Monthly Archives: November 2018

I Drop Dead


A dash through events
keeps me on tip toe.

Flew from one end
of the world
to the other.

A drive from the farthest
to the interior
all so vigorous
a journey tiring.

Followed by a sail
across the Bay Of Bengal
experience sea sickness
nauseating and intensive
a sojourn for a month

Finally in the train
arriving at the northern part
crossing cities, villages
mountains and rivers
a lengthy travel
through night and day
pronounces an unspeakable fatigue.

I drop down dead.

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Out Of Box


Back into the stream
one of challenges
being almost forgotten
I am in the crossroads.

A plunge is the need
one of immediate
and urgent.
I deliberate.

Could I? Could I?
I think hard. The age
and the break extends
a relaxation.

“Had been earlier
I would have performed.
it is too late.”
I mumble.

Thoughts keep me busy.
I rise with the mind,
resolve to get back.
I am into the competition.

The dedications has helped me.
on many occasions. Enter the 
arena with a pledge.
Certain to win.

Symbolic Of Life


The weather is pleasant.
Rains and temperature drop
make the days lovely.

Used to bright sunshine
being humid, November
is cool and calm.

The one defective part
is the onset of infections.
The onslaught is deplorable.

Fever, dengue
and swine flu abound
an appalling situation.

The cyclones add to the misery
with landslides and roof collapse
along with loss of lives..

Happiness and grief
seamlessly merge.
A sequence less known.

Symbolic of life
which holds
success and failure

The Interface


Stars and rains
sun and the shine
sea and the tides
rivers and the flow
keep me engaged.

Hills and the cliff
steep and high
trees and greenery
majestic and overwhelming
Impress me great.

The flights in the sky
look like birds
the ships on the ocean
sail stately
amazing to watch.

The cars ply in haste
traffic intercepted
the men on the roads
walk in a hurry
chaotic they appear.

The human involvement
create commotion
an usual phenomenon
hard to overcome
a strain beyond.

The Game Of The Vision


The other side of the fence

appears green.

Glittery it  looks

from a distance.

That is the magic

of the eye.

The flaws  turn

invisible.

They are beyond

scrutiny.

 

The side opposite

one in the proximity

presents itself  shabby.

The holes and folds

show a disarray.

That being the trick

of the eye.

The erroneous

get magnified.

They are observed

with diligence.

 

Could say,

The eye  resorts

to a play eluding

and deluding the truth.

 

November Rains


go for days.  Unpredictable
Incessant  and intermittent,
Drizzle and torrential
The garden is flooded.

Holding the sari high
in one hand, with an
umbrella in the other,
walk to pick the newspapers.

The paper man throws
the dailies with skill.If allowed
is sure to win gold
in Olympics

Next comes the heavily clothed,
milkman. His call is loud
and firm, Replicates the
voice of a cricket umpire

I run to take the milk bottle
one between the gate
and the porch.He swirls round
and speeds..Six runs!

The rains progress
from heavy to wild
I perceive with awe.
Thunder and lightning  follow.

Weather forecast for the day
is it would be warm and dry.
With my eyes on the news
I stumble. Knock the bottle.
A crash! The bottle and I.

The paper floats.
Milk spills, flows.
I lie flat  on the floor.
Water gushes.

Rains continue.