Jenny

In those salad days,
Throngs of nubile girls,
In their teenage frenzy,
Waltzed through
The portals of academia-
While leafing through
The parchments of memory,
A vivacious presence sauntered in,
With curly hair parted
In two loose insoucient braids
And a wide smile.
As it always happens,
Time sped not in seconds,
But in decades!
And the meeting was propitious!
Because, the promise of the teen years
Has matured to a captivating,
Multifaceted adult
Of the same wide smile
And much more.
With a lightness of spirit
And compassion,
The blithe mien
Masking sage and serious ideals,
Jenny of today
Has entered the stage.

Chiarascuro

Closer and closer it came,

Softly, in padded stealth –

The scythe swished and, one by one,

Down came yet another dear.

 

How to grieve, when, where,…

Tears course down in unwiped furrows

And in untold concentric sorrows.

I huddled, unsolaced, unreprieved.

 

Time did not stand still – what cliche-

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours…

Swathes of sorrows unfurled

In the middle of iridiscent life and joys.

 

Life weaves its pattern;

The warps and wefts, hand moving in and out,

Dances in step with the colors,

Through humanity’s told and untold tales

Of death and griefs

And life’s ephemeral joys.

Seara

Seara of the sea air,

With golden hair and sea green eyes,

Waded into my emptiness,

Into my life of lonely thoughts and deep desperation.

 

Seara of the sea air,

With golden hair and sea green eyes,

Woke me from the depths

Into wakeful seconds, breathing deep,

The pallor forgotten for roseate cheeks.

 

Seara of the sea air,

With golden hair and sea green eyes,

Fingered me with exquisite touch

And I came up, out of depths,

Spluttering with live air,

Inspiring life, laugher glimmering-

I was alive!

 

Sears of the sea air,

With golden hair and sea green eyes,

Is no more!

She left me bereft of living light;

But the glimmer lingers

Of our life – a Milky Way

Of shared moments-

Streaks of love, life and light!

 

 

 

 

Where are You?

I did not step in time

And missed the passage of years.

I keep finding memories

Tucked away in corners

Hitherto unvisited.

How did they find

Their little nooks

And little places

Among the shelves,

Bags and boxes?

There you were hiding,

Among the photos,

Among the letters,

Among the unexpected gifts.

But you never hid!

You are with me

In the corners of my heart

Holding on with feathery clasps,

Never intruding,

Present every moment.

When I reflected

And summoned up

Cherished delicacies

Of our knitted lives.

What pathos prompted me

To search for you

Who was twined in my own self?

 

Sojourner

It is a gypsy’s life

That I lead, from place to place,

Nomadic in deeds,

But, homesick in the heart.

 

From the frigid climes

Of Adirondacks

To the Arabian sea shore

And Pacific sands

I wandered

Without goal

And without destination,

Searching for something

To anchor me down.

There is no one to wait for

And no one to travel with,

But a lonely sojourner

I remained

In my seemingly

Dreamlike life.

 

But, does anyone know

The pathos of loneliness

That leaves one shiftless

Like a paddle free boat?

Writing

The blank paper stared at me

And I took up pencil with trepidatio;

My palms were sweaty

And my nose was crinkling

When my nerves came close

To being shattered.

 

To freely write

Is to navigate unknown waters

And I dread to get

My feet wet.

 

The topics on the board

Glared at me

And I tremble

At their defiance.

 

What do I choose?

Do I opt for the easy one

Or let creative juices flow,

So I choose ambitiously?

 

Ah, I have my topic

And I am happy to note:

I will write

About the wonder of writing.

 

Chaos of Visits

The crow had been cawing

All through the morning

And that foretold the advent

Of visitors any time.

 

 

Oh, but what can I do?

The house is not ready!

Is it messy, is it clean?

Run around and check

Every nook and corner,

Every room and porch,

And every piece of furniture!

 

What about the food?

Will they stay long?

Is it enough to have a snack

Or is a meal expected?

With trepidation, the thought wriggle in:

The stay could be prolonged!

 

So many things to do

And so little time!

I am bound in cliches now.

What an unusual state it is!

 

I detest cliches

Homage to Annie

On the wings of fancy,

I travelled to Paradise,

Adventured in Arabia,

Climbed Olympus

And sparkled in fairy dust-

Timeless gifts

Of untold pleasures,

More precious

Than diadems and gems-

All showered from one

Whose voice is a memory

And whose gentle smile

Is pressed between pages

Of pensive recollections.

 

I stood in front of a name

Etched on the wall of monuments

And the face swam in front

Of eyes swimming in tears

And yearning for a look, a voice,

Or a smile!

 

I could not raise a sound

To pay homage to that voice

That stilled for our times;

My eyes could not open

To see those eyes bent in kindness

And the smile that blossomed

Perpetually, never wavering,

Never skewed in complaint,

Always taking in the arrows

Shot by life’s crossfire

It is the benefice

And benediction

Of my todays!

 

 

Taunting Grief

Grief is ruthless,

Taunting till one grips it!

 

Shed or unshed,

Tears tried in vain

To wash away the grief

That happened suddenly

And surprisingly.

 

Whether affecting slowly

Or striking with lightning speed,

One is never ready

To withstand the onslaughts,

The ever widening eddies!

 

Where is the foothold

To stop the sinking,

The infinite whirl

That is relentless

And giddying?

 

Try this, try that;

Talk, walk, do something.

Yet, there is no end

To this maddening swirl,

The ever widening whirl of grief.

 

But, there has to be a pause.

A sudden brake

Or a slow lowering pedal

That comes to complete stop

To the maddening depth

That sucks one in,

Leaving only dry leaves

Of plausible memories.

 

Is there a hand reaching down

Or a branch within grasp?

Does this have to be eternal?

 

Reach out for someone,

For a consoling gesture,

Or a shoulder to cry on.

 

It is always an extrovert

Who endures quietly,

The silent grief

Unperceived by the world,

However  excruciating !

 

Is there anyone out there?

Is that a cry in the wilderness,

A cry that wafts with the breeze

That waltzes by, unnoticed?

Is there a Providence

To pull one out of this abyss?

 

Or  reach in

To the core of entity

To find oneself

To bear the grief

That almost toppled

The very existence.