My Window Pane

My window pane deceives me
The droplets that trickle down
Its slippery countenance
Are not tears

Those are God's blessings
To a parched heart

I Breathe Poetry

 

I feel barren within
For days I don't feel the rhythm
Of life pulsating within me

Have I lost touch
I ask myself
Have I at last
Taken that never ending break
Am I finished, famished, fused
I wonder with unease
Have I come upon that invincible wall
Which poets call the mind block
I can't decide
Baffled I wander

Weeks pass by
In desultory surmise

And then this morning
During predawn muse
I open my window
To let in the breeze
Filter in to diffuse
The muggy heat
Intoxicating the surround
With a heady perfume

Peering into the dark
I see a clump of white
Raising its head
Amidst the bold green
First bloom of this season
After three years of
Nurturing a dream
The petals unfold in soft curls
With streams of gold
Brushing their cheeks

As the dawn breaks
In vibrant hues
I breathe afresh

The wall within crumbles
The heart thuds again
On an ethereal beat
A few lyrics float in air
I stretch my arms
To bring them to grips

Lo! poetry again I breathe ...

 

 

Desolation

Dry leaves crunch underneath my feet
As I approach the bend of a much trodden path
Of life still new gesticulates at me afresh
The poverty of my soul dithers my steps
The blindness of my vision directs me to the wrong turn
I wake up from a nightmare that has lasted too long
By a soft touch, a tender call, a nameless vow
You attract me to your engulfing embrace
I bow down in acknowledgement of your endless glory

 

 

 

 

Sitting By The Window

Dawn tiptoes stealthily
Towards my window
The dark silhouettes
Enlighten slowly
In the purity of light
A car washer cleaning cars
A milkman cycling past
With clanging containers of milk
I too have to take to the sleepy roads
As my pet Mr. Snow Boot nudges me
With soft growls
The day's begun
No more sitting by the window...

 

Glorious morn seeps in unstoppably
Under a glowering sun
The street lights burn

With a weak zeal
The usual noises of work
The honking of horns
The busy strides of passers by....

As the afternoon draws close
Shadows of the trees lengthen
On my veranda
A pale good bye ensues
Its the parting time...
 

The sun tilts westward
Leaving behind a trail
Of riotous red, purple, soft pink

Orange mixed with black and blue
A wistful end to day's delight...

The night comes in with bold steps
Sprinkling a few stars on the way
A doting moon with a motherly smile
The neons and the sparkles of the sky
Vie with each other
For supremacy...

Tomorrow at predawn
I shall again sit by the window
To witness the interplay
Of darkness and splendour...

Till then...