Friday, 23 July 2021

I take the road....

 

I take the road
that takes me along
wherever it goes,
turning wherever it bends
stopping wherever it ends.

The rivers flow by me
when my feet blister
with burning sores,
they nurse my wounds
and soothe my bleeding sole.

The wind blows by me
when I decelerate,
short of breath,
picks me up on its wings
drops me at the next turning.

My journey rolls
around the earth
like a ball of thread
searching for my own end
arriving at and departing

from strange destinations,
forever in transit,
until my road and I
slip at once
and fall over the horizon.

©


Thursday, 15 July 2021

Fish for Thought

pc:pngtree.com

Sue & Rue


Sue: Say, what's benefaction?

Rue: It's like giving poor men fish, thus feeding them for the day.

Sue: What's leadership?

Rue: Like teaching poor men how to fish, thus feeding them for a lifetime.

Sue: So what's politics?

Rue: Like giving poor men fish to keep them eating out of your hands forever.

©


Thursday, 8 July 2021

Pretty Place


Life reeled out
in umpteen slides
of days, months, years,
time flew by
like a gushing wind
or a storm
or a cyclone
but never like a gentle breeze,
raising clouds of blinding dust.
Now that the hurricane is settled
let me put my feet up
and look around.
Those little flower pots
I had watered every day
as by habit,
that photo corner
crowded with reminiscences
of the toddling years
of my family,
that wall of art,
a continuum
of aesthetic indulgence
from childish scrawls
to teen scribbles,
those slanted rows of paperbacks,
slices of fiction and facts
in tidy stacks,
that wooden cabinet,
the ancient hand-me-down,
with its invisible treasures
of lingering memories
of a bygone era,
and visible little tokens
of special moments
some remembered
some faded into oblivion,
that vintage trunk,
a treasury of memorabilia,
and those little pieces
we picked up over the years
utterly deceptive
in worth and weight,
but cherished in their time,
snugly placed and forgotten,
beckon my gaze.
Hey! My home
is a pretty place!

© 

Sunday, 27 June 2021

At times

 

PC: Sanil Nair

Yes, it’s raining again. It’s the kind of rain with which you tend to have a conversation. It’s the kind of rain that beats in rhythm with your heart. Rapidly, loudly, gently, softly… But always on the beat. In the correct tempo.
 

At times

At times in a whisper
at times dropping hints
at times throwing caution to the winds
the rain is in conversation
with my heart
at times in a drizzling monotone
at times with storming passion
at times pouring its heart out
intensely, incessantly,
to mine beating in response
at times with a quickened pace
at times with a fluttering pause
at times missing a throb
as I give in to the thunder
of their doubletalk
at times in languor
at times in elation
at times with abandon
but sure as pouring heaven
we all three –
the rain, my heart and I –
are playing on the beat
relentlessly, rapturously. 

© SW


Tuesday, 22 June 2021

Reality


pc: pngtree.com

Sue & Rue
 

“What is reopened economy?”

“It’s like a beverage store opened after a prolonged lockdown.”

“What is suspended reality?”

“It’s like a long queue formed in front of it by jobless clientele.”

©