haiku

 Low  Tide  or  High Tide

 After   a  day’s  toil   and    sweat

 Family   thrills   for a   sea   resort:

 Imprints  of footsteps of tender

Kids, the  drawing  mode of  hands,

 Supple  on  the  sands , life’s jigsaw puzzle,

Tall  flats  - benefactor  to  the  residents

For  the free, cool  breeze through  the

frilled  windows:  a   sanguine   therapy.

We  all  enjoy  the   Blue,  gyrating  waves,

Whether   Low or   High  Tide, sing  along

And   sway with  the swaying moods.

Seas  don’t  sleep .

 Pebbles,  seagulls   and  stork  -  a 

Delectable  feast -  pabulum  for  the  yearning  spirit.

Memories    and  dreams   and  forgotten 

Tales catch us  up –timely rejoinder.

 Lonely  harbour   and   frightful  shore

In the  dead  of night,  dreadful   monsters

A   retribution .

We  all  return  with  the  questioning  

Strange  silence – isn’t  it  one  of  the

Wonders of  the   Creation?

haiku

   motorway

tradition   merging   with  

the  present

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cherry pink  shines

my  gown  fritters  along  

free  path

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smoky   cloud

artist  logs into  his  book

a cave to hide in

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air  breathes

the void in the desert

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1) brass  burners emit

 freaks of outbursts-

 you   rest  awhile

2) bold  move in mid air

  She axes  him down

 3) She  shed  blood

 bloody racism

  trust belied

   4) embers  not in

       the  burners-

         bouts in her palm

5)      her sacrifice

    each  brick  in the wall

          my pain

haiku

    blooming  rose buds

  they   swing  on   her  early

   days of  charity

    

island theme haiku

   cactus in  island

   feeds  on  some  water

     a  pride 

SEA

     Sea

Whether   a   promenade  or  beach  resort

 or   balcony  view, cool  breeze coming  from,

a  static    philosophy   or   dawn of  wisdom   springs:

Life   turns   itself   or  falls  back.

The  dark   ocean  with  deep  abysmal  caves,

Gyrating  waves   of   threat  -  wonder working

Inculcate  a    permanent   trigger of  fear,

Equally  a  message   alike: ‘our surface

Mother  ocean, your   often visit  spot,

Pleasure  resort  of  beach  and   pebbles,

 Children’s  play  area   -are  only  transient,

Unreachable    breathless   deep – like  the

Roots  of our  living  origin   takes  us  or

Turns  us  to our  lineage. We  have to   be

 back  where  we  come  from.’

Crow s  and   banyan  trees   and    parrots

Repeat  cries   solace  us  but  yet  within,

The  Message  keeps   gyrating :  yet

Great   and lucky  are   those  who  live

with   this  universal philosophy.

From  my  Dream  world , let me be

Back  to  writing  desk of  plethora

Of  images   and   visions.

international woman's day - be bold for a change

      Be  bold   for a  change 

   Creatively positive
   taking you into dizzy heights
   unalloyed  and  unchecked
    bringing  good  and  prosperity
    for   one   and all 

haiku

that moment

tattered   gown  shines   on

she  dwells  in  pride

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inside  the  hut

silent corners

poetry is born

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 by the lake

 scarf  of  lady bird

 yearns  quite

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 in the   bunch of  thread

 spinning    her  endless  yarn

 her strength

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        spring  joy

tulip buds  clip  and  sweep

 barren show

Humans , where can we go?

Humans ,where  can we go?

 Wide  opened   windows  let  air in.

There   are  sensible  and  have  a   stay

In their adaptability  and  move ;

 Spiders  and   lizards  have  free play

on the  roof, unencumbered   freedom

and ply; touch  and go  cobwebs ,sticky

lizards  hang on. We tolerate  their

impeccable loyalty. Up  they are, we

don’t  care   oftener. Once  they  intrude

 kitchen cupboards,corners,inside  rooms

and  clustered   books  and  in  between

tables, utensils with  left over,  we mind

and   dispel away.

 Pet parrots  we have pampered ,though

Caged, spoke  with  endearing  language.

Reared  faithful dogs   and   stroke the

Head of   beloved cat and kitten.Yet

They  have freedom  to go anywhere

O f their choice. Ponds  and borrows

Fields   and free open spaces – are

Your ever ready welcome kit.

We  the  tenants ,where  can we go?

Once the landlord gives notice?

haiku

much splash of soap
mirror grins
I am not  terror

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  plucking  rose  from  plant

   feels  loosing  self-                                                                                                          

    her   breathing

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Summer  eve

mould in sand   dunes

her    dream castle

    pebbles 

uncaring   though

ageless  settlement

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gliding  snake- threat of  the past curse-wake up 

Dead poet's soceity

In the beginning is my end,
in the end is my beginning.
All Knowing knows and proceeds
With the unique gift of Creation.
How well you carve and care
How best you strive to excel,
How harmless you are,
How caring and concerned
 For the docile and weak,
How pious and precious
Your attitude to the society
and the self - are ordained
and paid and repaid in the
same coin of mutual bind.
This life boat has to sail,
It has to have a smooth sail:
for this boatman and
Oars and clear water and
Cool ambience - must
Comprising the humans
 and Ourselves; God is
the Watcher and Waiter.
In my beginning is my end
In my end is my beginning.

#beginning

chameleons feed on light air ( Guardian)

Chameleons   feed  on light  air  ( Guardian)

  Why  this  special  quality  and  care?

