Cake of crumbs

Cake of crumbs

He sits on the woody branch of a
tree, green verdures around the locale,
as if parrots block ensemble,
sudden shake of a feel , caught by blizzard,
those songbirds snug to the thickets by,

the ones recently migrated fear the exodus,
some rustles as though notes of prophesy,
I look up to the invisible and invincible,
“I drop some pellets or crumbs of eclectic
Poetic inspiration, bake a cake of creativity,”

It is appetizing, for the cake
grows bigger day by day.
as though necromancy became
water into it.

The protest

The protest.

There is hardly any spoon of well-cooked
Rice,that goes down your throat,
your trachea turns back,
hungry mouths swallow,yet
the process is slow and segmented,


The pouncing food protests,
just as the watch dog’s barks,
I am plundered and harvested,
from the field not belonging to you,
smeared with treachery, soiled

by greed ill-begotten,hawks and hounds
abstain from smelling that,
Perfidious, venom spits venom,
your coffer is dirty and rotten,
your vault is wrong begotten.

Domestic rant.

Domestic rant.

Those elders who read line by line,
Almanac codified by eminent astrologers
protested, when I was in the threshold
of my house,to book flight tickets for
London, don’t proceed, don’t book today,
for a cat crossed across a few yards away,
the flight was safe with thumping success!

you are in U.K .O.K O.K O.K.
is it raining there? Some good Samaritan
from afar, seemingly raved over the phone,
don’t start from the house for U.S visa,
when it starts raining , it is not good augury,
you will end up in a pizza,
yet it proved to be a big bonanza.

My mind like CD rom whines,
the past when, my neighbor in India,
wished me a grand success,for flowers
came in baskets and bounteous,
for my three children stay in soil away,
your visa is sure today,
alas! It was denied for the day,

me thought they had a fear
I would settle in foreign clay.

Blind man's buff

Blind man’s buff.
When I was ten, I played blind man’s buff,
A self inflicted loss, a game of ten,
blind to the sequel, blind to everything,
though only transient, me thought,
we played and laughed, we clapped,
and trapped, lost and won,
Jubilation as if crowns and kingdoms
were got, riches and spoils donned,

My past rotates in the wheel chair,
Wheeling me into the corridors
Of the hospital, consciousness forsook
Me, beneath the anesthetist,
Lights focused on my face,
I was placed on the clean linen bed,
Incision on the right stomach,
for the wrong diagnosis,

then too, blind and unaware
to surroundings.
My eyes are closed, now, me
on the reclining sofa,
yet bruised feelings awake
to perjury, deception, fraud,
still , blind to growing shams
that creep around.

A Gift For All Times.

A Gift for all times
What You blessed and gave me was not
a parrot green colored sari, glittering,
not a designer silk, nor costly Banaras
to add one more to my overflowing
wardrobe, fresh in warp and weft,

It wasn’t either turquoise ring,
nor oystered pearls beaded in strings,
shimmering diamond studs figure not,
nor the gold coins in big bowls jingling,
not even burnished gold chains brimming,

it stems free ,bounteous and benign,
sanguine and salutary as Heaven’s
ever widening door as of a Banyan tree,
the visible roots hang before me,
It is the much needed, extended Hands

of Protection and assurance,
of rocky stand, for me to fall back upon,
Darkness recedes, diabolic Devil shrinks
thanks to your holistic vision,
sudden pale of gloom and fear,

engulf me, me decked in platinum
and diamond, demurred and reviled,
demoralizing bereft of free conscience,
solatitum denied, would I dare the world?
Supremacy’s ever seeing eyes on me,

The bounteous and all time gift,
His assured contact, a boon.

I am doing, doing, doing.

I am doing, doing, doing.

I am doing, doing, doing.
I am doing, doing, what those
witches and wizards
cannot succeed in doing,
purblind passivity prevails.


I am pawned by this wicked world,
What is happening is a conundrum,
or His time honored scheme, know not,
Suffering is part of His doing,
Struggle and submit, alone His doing.

The chicken hung in the marketplace,
as if in a haberdasher,
colorful, yet caught in a canine trap,
soon to be disheveled, torn asunder,
their doing, doing, these en masse dying,


I am dying of envy of those
Flamingoes wading,
Suffering and submitting,
A doing of HIS.
Enjambment continues.

'semi-naked' reflections

‘Semi-naked’ reflection in the mirror.


The newly installed German cut mirror,
square and glossy goes up and down
like a wary watchman relentless,
and Rhadamantine judge, in the
often, power blocked Lift,


I see my face, a prominent mole
below the right cheek reflected ,
shining with my garnet earring,
a birth mark for the ration card
or election Id to be photographed,

The usual, habitual buzz,
the lift comes to a halt,
imagination stretches far beyond:
I am in the London tube,
reading Sylvia Plath,

the pages of Emily Dickenson flutter,
the intercity express passes through
Rugby, Arnold is reborn:
It is slowly lifting me up,
the lift is coming down,

Yet another reflection of the tribal
woman, in tattoos, breast feeding
her new born, a bamboo basket
on her head, the picture too
fritters in the fast rotating fan.

FEAST

Feast

Today I have full round of feast,
sounds and drumbeat for those
who don’t love music,

for me, nostalgia rivets
Music and melody and memory
steeped in glittering vibrations,

of compact discs,
vibrancy rotates in notes and nodes,
voices envisioned to a dim past,

The egg omelets slip off my plates,
jerking at my jauntiness,
my three year old playing ping-pong

weaves a rhythm to the tune,
toast to the drum beat,
disc lost in enchantment, winds.

Walking and walking

Walking and walking---
You and I are walking and walking,
walking along the just getting dried up
Soil from the recent rains,
See a parrot sitting and pecking
On the rosy buttons of the mackintosh
hung on the water dripping branches,

I am Penelope weaving and unweaving in
Mind’s eye many tales of injustice
distraught and mystified,
The Jupiter in you wondering at the
Universal laws guarding us, we the believing,
Most of us misreading, soon to be in mishap,

The young girl picking up the
Gooseberry, chuckles, for her gooseberry
is the only matter,
I hear London’s Big Ben chiming,
Poetry takes as many rounds on
The wheels of London Eye,


We float in the dream,
The halo of Madonna
and the Buddha under the tree,
encircles and glimmers,
you and I are walking and walking,
you and I are walking and walking.

Thanking the Devil

Thanking the Devil
You and I are crossing and counting
the upturned slabs of the precincts of
the temple with the ruling deities,
the cracks in the redbrick peeping walls,
unwiped, augmented saffron marks,
bespeak of the decor and devotion,
in the ageless, uncared construction,
our visits are a daily routine and ritual,
immersed in the sacred waters of
unstinted faith and devotion,
stabbing enemies are stabbing and stabbing
at the back, smiling smiling,
the ultimate mounting mysteries
Unraveled, unlocked,
Allahuddin’s lamp glows, in the
Surrounding dark.
How often we crossed the long ropes
Carefully fearing to be snakes,
We thank the harrowing devils
for making us cling to God.

I desire not the forbidden

I Desire not the forbidden.

Calling! Calling bird’s melody in my garden
echoes in my ears: no midnight, no morn,
some unreasoning, irrational call it a cacophony,
my somnambulist child stares and smiles,
I pick out the apple from the refrigerator,
the cute apple of my palm size,
place it on the flowery bowl on
the rosewood, oblong table .
like humans , the appeals too need the
warmth and hug;
the sharp knife with the shimmer,
goes berserk, slices it into two,
half rotten, half ripened,
I still bite and chew the ripened,
to know what it is to be hungry,
I desire NOT the forbidden,
I desire NOT the forbidden.