On A Spring Morning

The rain-washed grass glistened

In the pale morning sun;

The dew drops scintillated

Sending radiance through prisms.

 

The road serpentined along the banks

Of the  curvy Mohawk river

Which washed the foot rests of the bills

And mountains of the Adirondacks.

 

The lambant light of the early sun

Shone on the green-fisted valley

And the greens danced in varied vestitures

Starting with nature’s first green of gold

Sprinkled on mint greens and lime greens

Of the newly sprouted leaves

While the dark green of the conifers

Stood sentry to the vista of the Valley

And smudged into the crowns of distant peaks.

 

The river flows in an  arabesque

Of lines of movement and placid reverie,

Sluiced by the water gushing from open locks.

The reflected greens and shadows

Is a palette of varied values.

 

A paean of joy rose up in my breast

To exalt this feast of green glory and sunshine,

Full of promises to be fulfilled.

 

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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 blossmed

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!

 

 

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Lily of My Heart

Lily of the valley

Spins not, weaves not-

But outdid Solomon in splendor!

 

Lily of my heart

Toils and strives;

The sweat of brow

Glistened every moment.

Yet, She outshone in splendor,

The beauty of her soul

Outshining the beauty of her surrounds.

 

There was the smile

That coated her days.

No complaint crossed her lips

And no whining marred

The music of her voice.

 

Lily sang out in dulcet tones,

Her life scripting the lyrics.

She provoked no one

And caused no turmoil,

But quietly bid farewell,

Ending her painful sojourn

On this land of travails.

 

Ariyilla ( I Don’t Know)

Eliot sings

Between echoes

Of memories

And the stars

Laugh to dust

In a hollow heaven

When loneliness brushes

Cold doubt.

Needing another’s soft hand

In the dark,

Remember to climb ahead

And feel the warmth of love’s colors.

How peace abides

Incredibly at odds

Against history!

Sometimes the aftermath

Of furious tornadoes are

Covering puddles

And peacefully bleak mud.

But, I still do not know

Whither I go,

Where to rest.

The birds have trees

And the rodents have their holes.

I still seek

My zones and home

To find my pillow

To rest my head

In the wake of fulfilment.

Departures

So sudden it was

That so many left

Without even a goodbye,

Leaving voids

Not to be filled

By anything around.

 

Young or old, family or friend-

Into the sunset they walked.

 

And I was bereft, shedding tears

And dreaming dreams

That never happened

Or will never happen,

Seeking for a presence,

Reaching out

For what wasn’t there.

 

Crowds came in and out

Filling gaps in life,

But no one filled

The void in my heart.

 

More and more, I wallowed;

Loneliness knocked at the door.

I chose to let it in

And it clenched my head;

Pain entered without a welcome!

 

I groped in vagueness,

But found no hold.

I kept slipping

Into the vortex of grief.

 

But gentle memories

Tugged with insistent affection

And kept the edge of sadness

Stay open for the head to stay up

Without sinking into wild despair.

Gentle Mary

Gentle as fresh showers

That drizzled softly,

She walked the earth,

Delicately suffering,

Mute and deep in her affections.

She loved dearly and surely

Without the panoply and display.

Wishing to be remembered,

She gifted tokens and symbols

Of timeless values

Of affection and memory.

 

Though delicate as a sapling,

Her porcelain skin gleaming,

Quietly and steadfastly,

She trod her path

Filled with thistles and thorns,

Pebbles and boulders.

 

Angelic in demeanor,

Her mien in peace,

She endured like the earth;

When the trumpets sounded

And the last notes faded

She left us her gentle presence,

Always in loving memory

Of the caress of her hovering spirit.

 

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?