your paintings

unless i get old
you can’t get young
what a paradox
but if this is the a price
for accessing the gallery of your paintings
healthy walk
along the lake
then so it be


Like a sea weed
Floating on the surface
Of deep water
I have
How beluga whale
Lives through the arctic water
Cold water
Warm company
Paradoxes of parity

Tainted glass

When you spoke harsh
I kept quiet
But when you are amiable
I will stay quiet
All the years
Of silence must be reckoned
We are unable to
Keep track of time
And tainted
Behind which you used to hide
When in pain

Will stay still

Dont touch me
Said the river
I will stay still
And then river wouldn’t be there
I stopped short
Banks were broken
River was in flood
But now
It was my turn
To stay still

And roses on the highway

He is a good boy
And at times
He is a very good boy
He will not care for any courtesy
Why hang it on your window
You have the courage to make love in the open
That’s how
He defines life
Unmindful of any rules
That come in the way
Of growing cacti
In the garden
Or flowers on the road
He is a very good boy
He is not sure
He has a heart
That is very pure
Never would wish
Bad to any one
But his mind
Weaves a carpet of threads
That are unhinged from long past
But threads of a past
Some real
Some fake
He is
a very good boy
He loves his ma
Like no one would ever do
After a long time
He has begun
To dig the nursery
To sow the seedlings
And tulips
Will he grow tulip
On the traffic lighting don’t know
Time will show
He is concerned
About the woes of the world
He cares too much
For the authentic witness
Of the judgment
That will be passed every day
And was passed earlier too
When he threw away the
Frisbee in the bush
And hid the jewels behind the cupboard
It didnt matter
What was done
It didn’t matter what was said
It didn’t matter what was lost
It didn’t matter
Who was hurt
He moved on
But didn’t
He comes back again and again
To that self
When he wrote a book
Blaming someone
Whose love he didn’t understand
But that is ok
He is a very good boy
A Very good boy
No matter
How does he get entangled
In politics of whose unsettled battles
He is wasted sometimes a bit by bit
But he can regrow
Every cell of the tissue
Like menopausal blood
Of his mother
He loves regrowth
No matter of cacti in garden
And roses on the highway
He does not care
Cars burying the petals don’t scare
He is a brave boy
He is a very good boy