I am happy, I curbed
My fanatic heart
From painting
Another canvas plush
With pulsating colors
So fast.

Yet its sinking has left
A deep dimple in my chest
And my heart – swollen, floats
In the mires of my belly.

Putty and plaster
I have enough
To fill the gap
Completely.

So I shall not spend
Another age
Fishing it out
Only to lose it
Again.

May 18th, 2009.

In Memoir

I could almost, if I tried, let it fall
A tear for you, whom I love not.

For you loved me.

I knew it, yes, long I believe
Ever since I read my casual words
Carved on your countenance.

I dare not surmise - I fathom your despair.

I have yet to suffer
The wanting and the waiting,
The soul-wrenching agony,
Of loving one
Who loves not me.

Between pains -
Of him and me and now you
And then those to come -
I hunt for happiness,
Salvageable joys.

Relentlessly,
…
Life goes on.

April 19th, 2009.

Belonging

[Here follows, another ode, resplendent with "I"]

In a few oblong years
Surreptitiously
My emotions have transfigured
From an infinite echoing void
To first, a serenading prose
And now, a musical poesy.

I cannot write
Enough
On the mesmerising magic
Of the twittering sun birds
Flitting endlessly
In the flame-bearing Gulmohars
On a wet breezy May morning.

I sit sated
Long brimful,
Slowly dripping
With emotion.

I feign I have friends
Among happenings of nature
The comings and goings of lady-bugs

The blossoming of little purple flowers

The scattering of rain into spectra
The secret whispering of winds.

My grave, like my life
Should be littered with flowers -
Endless monuments
Of beauty dying young.

May 4th, 2009.

Doctoring Myself

[A testament of impending death
Hastily scampered, out her mouth as if
She could never again speak, did she falter then.]
I have reason to believe
The red sun sets, slanting
Oftimes, in a capricious east.

The permeating aura
Of blue pre-dawn stars
Speckles my pair of onyx pupils.

I have accumulated
Too much suffering
Within a pint of murmuring blood.

My curing days are over
I ambulate mechanically,
And healing had always been a ruse.

I wish to lay down my white-coat
And cradling some dolls and a weathered wand
Retire to a cave behind the western falls, forever.

April 19th, '09.

Rainbow

Sunlight is some strange spell:
Cast upon
A veiny white leaf -
Makes it glow green,
Atimes auburn.

Sunbirds gleam
A blinding blue
Among scores of dull
Earthy twitters.

Orioles glisten
A glimmering gold
In short leaps
From tree to tree.

Yet rain they love -
For,
In casual balmy evenings
It sighs sprays
Of spring’s best attire
In one careless sweep.

April 8, 2009.

Old Times

Appropriate, few yards, two by two
In this verdant patch
For me to lay
Asleep.

I must contain some droughty truths
Within grimy red brick walls
Of a never changing
Reality.

Street vendors outside, sell 32 bit jellies
2-leaf clovers, steamy ice-lollies
On square wheeled carts of
Wishes.

Keep this, friend, a modest memoir
Of what you are and cannot help
Of what I want and cannot
Be.

April 4, 2009.