tentacles of a tender
feel, touch, spirit
suddenly grew thorns
the sky was overcast
with the
caring clouds
and then moon was shadowed
at that moment
the tentacles
lost their purpose
could not hold
even a single ray tight
sprouts of surrenders
Shadow brown
Blossom
stains on my glasses
when a tired road started walking
and a walker got tired
when drops did not dry
but the dried surface of water in your cup got wet
storms in the cup
with left over filtered coffee
have caught up
with my dreams
busy proofreading the drafts
but not fast enough
why am i slow or
i wasnt slow enough
ah!!
so much spaces left uncovered
why does gardner mow the lawn
so smooth
why can he leave some grass uncut
his concept of work and mine are very similar
we both leave what we must not
and end up doing what others could
thank you
do thank me everytime
i clean the cups in the corridor
and bring water to wash all the stains left on my glasses
Eroded lighthouse base
Bruises need not be counted
They are not in currency any more
Who tilts which oar how much
Only a sinking boat knows
Who else
You have lost
The ability
To be surprised by the
Goodness
Of the sea in storm
Be quiet
Pay homage
To a ship
Anchoring for the moment
In betrayed waters
Torn shores
Eroded lighthouse base
was it a raindrop
a lone lily
naturally, this embrace
those moments,
fallen leaves
walk through a jungle
and then suddent sight
of an embrace, natural,
but aren’t embraces always natural
perhaps not,
when accounts are settled
then these could
only be an entry
in a double entry book
of accounts
who did what
but nothing natural
manifests then,
walk
slowly
i have told you so many times,
walk slowly
as if you really intend to catch up
no, nobody can catch up
in this walk
i have to walk alone
o, tree
did you also try to walk
in this jungle once
and then you could not leave
your shadow
thats why
this embrace
ah!
a dried leaf
A Dried leaf at my door waited in vain
for a whiff of air
that might blow it
in your hair
but then leaves are destined to decompose
unless they are saved in the intimate folds
of a book
of stories
which narrate
how in market of IOUs,
accounts of every touch, feel and smell
are displayed
may be my breaths are slow enough
to to let this leaf
lie there
for a while
till
more curses
in places of caresses pile