Ripples

A silent drop,
right center in the pond,
begins a reaction,
bothering the pond with its arrival

One swift breeze,
as she passes by,
announces her presence
as her perfume engulfs the dullness.

One swift slap,
across the pink young cheeks,
announces the distant arrival
of disrespect, and rifts

One lustful appetite,
for meat, for luxury,
announces the arrival
of Global warming and death

As we swim through our marshy lives,
battling for recognition.
battling for acceptance.
battling for fame.

We leave ripples,
enormous waves that gush ahead.
Disturbing the fabric,
of nothingness.

We leave ripples
and our decisions make or break,
Lives, visible to us.
Lives, invisible to us.

Yet, we stomp and stamp!
We put ourselves at the helm!
And do not stop once,
for some quiet, peaceful introspection.

The Lady in White

There is a quiet angel waiting in white

She watches, patiently, quietly.

A robe of pure white, she remains

Like a lotus in a sea of colours.

There is a shade of grey

It grows as we do

A simple law doesn’t exist

Ifs, buts, thens and whens do!

They take you by the scoop

And turn you upside down, face first.

There is a shade of grey.

Lingering in the background

Like your own ignored shadow

It prospers, yet stays patient

Confused - To blame, to not blame.

Thread thick pathways, tread softly

Like the cat on a wall.

There is a shade of black

Devil with horns and tail

Glowering like coal, black

looks like a condescending guard

Opens its arms wide and calls you

To fall into it, sneakingly

It doesn’t care how bad it appears

It does not matter too.

Its sanguine demeanor pulls you in.

Leaves an aftertaste that you will regret

you watch the barren tree with never flowering stems.

There is a quiet angel waiting in white

It knows what you are, what you need

What you can, what you cannot

It becomes your nagging conscience

Asking you to stop, silently pleading

Overheard, resigns with a sign, but never retires

But, It is patient, holding itself.

When all falls, it will stand tall.

A warm bed, a warm home

A tub to soothe and wash your soul

A second chance

And lets you slumber in its arms

Strokes your hair and calls in utopia

A neverland, straight, right and quiet
Thus defined, are the shades of your conscience.

What is Home?

What is Home, but an abstract sense,

Hovering like the whiff of cinnamon.

What is Home, but the ruddy anchor,

Etched in one stagnant era of time.

What is Home, but the portrait of love,

As the faces of my blood ease in to the darkness.

What is Home, but bed warmed for you

Laid out, awaiting the return of the local king,

What is Home, but memories,

Of the long lost rascal you once were.

What is Home, but the prayers and love

Bundled in the aging lips of the Queen.

As I embrace Life, Head First.

It turns and churns.

As I leave the land,

Of which I once was lord,

I reach back.

And grab the out stretched arms.

And as days wane and wax

And as ripe apples decay

As an orange crumbles in its sweetness

As dust lays down for a heavy slumber

The years grow

Feeding on life, its only fodder

For you who grabs his bags

And steps beyond the threshold,

Home is but a word

Home is but a catalyst

A bow, from whence you spring forth. 

Once gone, invisible again to its quiver.

The Wind Breaker

In an olden Castle so green,

Lived and ruled, a Mighty Queen.

Royal was the word, O so preen!

Her lands reached far away.

Justice she dealt, day by day.

There naught was any spark nor fray.

Though softly a secret she kept.

And quietly her husband wept.

Every night in tremors he slept.

For was she, a wind breaker.

So? Is it a deal breaker?

Yes, indeed, a nasty smell maker.

T’was eve one day.

Crowd slowly ebbing away.

Thus happened an unexpected foray

Tired, exhausted with the day’s tackle,

She let off a sweet cackle,

A nasty, smelly, loud cull.

Oh around and about, they veered.       

T’was the Queen, O, they feared!

Yet, shy, indifferent they appeared.

The Queen, Now aghast,

Her manners now, dripping fast,

Picked cheeky Arthur now, as her outcast.

“Come now Arthur”, said she, “Hey!”

“Stop That, Right away!”

“Yes, M’lady”, Asked he, “Where did it go, which way?”

Patience Man!

Patience degrades like a sugar cube,

Grain by grain.

Weary ants eat it up!

Patience stands like a skin strand;

Near the nail, ripe with pain, waiting.

Curiosity pulls it out!

Patience is a virtue.

Patience is blatant!

Patience is a skyscraper;

Several floors of perfection.

Coming down with a plane crash!

Patience is a whistle blower.

You hate him, You curse him.

Attention? You are jealous of him!

Patience is a virtue.

Patience is impatient!

Patience is a DVD player.

Who the hell needs it anyway!

Lost and found, nevertheless sound.

Patience is a daft of cream.

False layer, false wall.

Crumbles down, like Berlin wall!

Patience is a spectator’s sport.

Smile, cheer and wave,

As the better things walk!

Patience is a time bomb,

Tick Tock Tick Tock

Tick To.....Boom!!

O Wonder!

O Wonder, O Wonder,

O Joyous Wonder,

How come your eyes slip into my memory;

Like dew drops from a leaf

How come your beats sync with mine,

Like the chirp of every bird with the flowing air.

Stop in your tracks, you make me smile,

Run along, you make me aspire

Never does a moment tire, never does a fun wither

As you chide the darkness of life with a sly tap

O Wonder, O Wonder,

O Joyous Wonder,

How come your eyes run far and wide

Like a kid caught stealing toffee.

How come your tip toe slaps mischief,

Like the patting of one’s sweet pet.

The years chew your innocence

Like detergent over oil and color

Bit by bit, wash by wash

And somehow, it loses aging.

O Wonder, O Wonder,

O Joyous Wonder,

Is it because we share blood

Is it because we share homes

Or is it simply because you make us relive!

Relive those cheeky years gone yonder.

War and Peace

A reddish orange glow skimmed over the surface,

A tinge of green between interspaced.

Smooth frothy waves flew off the surface like a disturbed jelly.

It was signs of an evening sea.

A shade of darkness followed the setting sun.

And subduing to its heaviness, the

sun took its daily dip in the sea.

The sailor watched life going about in circles.

End of a phase, start of another.

The winged fliers, of colors many

That frequent the huge canvas above

Hadn't visited the spectating sailor today

He wondered where they went

The sea in front was at peace.

The lights behind him were loud.

Killing all peace of the art before him.

The Great Warship steered through the silent night.

Awaiting an impending war.

A lot of activity on deck,

white clothed, star marked sailors ran

around, carrying a sense of excitement.

The usual star blanketed sky

Was stabbed by colors of green, red and blue

And of smoke screens toxic.

The sea looked calm and pale,

Silently praying that the war

on its womb would pass,

with not much death of its

Scaled and finned inhabitants.

There was soft and distant muffling of sounds

beneath the green carpet muffled by

the loud bombs behind the sailor.

He reckoned it was the fishes

now weeping. Yearning the loss

Of their loved ones.

And then he realised!

How the sea was always

salty and teary.

Sky, Sea or Land!

A warzone choose.

Man loves himself so much,

that all these bounties are

worth less than his pride.

`Quicker than a wink of an eye,

can he give away all these.

Live now and regret later.

Alas, the pain is passed on, not experienced!