My road to the past

is not yet blocked

so reminiscing feels

like a walk into a mansion

with countless rooms;

through their casement

streaming sunlight warms

my chilled bones.

Each grass blade of a day

in the luxurious sprawling lawn,

each bloom,

is so familiar.

I love to wrap me up

with the tapestry of the night

woven with silver and diamond;

warm, fragrant, breezy and safe.

I long for them and do have them

in my heart core

for the path is not yet blocked,

there’s still the scent of light

though I hear

a hoot or two of forgetfulness

in ruffled feathers

the twilight sky is spotted

with a bat or a star

to remind me of the approaching dark.






Posted for Sumana’s Midweek Motif ~ Nostalgia @ Poets United



A Suburban Poem

I count my blessings

as I watch the bulbul swinging

from a twig

letting its joy out

in sharp twittering song.

In a time

when eternal hunger

of the lowly humans 

lap up ponds, trees and lands

why this mango grove is spared

along with a few others

I wonder.

The spiffy squirrel

scurrying up

the tall slender palm

beside the pond,

where in the night

fishes play with the moon

in rippling water,

and prefer depth in day

to keep the herons

and kingfishers at bay,

almost picked a quarrel

with a red capped woodpecker

the other day.

The trees conspire

With their blooms

to trap the bumblebees.

I am the lone watcher.

I do count my blessings

for such godly sights

even these days.


Posted for Poetics – suburb poetry over @ dVerse