Showing posts with label This Circle of Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label This Circle of Life. Show all posts

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Beauty

It’s a craterly moon
That gets up at night
Puts on some light BB
And steps out for you.

No luminous skin
Just some BB cream
That lasts through
The entire day

With kissable lips
From Maybelline
With dark eyes
From the same

It was a fool heart
That knew no joys
That put on all this
To walk around happy

There was no bloodsign
Of joy and desire
Only a broken heart
But only sore words.

But time healed words
And the moon steps
Bright and clear
For all eyes to see.

It’s just layers of paint
Painstakingly done
From BB, CC and DD
Not what you think

You are late my dear
As always to reach
For a craterly moon
Belongs to the sonne.

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Night Fears


A dark curtain of a night fell from across the river green
With huge trees that looked like demons to a five year old.
Then almost twenty years later they came back as crossroads
And having to face the worst possible mistake in life.

The nights that followed were all full of fears of future,
Till you came with your music and took them all away;
But now that you are also gone, the fears are back
The intense loneliness and the few words once again.

You with your music could sweep all those fears away,
You with your love could erase the fears from the years
Yet you have made the night bleaker and darker,
Wringing away the life that throbbed in these bone cavities.

The nights of unknown fears of future were much better
Than these nights of fearful knowledge of separation. 

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Dying Young

It was always there in me, this thought of dying young.
The tales of talented youth dying much before
They found no use for  their eager dreams,
Kindled a desire of blazing out like a forest fire.

The ones who had done so were many to count:
Long before they reached the age of thirty-three,
Jesus, Shelley, Keats and my own writerly father
Who left so many manuscripts and diaries.

Now, in my thirties, I wonder what made them tick,
What went in their bodies or minds to make them sick
And no longer afraid of lightning or busy roads,
Fresh cylinders or changing a light bulb all myself.

Sometimes I think I might die of laughter or heart-attack
From reading twisted truths on my students’ answer sheets.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Cowrie shells


Once we were both wanderers every day.
We looked at each other and the world;
Picked up cowrie shells from the sands
As we roamed the seashores together.

The shells were of many shapes and sizes,
Smooth like porcelain and treasures;
Much like our words and thoughts then
That exuded much love and many dreams.

We spoke of cowrie shells and the seas,
The words began late but never ended,
Who you were I could never know well,
Condemned to be a wanderer after all.

You remain an enigma now; a stranger with
Whom I spoke of dreams and cowrie shells.


Thursday, February 02, 2012

One last word


In the bright season of May
years ago our paths diverged;
not that I didn't love you,
yes, I did but there wasn't time.

Time, for us to start afresh
with stubbles of old loves,
for you, with your silences
and me with my clowning...

after the tears wore away
and my heart forgot its pain,
nothing remains of the old,
except a few flashes in words.

But now the world forgets not,
even after years of tears
it brings your name to me
in whispers and laughter.

True love it may have been
No longer live but in words.

Monday, January 02, 2012

Boanarges

The years have flown so fast, 
she says, in her soliloquy voice,  
a sign for me to sit up and wait 
for the final dart.
   
When it comes I'm already 
to swallow it down easily  
with a lot of lousy phlegm 
and heavens, plenty of patience. 
Yes, she loved listening to herself.  
You need to do what she did. 
You need to do things exactly  
How she used to do it all along
Hate and love, love and hate,  
She advises all her adversaries.

Wednesday, September 07, 2011

Cross-roads

Your coffee will be cold, the very words,
That fetched you back to me just now,
When I felt years could erase a memory
That I do not wish to bring up again.

Drawing a boundary separates the terrain
Into many different nations on a map.
But is erasing a person from life the same,
For us who were so much like each other.

Conflicting memories the mind brings back,
One of love, one of hatred, one of desire,
All etched against the summer rains
And cross-roads in our individual lives

Yes, I had taken a lonely path away from you
I remember, drinking coffee.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Woe-man

Out of the rib of man, she was created,
The source of life and mother of all men,
(And women), her yoke made heavy
By the first sin of disobedience.

Yes, she was not alone in her sin,
But his paradise was taken away
Though not as condemned as her,
In sinning against the Creator.

Thus sorrow became her fate,
She shrieked as her flesh tore
And brought forth her children
And her husband smiled proudly.

A strange tale is a woman’s
Whose flesh takes a man’s name.

Home

Home is where your heart goes back time and again, where you want to spend your quality time enjoying the activities that you like. Home i...