your tongue
made it disappear
I did not see it until today

you keep it safe,
I only want your tongue

cadence

when I wandered into your street
I searched for that yellow patch
it was the sun on hay
i had tried to pick up that golden powder
you had laughed at my naiveness
you too did not understand the carnival. 
the celebration of little things
the way one needs courage to embrace that

"silver light of the morning turns to gold, 
and then at night we are sprinkled with diamonds"

destined destination

I sit by the side of that highway
in a gloomy, dark day
an occasional car passes by
a few stop too,
going their way on my un-response
what I doing on that lonely road-
I see questions in their stance
yet I sit there, unmindful
I look at that orange tree
which is some way from where I am
in that drab day
it seems to be the only bright thing
but I know I will get what I seek
when it gets dark,
I know night is not far away
when trucks start arriving,
it gladdens me much.
you are still driving one out there,
it has been years
but you will know me from far
this is where we first met

"truck is a journey, trucker is its pivot, I am the destination"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wrote a series of trucker poems, the one before this was written one year ago. This one is a continuation. I have always wanted to go back. Do read those too along with this. All are stand alone, yet connected.

dead man and his bottle of wine

dead man gets out a bottle of wine, one he had given up when he was alive
when he was alive he was more dead, shunning wine and fine dine
dead man takes a swig, grimaces and spits it out at his own feet
his feet feel so heavy, he had walked miles and miles before his final sleep
dead man is thinking, what is he thinking? OMG, elves are sooo 2009!
that was the year he died, elves carried his body, buried him in a hole
dead man throws away the empty bottle, picks another to drink all night
he doesn't wish to remember how his mind triumphed over his desires,
dead man plans to drink as long as he wants, no one can stop him
death was a welcome diversion, and where have the elves gone?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Also check out dead man and his shoe painting

winning me over with pointy-toed shoes

to staid for too long
I needed a makeover
I painted my nails green
designed them with dots and lines
when I showed those to you
you smirked
and handed me something
I unwrapped it
an involuntary gasp of shock 
escaped my lips 
when I opened the shoe box
and saw the pointy-toed shoes
I turned around
and hit you hard with those heels

"If you had got me boots, you wouldn't have been booted"

fallen

your brush 

strokes in the paint

as translucent as skin, 

I observe

the facial expressions.

this planet

since we arrived here

holds all our secrets

no matter how much you try, 

the painting will not be an antidote

of your bloodied past

it would rather enhance your instinct

when your blade cut across bodies

"yet your engravings now project gratitude"

glittering gloom

on a gloomy and windy day
I need an apprentice
(for what you may ask)
someone has to
paint stars in to the gloom, 
fill it with glitters;
rewind the wind
to let it flow above
so as to reach the sky
and make it peerless

"I will towel the ground,
let that stranger watch me,
little knowing he is my apprentice"

electronically yours

tiny electrons,
arrayed into words- 
jump into my page

I play around with them
the fire reaches out
melting me immediately

a seed, fruition
at its fringe-
is a gesture no more

inside walls of my skull
tackle a patchy tattoo
myriads of treasure

"tiny electrons enthrall me, always" 

tablet of time

a tablet of time 
broken-
no one can break the aeons
they move so fast
in a blink.
here the tablet lies in debris
the moments already passed
into eternity
I see the dates
(a day of masquerades?)

I bury myself under the tablet, 
into the debris, 
fall asleep, with time
I don't need any other lover

perception

I swipe the floor twice
still curdled smell of milk persists
I also wipe the tears from her eyes

what if her dress is smeared with dirt
her hair is a ghastly sight
I gently untangle it with my fingers

she wipes her nose in my neck
I smile slightly and kiss her eyes
lead her to her favourite place-

she settles with a bowl of crispies
thumbing her book once in a while
I watch serene smile return to her face

knowing her, if you say
this is the scariest story I've ever heard...
I will totally disagree, as I know

she found clouds in the spilt milk
dragons fought for her,
while unicorns held her hand

now she sits here replete
with another dream in the making
I wonder, what would I find the next moment?

"in that brief moment nirvana emerges out of nowhere"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I couldn't think of any other title for this. Suggestions are welcome.

within the pages

in the pages of my poetry book
I find you pressed to love poems
when I untangle you, you resist
I too lie down beside you
submerging myself into the pages
the press of you into me
unleashes my hinges
the musty smell of poetry
embraces us both
I close the book enclosing us, 
open into you impusively
lost in the mazes of the pages

Trick or treat!" they shouted as the door opened...
within the book we were both a treat, no tricks

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Saturday Centus: Trick or treat!" they shouted as the door opened...

dad, farther and farther away

in the closet
I catch a whiff
I rummage it again 
in the dark,

standing first on one foot
then another-
I can still see you
in the back of my eyes

my closet encloses 
all I hold dear
encircling too
my lonely thoughts

missing you suddenly
after eight years
I can hear you call me-
you reach me with your hug

"you were my centre, I am still the circumference"