The summer was balmy

And the air hung like Indian muslin.

A somnolent lethargy overtook me

As I lay in my hammock

By the pond, hidden among weeds,

Whose surface shone speckled

By water’s sheen breaking through pondscum.

A sudden stir in the air above pond,

A glimmer of irridiscent colors!

A dragonfly was flitting upon the pond,

Transparent wings flashing colors

From metallic patches-

Red, brown, yellow, blue .

Helicoptering above, it lit

Upon a lily pad, compound eyes swirling

Its encircling globular vision searching, 

A predator seeking prey.

But Fate decrees its tragic moments.

The unwary dragonfly foolishly forgot

The predator in the shallows.

A sudden splash and whiplike motion!

A bullfrog leapt up mouth opening,

Flicking its long and sticky tongue out,

And captured the hapless dragonfly.

Thus marked the end

Of a predator by a predator.

Childhood Revisited

All those simple memories

Of our childhood

Still walk hand-in-hand

To wake up

At chance encounters.

Little feet, little legs-

That’s what we had 

In those elementary years

When we walked back

To our separate homes.

Spread across the street,

We walked abreast 

In those days

Of scant traffic.

Those were innocent days

Of no warped thought

And only straight talks

In the purity of childhood.

Decades later, I met

One of these walkers!

It was an unexpected

And arresting moment!

Eyes brimming

With joyful tears,

Hand over hand 

In a warm clasp,

We sharied those bygone days

In an affecting moment.

Words had no place ,

But our glances spoke

Of what we knew

Was pure without deceit

In that incandescent,

But innocent moment !


So much time 

Has tiptoed away

After the last breath

Slowly forsook you.

Grass covers your grave,

Ice frosts it,

Rain soaks it,

Dew moistens it,

Sun burns it

And wind sweeps it.

Yet you slumber away

In eternal rest.


The leaves have yellowed

And the fallen leaves

Deck the grass

On which I kneel,

Waiting patiently

To join my time with yours.




The Kid Behind the Tree

Who is the kid behind the tree?

Is he hiding from the world,

Away from the taunts and insults,

To shield from barbs and thorns

Like the child in the bubble

Free from contaminants

That hurt the smooth existence

Of a sweet childhood?

Is he hiding from the world

Because the world overwhelms him,

Expecting too much

From his little self,

To think like an adult,

Always to be good,

Not to be an idiot,

To be the wisest of all,

To be the smartest of all,

And never to make mistakes?

Where is his carefree childhood

Full of sweet and guileless memories?

Fall Myriad

I felt the delicious nip

Of Fall’s breeze

On my nosetips, eyelashes, and cheeks

And blissfully savored

The tawny gold season.

Around me fell the leaves

Like butterflies winging down

Never to rise again.

The aureate and ochre fluttering

Of maple, birch and oak leaves

Screned me in an alcove

Of Mattisse Odalisque.

Squirrels skittered with mouths

Bulging with acorns;

Rabbits ran helter-skelter;

Flowers died and dried

And their stalks withered.

The trees stood divested

And exposed the empty nests

Left vacant by birds ×ho migrate

At winter’s imminanent arrival.

Life dwindled away

And I waited

In dormant thoughts 

For the next regeneration.


Wayside Flowers

So many glittering stars,

So many enticing flowers,

So many enthralling views,

So many eventful days,

So many outstanding deeds

By so many illustrious people!

Yet, unobserved we stayed

On the outside – the onlookers.

Wars broke out, treaties were signed,

Skyscrapers were raised, discoveries were made,

Heroics were dared, and Space was straddled. , 

But the planet is rushing to doomsday

But, we stood on the wayside

Unable to stop the life threatening causes

Of air, water, and elements,

Unable to act,

Unable to change

The status quo of existential demise.

So, we remain the wayside flowers,

Merely existing for the day.