Tsunami

A placid lake
calm, serene.
De-stress.
Throw your worries in.
Walk away free.

Deep below,
earth and water tensions
ripple thru
unseen,
carving deep gashes
into deeper wounds.

Will release come?
I stand still,
reflecting scenery,
waiting for my tsunami.

Little Rosebud

Twig broken spirit,
leaves drooping depressed.
Little rosebud
contemplating suicide.
Fresh and cool raindrops
wash clean and green.
Kindness binds
and straightens
Life flows.
Little rosebud
contemplating bloom.
A smile in itself
and a smile for all
who see.

Mangled Beauty

She is a mangled beauty.
Perfect eyes and lips,
torn soul and heart.
Mask entangled in her skin.

Luxuriant mane
cascading over tortuous scars.
Brilliant smile drawn
over soundless screams.
Smooth and luscious body
nestling a deep-searing,
writhing rage.

Admiration is a distant candle,
she seeks the warmth of healing within.

Painless

I don't feel pain anymore.
My doors are closed
and the sound of Feeling
raining outside
is faint.
One by one, Darkness downs my shutters
And cobwebs hang motionless
in my soul.
A house forgotten, soon ignored.

Unspoken

Unspoken words choke me.
Unshed tears flood me.
Silent and strong,
that's how I want to be.
But in my mind,
I am screaming,
I am sobbing.
My mind is what I am,
and
what I want to be.

Lakshmi: Ode to my childhood maid

She lurks around in many childhood memories.
A familiar figure - now long gone.
She didn't stay to see where our paths would lead,
but she was there on the day we were born.

Her sun-roasted skin was a leathery black.
Her rhuemy eyes attracted flies.
Her glistening tears nestled diamond-like
in the black velvet folds around her eyes.

I remember those tears, like the gloom of the storm
on the day we moved, when we left her.
I remember those tears, like a sun-kissed shower
on the wedding day of my sister.

What dreams did she hug to her cough-wracked chest
as she hunched in the warmth of the sun?
Battered and bruised in the battles of life -
did she know there was one she had won?

She was Lakshmi indeed - the goddess of wealth.
Her wealth was love, which she gave us.
She was rich in a land of immense poverty.
We were her servants, not she ours!

The Middle Path

Carefully I tread,
lest one sharp pebble
pierce through
my travel-weary feet.

I look ahead to map
the turns and twists,
the choices to make,
against my
inner positioning system.

I stream
around the boulders,
and flow over the rocks,
gently gurgling over
pretty flowers that line
my way.

No floods, no furies,
no raging tempests.
A few rainy days,
knowing the sun will shine again.

Down in the murky depths,
a tiny whirlpool
swirls in
mad, unrestrained passion,
questioning such serenity.

Waiting

She was shy, and he was strong.
She could not meet his eyes.
Her heart was beating to a song,
which came as no surprise.
Deep down, she felt it was so right.
It was first love, at first sight.

The seed which had taken root
blossomed over the days.
The tantalising, tempting fruit
promised with its taste.
A flower in bloom, and as lovely,
she waited for him patiently.

The honey-bee didn't seem to care.
She wasn't amongst the chosen.
Her pain was more than she could bear
with stolen thoughts, unspoken.
She watched him, yearning from afar.
Despairing every lonely hour.

Time passes by, now fast, now slow.
She still stands all alone.
She has no other place to go,
Broken and forlorn.
Dreams of his loving embrace,
Are now her only sad solace.

Insomnia

night owl, eyes unblinking
the darkness is full of light
the silence is full of sounds
the snores, the fan, the clock, the fridge
waiting, waiting....
a car door slams awake creeping slumber
alert and watchful i lie
yet, when the moment comes
i will not be there.

Sleep, my child

Thumb between softly opened lips,
pink as rosebuds shyly blooming.
Bright eyes dimmed by the veil of slumber,
the curtains draw on a busy day of curious play.
Dreams beckon and angels sigh.
Sleep, my child, in innocent bliss.
I seal my love with a tender kiss.

Haikus

Slumber becomes her
Winged eyelashes casting
light tasseled shadows

The phone rings sharply
Cutting the silence to shreds
Tatters scatter, shocked.

Stoic suffering
smashes into my window.
A coin soothes guilt.

