Fresh from the past

On a cloudy day the dysania

Is a given though the seatherny

Seems to suggest some days

Can be forgiven for their slowness

The distance of the native city

Vanishes and the feet stand by

The lake as the sun slowly rises

Making the heart feel happily warm

The childhood friend soon joins me

With his fishing tackle to spend hours

Catching sunlight and singing songs

That probably kept the wary fish away

Stern faces pop up now and then with

Gratuitous advice not to while away time

We laugh at them and time laughs with us

The feet return juvenescent and I am ready to

Enter the world with eyes fresh from the past.

Shading long-distance

The moon is being eaten by the earth

Or so it seems when its shadow

Takes away all the satellite's glow

In another city we returned home

Through almost deserted streets

From a movie during an eclipse

Had a meal against the neighbour's

Dire warnings and something else

Without any significant consequences

Tonight the slow-moving clouds cannot

Keep away and keep hiding the show

What shade is this, blood red or copper?

The flatness turns to spherical as my son

Keeps coming back to the balcony 

To capture on camera this cosmic line-up

The mythology of a monster ingesting

The full orb makes the spectacle more

Dramatic than it is but no less wondrous

Even when it is no more out of reach it is

As if we have now all made a landing there.

Tears are too human

The world keeps disappearing 

From me in little baby steps 

The child has grown up into

New times that I cannot enter

His room is full of music more

In step with the feet than the heart

The traffic races from stop to stop

In a pace faster than I would like

Destinations arrive too soon saving

Time I do not know what to do with

The distance grows and speeds increase

The slow feet cannot but be left behind

The garbage bins pile up with the useless

Machines are feted till they are outdated

Tears are frowned upon as too human

Night embraces all whose suns have set.

A rainy day

I wake up to a rainy day

After a rainy night I left

Behind to chase absurd dreams

The clouds promise another

Idle day without feeling guilty

About putting off some chores

I watch the little one next door

Going down the stairs in raincoat

There her school bus is sounding

An impatient rush hour horn that

Can be heard all over at this hour

There are no more Monday mornings

For me to hurriedly wake up to meet

The rain falls a while and takes a break

Time has given a licence now to be slow

After all those years of rushing about -----

There's still time for the feet to cry halt.

Liminal

The evening light is blue and black

Between day and night lingers the dusk

In a liminal place of a thousand sighs

What has been lost is more than a day

A love is buried again and mourned again

What can't be tugs once more at the heart 

A desire comes begging and is sent away

Amid all the noise of the traffic a sense of 

Death and silence hangs in the dusty air

The signal is red and comes with a hearteen

This is a time of timeless longing and ache

But we can't stop for long and lament

While waiting for the light to turn green

This pang of grief must be primordial

What the caveman felt when the sun set ---

The city picks up and flees into the night.

Morning

The house is not awake yet

And the day is yet to stir

Between night and day 

This hour is best when

The world seems mine

The birds must think it's theirs

The way they clamour and cry

The milk is still on its way though

The smell of coffee is already here

This could be the time when the universe

Shares its secrets and answers all prayers

This could be the time when all dreams

Leave the minds and look to take shape

This could be when the mist disappears

And the deity stirs and rises like the star

Or this could be when peace comes unasked.

The tree is like the sea

In windy July the tree

Is in unending movement

Like the sea that cannot

Stop its dance or chant

In my line of sight a crow

Is busy building a nest with

What it can find on the street

It often catches its breath 

While carrying a broomstick

Or dry twig, on my roomy ledge

The heaving branches make the 

Little airy home in the making, bob

Seeing all this frenetic realty trend

Another bird is buoyant, serenades

Its speckled mate, through the day and

Night, when its cry cannot go unheard.