memories

who can I share all these memories

with but you who do not want to

have anything to do with them again

though we got them growing up

together when we delighted as children

in the little creatures like butterflies and

glow worms and snails and dragonflies

do you remember the scorpions 

you took for walks on the street, stringing 

them along after cutting off their stings

the girls including me screamed at this,

we climbed walls to get onto terraces

in rented houses where there were no stairs

the stars seemed within reach then

the black and white films we watched

i have to watch now without father and

mother and you, and i fly back to the past

where i walk alone on streets we walked ---

what do I do with all these memories

which I have now to suffer all alone.

Sunday

There's more to a Sunday than

Staring at the wife's face

How would a man know if

He is working on sabbath too

The rising sun is worth looking at

Through the canopy of trees

Where the birds greet its return

With a fanfare worthy of a king

Were you not there when the baby

Took its first steps towards you

Called you dada for the first time

Kept you awake with his stories

Spoken in the first language of man

There are chores to be done that

The hands doing them all alone

Six days a week should be free of

Let time not show its face for a day

When we have a face-to-face at home.

Sunset

The sunset speaks of dying memorably 

Turning heads with outbursts of tints

And outlines between form and thought

Homes beckon birds and humans while

Stars say there could be other roosts

That we have forgotten or lost sight of

The red orb flashes between buildings

Through the traffic it can be seen briefly 

No one has stopped to look at it sinking

The eyes wait impatiently for the signal,

There were times when the instant canvas

Daubed the heart with a myriad colours

Of ache, longing, nostalgia, and romance

When life's purpose was almost revealed.

Apricity

The light dims and brightens

As clouds keep the sun in and out

I am in two minds now  ---- to begin

The day or go back to bed, pretend

To sleep, hugging the shadows of night;

It feels colder than January last year

This could be because I am a year older;

What is that word to describe winter warmth

When the late riser finally gets to turn up?

Apricity --- is appreciated in the city not used

To the few months of hill station weather

The dew, I will swear, makes music sweeter

Even my voice is bearable when I dare to sing 

In the wee hours karoake songs of my summer.

Timeline

Facebook sends reminders of his

Birthday unaware he is no more

Friends do not forget to post messages

On his timeline with RIP greetings

To keep the memory alive of someone

Who is part of our unforgettable past

Is to refresh our own fading albums 

Remember our own imminent demise

When we leave behind all that we love ----

The morning sun casts shadows all over

I watch my own thin one trailing me as I

Begin my regular constitutional around

Familiar streets now prepping for rush hour

I do not have to hurry anymore nor want

To outwalk the predator shadowing me

I would not mind even if I am forgotten.

Spectator

On the curved lamp post

The grey and striped pigeon 

Perches, warming itself in

The rays of the January sun

Now rising to the right of the

Lakeview flats looking out

On houses where a lake

Once rippled and glittered

The predator can't have enough

The gig workers have resumed

Drilling at the nearby wedding hall

Raising two more floors probably 

In deviation of city building laws

Given the congestion of the street

All around me the world is busy 

Earning its daily bread with labour

The pigeon too has flown away

Leaving me gazing at the wisdom tree

Trying to hide a pair of doting mynahs,

I go back to my many chores cheerfully

Taking heart from all who are at work.

Night

I am not a nastic flower

That I have to shut down

With the onset of darkness

This December night when

The dew and stars arouse

The nyctophilia in me

I sneak out

To the woods behind

My hostel room just

To stand alone, feel the

Cold breeze on the face,

Listen to the psithurism,

Inhale the damp scents

Of tree and grass

Watch the bittens learn

To fly, circle and land

Against the sky ----

The cigarette smoke of

An intruder sends me

Rushing back inside ---

When will I ever have

You to myself without

The wolves coming sniffing.