Words

Sometimes like paste 

smoothing out of a tube

At times like a baby 

labouring out of womb

~ June 19, 2020

Glowing Faces, Pissing Pots

Glowing faces, holding devices

walking boundaries, slowing pace

unnerving statistics, changing dynamics

revealing rumours, feeling faint 

merrymaking brats, chiding parents

Cut to scene ii:

Pissing pots, germinating glory

calming plants, clinging stalks

helping tendrils, soaring alacrity

saving seeds, growing greed

experimenting life, exchanging notes 

passing clouds, raining sometimes

surprising turns of events

blooming hearts, feeling great

sowing hope, reaping success

learning lessons

rooting back to basics

being down to earth

~ June 18, 2020

Wet

We get beaten up

until we come clean

We are tumbled around

until we kick out the dirt

That's the rule all around,

no point negotiating...

But then,

it's worth even if we are hurt

because when we get wet,

hung and hooked, and

lie high on tight ropes,

all day long, we get to flirt

and flutter with our folks,

and it's still OK to be

downed and left low and dry

because everyone's on 

a cycle of low and high.

We are the clothes 

hanging high 

on the clothesline 

and hooked

by the clothes peg.

~ June 16, 2020

Mind's Eye

A moment came when,

on a moonless night, with

a bunch of ambling clouds

patching the dark blue sky,

I could have aimlessly 

peered through the vast

expanse of the darkness 

so deathlike, dull and dry,

but looked skyward to spot 

a twinkle or two, and

some anonymous birds

darting with a sideward gait,

and just then, 

just over my head

on a patch of clear 

deep blue canvas,

I glimpse a fleet of 

white ethereal beings

fly past with such grace.

I cannot help but ponder...

For once, 

I do not have to bother 

to look at a wonder

the second time

through my camera's eyes

because this moment 

hidden afar in darkness

cannot be frozen with 

such detail, depth, and clarity

by anything but 

my mind's eye.

~June 13, 2020

Flavours

Cows are lazing around, and leaves are shining brightly, under the street light's glow. They are swinging merrily by the branches' arms like there's no tomorrow. There's orange, vannila, mango, ready for a perfect tango. And, there's berry flavour too... Strawberry and black currant. All seen from a distant, these are flavours of pastel colours peeping out of the windows. Out of greed, I decide to buy one of each. My eyes devour some instantly, and freeze the rest as words. Time passes by, and words become verses. The night deepens, and houses' night lights begin to shut. One by one, the flavours disappear, as a reminder for my slumber. ~ June 09, 2020