Month: August 2022 (Page 1 of 2)

Mortality

You have, if lucky, twenty five thousand days
And a million books to fill this time
It is just a cute little joke that life plays.

And then to spend six out of seven on work that ‘pays’!
Truly work should be banned, declared a crime
For you have, if lucky, twenty five thousand days.

That stash of books, my treasure that’s all over the place
Is an excellent gathering device for dust and grime
It is just a cute little joke that life plays. 

When will I read all those Shakespeare plays
And all those novels of crime and works sublime? 
For you have, if lucky, twenty five thousand days.

And what of all the untrodden literary ways, 
The beautiful novel conceit, the unheard rhyme? 
It is just a cute little joke that life plays. 

Books numberless like the stars in outer space
Why can’t I have time for the small share I claim?
You have, if lucky, twenty five thousand days
It is just a cute little joke that life plays.  

Rain

As the clouds gather and the 
Sky lowers and looms
Grey dark advances twilight
The wind drives a leaf

Lights come on, twinkling signals
Of early night, a time
For hurrying home to hot
Drinks, cozy corners.

Circles

Through the night I’m prey to a thought
Its soundless clamour presses in on my ears
I cannot close my eyes against the dark
I pile up sandbags against the tide
But it follows its own timetable, rises,
Ebbs, and I alternately drown and surface.

I’m normal, all quiet on the surface
But underneath like a shark is the thought
When the moon is dark it is exposed, rises:
A craggy rock harsh and unchanged for years
And I’m the rock, unaffected by the tide
Of my affairs, visible even in the dark.

It is full moon but my fears hide in the shadowed dark
When dawn breaks the sun gilds only the surface
I fly, I soar, I’m free of gravity, but I’m tied
I’m pulled back, cannot break the tether of the thought
I close my eyes, I numb my heart, I stop up my ears
Yet like a drowned dead thing it rises. 

I have seen all this, I have seen many sunrises
And I have seen every sunrise give way to the dark
Now there is no music that is new to my ears
In triumph and elation notes rise to the surface
And fall again in tattered discord like a thought
That was fresh in the morning, wilted by eventide. 

Time is the thread with which my memories are tied
Sometimes I blessedly forget and my spirit rises
For the thousandth time I’m free of the thought
Only because there must be light for the dark
The cycle has its own rhythm, I cannot see beyond the surface
There is no time, life has its own plot, and so pass the years.

Now the moon is full again, the months become years
Now the moon wears away and I’m tied 
To its moods, and like the craters on its surface
Are the scars on my mind, each time it rises
Less eagerly, it knows it must return to the dark
And like a saturated blotting paper take up the thought. 

Over the years I have watched this thought
In the dark and when revealed by the tide
And always it rises to the surface. 

Dream girl

Yes, I know you’re only a dream
But that does not make you any less sweet
And your smile is just as glorious as a sunbeam
Yes, I know you’re only a dream
But it is you who makes dull grey reality seem
Like a beautiful technicolour treat
Yes, I know you’re only a dream
But that does not make you any less sweet

Dreams

How quickly our dreams’ childhood slips by
Only yesterday they were young and bold
Now they are no longer bouncy and spry
They are haggard, tired and so very old

Not too long ago they were warm, snuggly, nice to hold
We thought they would become big and real, by and by
But now they just sit there and complain and grow mold
How quickly our dreams’ childhood slips by

We thought when their wings grew they would fly
In the morning they fluttered and shone like gold
But when we looked away they turned grey on the sly
Only yesterday they were young and bold

While we were waiting for the future the years rolled
Like a film in fast forward, and then we think, why,
It’s here already, with a paunch, blood that’s cold
And no longer quite so bouncy and spry

There’s the school fees, grocery bill and the EMI
Who has money or time for dreams, that fool’s gold
We smile at those fancies now, for adults don’t cry
They’re haggard, tired and so very old 
   		How quickly our dreams die

Four haikus

Summer

The days are longer
The mangoes ripen, sweeten
Water is nectar

Monsoon

The smell of wet earth
Rivers flowing on the street
Make your paper boat

Winter

The nights are longer
Fingers wrapped around a cup
Stillness, silence, peace

Spring

Trilling calls of birds
Plants seeking the mellow sun
The eyes of a child

Memory’s place

It’s dusk, the sun has set, the west is still
All gold and red; but shadows gather, lights
Are blinking on, and pools of yellow spill
From lamps and mix with indigo of nights
My memory’s fond scenes, unchanged until
This day, I came again in search of sights
Of that magic old time, the house, the hill,
The streets of childhood’s fields; all gone, just blights
All starkly new; perhaps it’s just as well.
I went to seek pictures two score years old
And found a canvas layered thick with paint
So many lives and loves, all piled pell mell.
No traces of mine; no matter, safely hold
Them all unchanged in mind; so what if faint?

A couple of quatrains

Rockets, titans hurled skyward 
Raging, spitting gouts of white 
fire, at long last earth’s grip loosed.
Heaven waits, unknown, unbound.
--------- 
Within pages of books I find my 
worlds; uncountable, circling stars
Strange and wondrous, too distant for 
Ships but well within arm’s reach

Future

A time will come, just wait, it’s destiny
Of course it will, you bet, any money. 
Here, see, it’s clear, it’s carved on my palm,
Come wealth, come fame, come dame, also a farm,
A mansion small with twenty bedrooms, park,
Garages, cars and bikes, a lake, a bark
(A boat, that means, betimes we grope for rhyme)
And critical acclaim for poems sublime.
All will be mine, but when? The years
Have gone, a worried daze or happy haze
Always some dream or otherwise some fears. 
Now there’s more was than will, and greatness nears,
It's round the corner, years or months or mere days
Away, a tease, it fades and reappears. 

A translation of ‘lag ja gale’

Embrace me now my love, this heav’nly night
For who can tell, this fleeting life, we might
Or never yet, a chance to meet again.
These golden hours by good fortune are mine
Come close and fill your heart with me, this sight
For who can tell, this fleeting life, we might 
Or never yet, a chance to meet again.
Come close, for soon, mere memories remain.
My arms’ warm clasp, this time perhaps the last
My eyes that gleam with tears, will all be past.
Embrace me now my love, this heav’nly night
The moon, the stars, all move on while we wait. 
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