Lily With Me

Is it a deep sigh

That wafts up to me

In the gentle breeze?

There is sadness

In this breath;

There is mourning

In this puff of air.

Is it a statement

That Lily is no more?

My heart is squeezed

By writhing wires

And is lacerated.

Lily is, surely, gone!

Yet, I feel

Morsels of Lily clinging,

Never letting go.

Oh, such precious links

That still keeps me whole

With dulcet grace

That was Lily!

On earth she walked

In the splendor of goodness;

But she is no more

And we are diminished.

Immigrants

Oceans shivered

When, in our foolishness,

We fled our native shores

To foreign climes

And misunderstood

Promised horizons!

Pressed Between the Pages

Into the gentle silence of rumination,

Leaves shed randomly in little rustle,

Leaving memories helter-skelter.

But one floated up against free fall

To tweak my lost and forsaken dreams-

One memory of a golden childhood

Where flying horses galloped by,

Carpets floated through the air,

Dragons swooped across the sky

And djinns  granted opulent wishes.

It was a dream far from the fantasies,

Treading the realm of science,

Weighing quantities with qualities;

It was a dream to be like Madame Curie,

To trudge among the phials and chemicals,

Discovering elements to benefit mankind.

I grabbed this flustered dream from floating

And, within my poetic pages, pressed it to enshrine.

Gray

Oh, the winter enters so quickly

That one forfeits the sight of color,

Leached away from life and limb

In its gelid cold and frigid hold.

Varied grays enshrouded the sky

With clouds pregnant with dense vapor

Above the gloomy landscape

Of gray-barked,  skeletal trunks

Of leaflets trees with spindly arms.

The slate gray lanes stretched ahead

In never-meeting parallels

Bordered by sepulchral white lines.

Conifers stood sentry in charcoal gray

Speckled with previous flurries.

What is ahead in my road, but Gray

That stole away all vitality?

Or do I see pearly white streaking

Through the gray-mantled sky?

Man Child

A child he was

With playful warmth

And eternal joy

Chortling gaily

When little things

Attract his open attention.

 

A man he was,

Long of limbs

With fluid movements,

His joints in action.

A sports aficionado he was

Playing all games,

And making man`s plays.

 

This man child

Loved his ways,

Sporting and otherwise.

He went through life

In gay abandon

But  in carefree warmth

Towards his fellowmen,

Helping where needed-

A joy to the world

And a pleasure to himself.

 

 

 

 

The Tapping Girl of My Days

Into my days, the girl stepped in;

She tapped and tapped

And brought rhythm to my days.

She tapped on Sunday

And the Sun shone brighter.

She tapped on Monday

And the Moon cast silvery light.

She tapped on Tuesday

And kept Tyr from waging war.

She tapped on Wednesday

And the patch-eyed Wodin smiled.

She tapped on Thursday

And Thor flung his hammer.

She tapped on Friday

And Freya came to the house.

She tapped on Saturday

And sent misfortune’s Saturn away.

For the rest of my days,

Let her tap away my days.

 

Children’s Laughter

Like the blissful songs of morning birds,

Like the joyful voices of singing cherubs,

Like the silvery droplets of the wooded cataracts,

And like the tinkling of silver bells,

Children’s laughter reached my ears and soul

And I welcomed it as parched earth during drought

Soaked in the first drizzle of the Monsoon rains,

Refreshing and rejuvenating,

My ailing heart with its plethora of aches,

Torn memories and fruitless dreams .

I woke to the plays of my grandchildren

And shook of my lethargy and doldrums

To face living another day.

Could It Be Love at First Sight?

I gazed

Into twin pools of amber

Fringed by curly long lashes

And drowned.

The black flecks in the pupils

Wrought mischief around me.

It was just my first glance;

I was enticed and enthralled,

Feelings churned up and around.

This was NEW!

Heart palpitated

And shook with doubts

Of unreadiness

For the tumult,

For the havoc,

For the surges and ebbs,

And the unchatered realms.

What is this, queried self,

Tremulous from the first attack

Of love at first sight.

Love in Spring

I breathed love

In Spring’s fragrance

When cherry blossoms showered

Soft white ovals

On my palms,

On my hair,

On my lashes

And on my nosetips,

Feather-touching

With the flutter of gentle breeze

When I walked on cushioned softness

Under my feet, on the white carpet

Which smoothed the green spikes

Of the meadow grass.

 

Panacea

Grief has a way of showing up

When least expected.

One may be

In the middle of muddled thoughts,

In the middle of celestial imagination,

In the middle of frenzied activity,

In the middle of mundane packing

Or in the middle of old missives.

 

Grief raises its head

Unprovoked, uninvited,

It’s tentacles gripping,

Giving intense pain

And vivid longings.

 

Grief colors my thoughts

In my daily routines;

It enthralls my spirit

And I am a captive, helpless.

 

I seek relief

From entrapped feelings

Of what has gone before

And what will never happen.

 

I search for alleviation

In fantasy and romance

And found faux panacea!