Empty Nest

High up in the boughs, the nest clung against the winds,
Among the leafless branches that splayed out reaching into emptiness,
Bony fingers stretching out into the winter void.

Desolate in the brumal air, the nest clung, in lonely sorrow,
To the parting in the fork; its twigs in disarray in the air of abandon;
Amidst cracked eggshells and strewn down lining,
The nest was mute, up in the shaking boughs.

Rheumy eyes peered out through scanty lashes,
From behind parted curtains, at the dreary nest
And blinked the eyes at the unshed tear
Gathered in the ducts that dried up so long ago
In the forlorn days, in the wake of partings
When the last vacant room began to reek of unuse and must.

Breath rattled the bony cage when the watcher sighed in gloom
At the void and emptiness left behind in mottled remnants
Of loves lost and lives departed- dusky shadows in the waning glow
Of fading embers and afternoon sun in the empty room behind!

What Counts

Everything should always count,
Even jealous years trying
Through memories of promise.

Some thoughts have consequences-
My fate’s pawns play
Upon plots against passions
And pause to sustain dreams.

But, we are the stuff of dreams
And, in our wispy existence,
Words cut deeply like rapiers, and
Neglect surrounds with suffocation-
Pretense wins the day!

Every hurt is cherished, preserved,
And revived with each pained breath,
Oppressingly cheered to know
That I have weathered that too.

Then, hand in hand, we turn
Towards the lowering sun,
Aging towards the sunset!

Life Goes On

The sere fallen leaves
And the shattered broken fence
Witness waning life.
The rocks, dank and dark,
By ev’rgreens and year-end grass
Take forboding stance.
Like sheep in a meadow,
We are herded, mute ‘n servile,
In foggy terrain.
The scaly serpent writhes
Amid rough and tumbled rocks.

Lord God made them all!

I live upon thorns
To feed on bitter berries,
And yet, life goes on.

By the gnarled, bleached tree
And the weathered rocky crags,
The green of hope grows!

Wait of the Sane

Dust of desperation shadows mornings;

Soulless hunger rattles weary bones;

Lonely dawn crosses lonelier darkness.

The summer waters tumbled down

In gleeful stream, full of life and joy.

Yet, shadows wait and entice

Into midnight’s snare of subsumed dreamscape

With dark morsels of primal prickings.

Moon changes patiently;

Time floats beyond worn thoughts-

The sane wait out for sun to happen!

The Blue Jeans

Brand-labelled, yet earthy,
The blue jeans reigns
Among the youthful togs,
Supremely assuring
The vacuous youth
Of his machismo
And her sensuality.

But this Levi-Strauss concoction
Was nothing but the cowhands’ wear
To muck around in barns and fields,
In all the mires and manure;
And, in all the climes, its toughness a legend,
Its wear and tear needed no consideration.
Akin to tough hide and
Hideous in hue of washed out blue,
The blue jeans was no fashion plate!

Yet, glorified by Calvin Kline
And others of that ilk,
Teens pour their nether limbs
Into the twin pipes of blue denim.
Whether pumice-knocked
Or acid-worn or both-
Frayed with careful care
And not with wear,
Loose-hipped or hip-hugged,
The blue jeans heads the triumphal march
From practicality to glamour-wear,
From rural scene to urban chic-
A fashion nexus and a teen uniform!

All That Glitter

The khaki-clad guard salaamed
And opened the gleaming doors
Into Aladdin’s cave-
Bangles and bracelets
And rings and earrings
Winked at eager-eyed women
Who sat in red velvet chairs;
Round arms, waiting necks,
And ready fingers tried again
And again the golden wares.
Men, in careful boredom,
Watched the buyers- not
The wives, sisters, and mothers,
But the errant pretty face-
A fair neck here, and a white arm there-
The faces glowed, the jewels shone,
And money rolled in indulgent excess.
Solomon alone can stand
Against a jewelry store’s splendor!

Night Glooms

Sable-clad, the dread silent night arrived,
Quiet as the full-sated, homing herd;
Dusk crept in gloom cover and cast a pall
O’er faded chimes and dead footfalls in hall.

Heavens loomed in ebon splendor, arching
Above my gloomy bower; lonely and parching
I lay waiting, waiting for slumber’s balm,
On sagging springs, my wayward thoughts to calm.

Solos and pairs paced the squandrons combined,
Unruly hordes, soul’s dark companions, to bind
Fetters on dreams; and hooded thoughts collage
My lone nights and enthrall my peace in cage.

Gentle Paraclete, whisper and dispel
My gloom as day brightens in morning’s spell!

Elephant at My Window

Someone always comes
To my window, visiting,
Asking for no welcomes,
Yet, all the same questing.

Often, it’s a swallow,
Face always aturning,
Beady eyes to allow
Some impertinent learning.

I have seen a crow
Many times this year,
Eager to fill his craw,
Hungry for a corn-ear.

A squirrel wasn’t shy
To sit upon the sill,
Hurrying teeth to pry
The nutmeat without a spill.

The neighbor’s tabby mewed
In genuine frustration
As the window grill proved
Hard for penetration.

The wand’ring mongrel poked
Through the window grill;
In expectation peeked
Every day like a drill.

But, I never saw an elephant
Stopping at the window;
Yet, I truly did not lament
The tusker’s absent bow.

Until one day, at the window,
Surprised I was to see
The grey mammoth pass below
And, atremble was my knee.

He walked by, though unbound,
Without a touch, a glance or bend,
Without a crunch or sound;
Majestic was his head’s intent!

Now that I’ve seen an elephant
Outside my very window,
I’ve seen all I need or want
And, I’ll stand away, I vow!