Surprise

 

Most of the time my thoughts,

largely black

in their forehead, crown and throat,

save the grey nape and breast,

caw vehemently

over carrions

of day to day life-

am I not surprised

when they are no more the crows

they are-

but asian paradise flycatchers-

with milky plumage all over-

with a glossy, navy blue crown-

majestic-

their throat holding a sweet note-

speckling my glowing inner sky

with their angelic flight-

 

Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Surprise @ Poets United

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Let Them Pass Away

 

dying diseased words

gasp-

the scaly, slippery beings-

how they are

bereft of that golden sheen-

bred in cramped quarters

of cliché ,

exaggeration,

untruth,

they can no longer take in

the stress

of being hyper active-

how hard it is

for one

to let go of their pet words-

 

 

Posted for Poetry Pantry 431@ Poets United

A Prayer for myself

 

How can this mind of mine

so full of worldly delights

taste divine bliss

of thy name?

Neither had I left everything

nor had I followed thou-

how can I taste divine bliss

of thy name?

Let this mind be a lotus leaf

shaking off the last droplet of worldliness

and taste the divine bliss

of thy name.

May this mind of mine

only seek holy company, solitude and thou-

just to taste the divine bliss

of thy name.

O my mind

be restless and be intoxicated

with the divine bliss

of His name.

 

Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Prayer @ Poets United

Ode to Age

It’s a velvet bed of grass

slowly morphing into a gravel path-

it’s a bird-call;

a forest trail, thorny;

fiery to burn your feet;

it’s when the heart sprouts wings

into unknown skies-

in a trice, as it were

the journey’s almost done-

winged heart alights

and shuffles along its precarious perch

on the rugged cliff of time-

and folding the wings it drinks to its fill

the heavenly twilight-

all the while

watching evening eddies

spreading into night-

 

Posted for my prompt Ode to Age @ Poets United Midweek Motif

Reading Fiction

 

I have seen kohl-cool clouds

hidden in between pages-

to give

a needed downpour, shower, drizzle of words

cleansing toxic, vituperative reality-

 

 

Now I am in between hard covers

being words-

flowing like the dusky Ganga of Benaras

my breath, buzzing like all the ghats*-

you read me, see my Manikarnika** being-

 

 

*riverfront

**a sacred cremation ghat

 

 

Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Reading Fiction @ Poets United

Abundance

 

It’s scary

to watch how the mind stirs

just to let out

those raging dreams

fluttering away

on their fiery wings

to feed on massed darkness-

oh please-

let me live at the feet of the blissful ones-

the Kanchenjunga, Nilkantha,

Monals, Black-Lored tits,

rhododendrons, Deodars

Yaks and Tahrs-

they are the Buddha-

I wish to live on an abundance of emptiness

to fill in each empty cell

with grace

flowing from them-

 

 

Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Abundance @ Poets United

Owl Café

 

I have only read

but never said Hello to an owl café

where you can go personal with owls-

in an almost surreal chamber filled with soft music

you could

feel their soft head,

let them perch on your shoulder or arms,

drink tranquility along with coffee-

 

 

like their wild bro or sis

they can turn their heads almost all the way round-

they are far sighted-

they have super hearing power-

they have sharp, shiny talon

they have the same velvety downs

to muffle noise

to ensure a silent flight-

 

 

What they have more is-

a name like Peanut or Butterfly or whatever

given by a human,

and a thin string tied to their feet,

and sleepy eyes,

and broken dream of wilderness-

they are in the café

to heal a stressed human heart-

 

 

(I read an article about owl cafés of Tokyo where owls are used as healing agents to save weary people from mayhem outside.)

 

Posted for my prompt ~ Owl @ Poets United Midweek Motif

What Is A Wall For

chapelroad_satishkrishnamurthy_flickr

Street Art In Chapel Road | ©SatishKrishnamurthy/Flickr

My Hibiscus plant

leans on my pink wall

and spills

orange blooms; luring the flower thief

each dawn,

when my plant is in a mood of charity-

the sky is pink in shame

so am I;

the husband’s face

is like the monster fish forever fixed

on the wall of Bandra’s Chapel Road*-

the woman is unabashed-

she has in her hand

a long stick with an iron hook

attached to its end-

she plucks my heart

with it-

the shy wall can do nothing-

 

*Chapel Road in Bandra, Mumbai is famous for its colorful street art.

 

Posted for my prompt~ The Wall @ Poets United Midweek Motif