The Kiss of the Crab

The ultimate betrayal.
Corrupt DNA
licensing the creation
of slums
when old buildings
are not yet crumbling.
Chemical warfare
affects not
the roaches lurking,
waiting, for the right moment...
The landscape is bleak,
where pain rises and sets,
clouding over
denuded forests of joy.
And when the earth
stops turning,
peace tranquilizes.


*Dedicated to a friend who died painfully of cancer

Old Friend

Spiders have befriended you,
and clothed you with their finest spin.
So regal and serene in the throne of dust,
do I dare disturb the peace?
And yet, my hands are restless
to uncover your million secrets.
To look in your heart and sigh with pleasure
marvelling at the dreams and the desires,
soaring with the joys and drowning in the sorrows,
astonished by what you spring at every twist and turn.
Trembling in my anticipation,
I inhale the sweetest perfume of all.
A musty book is heaven.

You Have Changed

You have changed.
I can see it in the gentleness of your touch.
The tenderness of your smile.
The love in your heart swells and
drops from your eye,
Quickly, you brush this diamond away.
In that you have not changed.
You have changed.
It’s in the little thoughtful things you do.
It’s in your red, sleepless eyes
at three in the morning.
You cannot conceal your pride
when our baby smiles up at you, her father.
In that you have not changed.

Change of Mind

Death sits on my shoulder
His smile is wry, and his eyes are tired.
He has nowhere to go, and nothing to do,
except wait.
Life hovers on my other shoulder,
worried and frail,
flitting on the wings of resignation and defeat.
Death opens his arms,
and I lay down my weary head
in the comforting darkness for a brief moment.
Life is wringing her hands,
shaking her head, distressed and hurt.
Death whispers in a hushed tone,
soothing my tumult, my eyes drooping in sleep.
Life shrieks a banshee wail,
darting hither and thither, distraught and desperate.
Death smiles as I rise,
and slowly fades away into the distance
as I gently catch Life in my hands,
and hug her to my bosom.
No backward glances, only a silent gratitude.
Death brings Life to me again.

Lost Nights

Do you remember the night
when you showed me the stars in the night sky,
and I found my own sun
shining in your eyes?
Do you remember the night
when you held me close in the cold,
and I discovered the fire
which warmed my soul?
Do you remember the night
when we talked so long into the wee hours,
and the shower of your words
caressed me like flowers?
Time is a thief, stealing all that is gold.
I stand naked now, bereft of your embrace.
I yearn for your touch, your whisper in my ear.
I yearn for the comfort of your face.

Forever Closed

You didn’t know it, and I didn’t know it too.
We were butterflies sipping the nectars of life.
The whole garden lay before us, beckoning,
tempting, alluring, in colorful abandon.
How strange it is that where so many abound,
only one unknowingly has the key to your lock.
And how strange it is that where so many abound,
You know not whose lock you can open.
Blinded by the sights, the sounds, the smells,
We kept looking and looking, but never saw.
You are still seeking the key to your lock,
but I sit here, alone in the darkness of my knowledge.
My heart will never be opened

Autumn of Joy

Happiness is always brief
like these golden leaves all ablaze.
The warmth of excitement blushing in their hues.
Their glorious vermilion tongues of fire
leaping into the crisp and clear blues,
stoking the passion of the sun's kisses.
Savor the contented tranquility of happiness
while you can.
Savor the dizzying exhilaration of atoms colliding
in your adrenalin.
Let the fragrance of the moment be pressed and
dried in your pages of memory.
Frame the walls of your soul with the snapshots
of your courtship.
Close your eyes and feel it....
Feel it, as they float into the brown depths.
Slowly letting the colors of their joy settle down into the earth.

Home-Sick

It would be blasphemy to say this, but it’s true.
I hated mangos.
The little white blossoms, the tender red leaves,
all nurtured with my loathing,
matured into taunting and tantalising kings.
The ripe succulence struck terror in my little heart.
The heavenly smell made me nauseous with fear.
The rich juice running down my hand
bore testimony to my inept existence,
while my cousins laughed scornfully
and boldly sucked out the flesh of the fruit,
with ne’er so much as a drop of its blood.
Their jeers have faded,
and the plump, polished mangoes I see now,
in this plump, polished land so far away,
not clothed in shabby straws, with the raw earthy fragrance,
my heart echoes with an emptiness
that aches for the sniggers and the derisive laughter.

Like Water

Colourless, odourless,
transparent chameleon.
Changing contours,
slipping surreptiously
into everything.
Invisibly there.

Not precious,
not indispensable.
The fly on the wall.
That's me.