  We all but  occasionally  wonder,

  Chameleons   feed  on light  air ,

  We the poets   and   humans  thrive

 On  Muse  and the position

of  Zodiac  Stars  on the move.

Chameleons   change in light  and  air,

 humans  also  Change in life  and times

of  strife   and  duress; but  not  all.

Humans   change  but  not all poets

For  the  Muse is their dictum  and God.

Poets  have no time  to change

In this    maudlin  changing  world,

If  ever  change  comes  their  way,

It is only  in their  poetic   voyage

Of  free  passport  and write.

haiku

           it   flows

flawless   by  the river/

  serene

 this  shine on

the   nail- unhealthy

  show

musings -Odyssey

Musings

1 wand   journey’s  hand

Bitter  through –better

a   lesson

2) you  see   your  own   world 

kids paradise –play and clap

 long memory stays

3) she  abhors this  world

 sunrise  and sunset  - child of

 a    somnambulism

  4) flora  and  fauna

 God’s  plenty  -you see  bounty

  Unrequited  love

5)  back pack – snack  and   books

 Pride  and  burden she carries

Everyday ordeal

6) The  kitchen  cupboard 

 jingling  with mice   -up   and down

  superheroes ‘ right

7) butterfly zooms   out

 mercurial flap –flip  -a

 music bonanza

haiku

  cradle  scheme

many   more    in the dustbin.

micro poem --- Her first day in school

Child’s first  day  school        (micro poem)

eyes    emit  fear  of kneel down

 brother’s  experience.

haiku

 bloodless    seeds of

Pomegranate  see no  hands-

 alone   in the  dish

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Retina  problem

 thank  heavens

 Curtain  is drawn  

  Senryu

  wedding

plantain  leaf  overflows

  ghee  in trash

     summer   breeze

     crows   see –saw

     on  the   branch  

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   Clan  in  clear  waters

     phonetics on  move.

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        Escalator

walking  down the steps

 post modern step

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   cathedral sombre

  they do  their  own way

   I can only watch

Take on 'Bury Me in a Free Land'( Guardian)

Take  on ‘Bury Me In A Free Land” ( Guardian)

Show  me   a  place  or corner

Under  this gubernatorial  Sun

Where   unalloyed  Freedom 

Of  care   and   concern

Encompass   humanity

Struggling   for survival.

Make  me  a  grave  though,

 This   topic   is not of  primary

Concern  now ; Whether Native or

alien,  local  or   foreign,  dignity

and  respect  prevail, be  the

predominating   spirits  there.

Surrounding   humanity  ever

and anon tend to care. Make me

a  grave  in a  land  where tender

newborn  and  children  are safe;

Not   kidnapped  for money  and

Mean  gain   or  ulterior  motive.

A   land  where   hunger  squalid 

and uncouth, bins  of  garbage

line up,  land of corruption

money laundering  I abhor.

A land of God’s plenty and  nourish.
I worship  and loyal  to  such a  soil.

  All said  and done,  design  me 

A grave in tune  with  His Design,

Where my MENTOR touches 

and  performs  my last Rites

carving  me for  Next Birth.  

  

I am not a withering leaf anymore

 I  am  a  withering  leaf

 Me thought

I   am a   withering   leaf ,

floating  on the oily water,

chlorophyll  already   deserting:

lines   criss cross sustain  me

to  the  stemmed plant .

 Lengthy   stalk  and  stem,

 cute   buds, fragranced   blossoms ,

 pecks   and  pots and pails  of water

flow  to the rim of  the  brim

of  leafage. Still I am inconsolable;

early  birds   call, close by

chirp  and  sing, as  if  knit

Ode   to  God  and  Nature,

sit   and  serenade-  a see-saw.

I  lose my  shade.

Near  to  yellow, yearn  for 

The  preservation  of  Green:

Every bud, every  offspring

A delectable  bonanza, amidst

The  tiny   gregarious  leaflets.

Sudden drop of  Mercy from

Above,  a huggie   from  a

  good Samaritan:  to   undo

the withering :  No, no, I am

not  a withering    leaf anymore.

  

We all twine around this Hope

We  all twine  around   this  Hope

  Hope   is  a  tiny,  growing   plant

 Stemming  out  between two  rocky  stones

of  despair  and  almost a  feel of null:

 Hoping  to survive   amidst  blowing  winds  

 Hoping  to serenade   and  sing           

 defeating   the  ghost like anti - songs

domineering   forest  and   bush thick,

 thickets   and   thimbles:

 a  soft  melody  passing  through

the brambles   and  lute’s corner.

 The  unequalled  glory    and 

 Hope will garland you in earnest.

haiku

         in the  angler

       no  fish   but   my  hair pin

 

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 skipping  rod

her exercise  up   and down

   to  and  fro

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   each   corner

prefers  to be  the same-

brushes  the   broom.

 

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      twitter  in  dawn

   Vedic  chanting   nearby

      eyes  slowly open

 

haiku university page

1) fold  the  umbrella

of  life on  the  mountain

 dizzy  pathway

2) stormy  blow

  by the  hill –next step

  is  not  sure.

3)   thistle  slanting

on the mountain- gloats

 I  am  safe  here

  

4) stop  by  the brook

brooding  the  fin less, fish-

 fly  a  wonderment

5)  from   front to  end

   river’s color- transparent-

    see my  shadow