Showing posts from November, 2015

vignettes of winter

winter has its own vignettes,
pickle jars and pigeons on terrace,badminton courts, racquets,
pullovers, quilts and jackets,cartwheels, bakery, yeast,
people having a grand feast,son et luminere, Dominique,
festival of flicks, bearded critic,fairs, handloom and crafts,
Samuel Beckett and Jean Paul Sarte,cakes, toffees, regatta, jazz,
a session of poetry, Octavio Paz,conclaves, picnics, Jacobean lit,
misty mornings, sparrows on streets,dews on glasses, on lawns, windshields,
mild nip in the air and lemon peels,freckled skin, dry and withered leaves,
moisturizers and northern breeze.

literary beings,

if you implore I can talk
not of that kind of love,
where we would become streets and lanes,
crossing each other like a tedious argument,
instead let me recite that love song
where tears of human race belong,
and human happiness too -
in finding Galapagos island;and you will refer to Lazarus,
as your source of inspiration,
someone who can turn you to Epiphany,
you will talk of that occurance at Bethany,from there you would begin perhaps
your writing of a poetic fiction, a verse,
you would say that was all you wanted to write,
you would talk of sobs that made watermarks on your pillow,
and I would say, people just come and go,
you would ask if they were like Michelangelo;then there would be a pause,
you would try to find a cause,
and put it into a way to make
your statement of saying nothing,
your dearest possession, a stream,
that had rolled down the hills
and mountains to the plains,
your lyrical offering, to all who disdain
kindness and human oaths,
you would sing, love in your thro…

Dubliners, a leitmotif

IIt would have been perhaps
that part of a dusk
taken like a leaf out
from that vivid 'Dubliners',                    IIthere were no memoirs Irish
no forms of imperial gossip,
eastern guards they were not there,                    IIIonly it seemed as it were
to say something
for some people to hear,
and for someone to let out
all that were kept like doubts,                    IVa lot can happen over talks,
wars, and our pieces too
broken and missed up cues,
bread, spinach green,
cold coffee , strawberry cream,                         Veverything just over talks,
talks peppered with mustard sauce,
and forks resting beside knives,
cutlery exotic, plastic swipes,                          VIand then posters hanging on the wall
Stephen there about to weep for a girl,
a little flower claiming possibility
in crystal vase, stored for antiquity,                          VIIhave they all become metropolitan?
smart, clicking heels, stamping boots,
crumpled scrolls…

the family photograph

'say cheese!' the man behind the lens
asked the assembly to flash grins,
and all of them did so in the sense
they tried their respective best,the grandpa in the middle had no teeth
so he flashed his gums vacant and still,
granny beside him took a breath
and so her face looked a bit grave,and the eldest son having arthritis
shook his right knee by his hand to ease
the standing posture,his wife beside him
was thinking about the chilli paste left
in the sink, her face had that hurried look,their son back from college had a book
in his hand which he was not willing to keep
anywhere lest his younger sis would take a leap
for it and would take it away with her to Jersey,the second eldest son, still a bachelor,a musician
was probably thinking the middle portion
of a song which he downloaded courtesy
the electronic device that he possessed recently,
so his face looked composed and calm,just beside him his niece returning from Greece,
held an artefact resembling a bow with strings,