Oct 28, 2012


“You write about the beauty of the moon! 
Hey poet, do you realize that 
The light is mine?” –The Sun… 
“You sing about the beauty of the rain! 
Hey poet, do you realize that 
The water is mine?” – The Cloud… 
“You pen about the beauty of the river! 
Hey Poet, do you realize that 
The source is mine?” – The Mountain… 
“You praise about the beauty of the flower! 
Hey poet, do you realize that 
The hard work is mine? – The Plant 
The Poet realized. 
But God just smiled…. 

Oct 18, 2012


 Art by Ashok

The Pickled soul   
        Trapped in a bottle-   
                  Hot, sweet and sour; 
The Abysmal hole   
           Clueless battle;   
                    The Lust for more and more. 
A spark, a desire-   
         Ignites the prattle   
                  That ends in a pit or pyre. 
The Infinite spire;   
        The Tongues tattle;   
                   In silence the Words disappear… 
The strong survive;   
          The weak rattle;   
                  From this escape none. 
There’s no reprieve;   
         The Scattered cattle;   
                  All slaughtered one by one. 

Oct 9, 2012

The Lonely Road...

Photo: kotiyur 2011

The Lonely road meanders through
Yellow fields and shady green;
The sky has started to lose its blue;
The wind is dry, I roll the side screen
I make a choice at the dusty Vee
There’s not a soul as far as I could see;
My journey so far- a nonstop spree
But now I need to stop and pee;

I park the car by the peepal tree,
Over the carpet of dried brown leaves
I relieve and set my bladder free
But my heart heaves and the mind grieves:
Have I taken the futile route?
Will it be late for a U turn now?
Why do I get this nagging doubt
that I could’ve missed a Sign somehow?

A small prayer and I check my phone
As though by miracle the signal’s back
I cross a bridge and lo! A milestone!
With a renewed hope I hit the track;
I ignore the potholes and up the gear;
The lonely road will find my town;
The silver lining on the cloud seems near
On the lonely road as the sun goes down.

[another one from my archives...08.09.2011]

Oct 2, 2012

The Bitter Seeds...

Forlorn faces raining tears
Like murky monsoon clouds;
Tossed between hope and fears
Like children lost in crowds.

As fragile as an autumn leaf
That sways to the moody breeze;
A life docile that hangs in grief
Fallen even by a sleazy sneeze.

The bitter seeds buried in time
And watered by sweat and tears;
Will sprout one day from their bloody grime
And live a thousand years.

(Concluded.  -Continued from my previous post)