Kissing Kin
Be well, good, nice, old-fashioned
Friday, July 29, 2011
Friday, June 4, 2010
My corrugated face
There was a rainbow mentioned
in all my stories
There were endless love stories
with puny princes
There were sunflowers
enthralled by swooning princesses
Ants tripping on pieces of jaggery
Sweet bells in temples tottery
In a lonesome corner
Grandmothers
being catty with their Gods
in their warm checkered quilts
Leaves and earth
Being made to mate
by warm rains and
a hedonistic wind
Men playing with shingles and nails
Soaking rags into a drain
Nodding to loud wedding songs
Swatting busy flies
Desiring each others wives
You are at fault Mother
Jolting my body
at sunset
Making me swot
At books that teach poetry
Reading up wars, famine, death and gore
Now look at me
endlessly insomniac
trying to scrape at
My corrugated face
Titular sadness
Tilt of the head
Up or sideways
Brings into view
the world
Sun, rain and storm
droll regular pigeons
in happy form
dueling with koyels
Shafts and beams
unfinished structures
upwardly mobile
eventually solid
stale afternoons
looking forward
to wet nights
no power cuts
faraway dreams
money-less pockets
desires nestled snug
in creative sockets
Common Nouns
There was a fish
blue, yellow and
dotted with spots
riding a watery haze
She looked pretty
with a soft fin
that saw one
through and
through
I asked
"What type"
"What breed"
"What do her colours mean"
The man at the
fishy aquarium
looked over once
then twice
He is a fish
She there, is a fish too
This one,
curled around itself
It is a fish too
They are all fish
he then walked
into the sea
the watery
chatterbox
parched
blurry sea
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Anger, Marriage and Water
A young woman
of fifty six
gets up on time
for a bucket
to fill
She sweats
and huffs at
her husband
with pursed lips
and dragon gaze
The water trickles
molds into
murderous thoughts
some at the authorities
some at her husband
some at the world in general
The husband stirs
his gut
already awake
to the young woman's
pallid ire
He stoops on purpose
to show surrender
to flimsy water
and his mad woman
thus continues
his weary bond
with water and
the young woman
he married thirty three
years yesterday
tomorrow
there is hope
for water gutsy
for a smile
bereft of murder
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Heat and Dust
The grime settles
in between the bars
of my gritty teeth
I sigh at the road
Scraped knees
and errant bees
golden dust
clouds that must
ruin an evening race
or transform
into a football field
with sloppy teens
a soft romantic
I have been
with squashed lilies
in a naughty breeze
now a cynic
with arms so plump
bad breath
and grumpy roads
now a cynic
in arid grace
a sore cough
in dark bylanes
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