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I cross my legs—not my mind, sitting On a chair next to the bay window to prop Up a notepad, I see a family of turkey Looking for breakfast in the morning haze, In the field across the street, A dogged tide of thoughts rushes to shore With the repeated sinewy siren of question Why … Continue reading A dogged Tide of Thoughts

The fragrant August hostas Blooming along the stone wall Bear good tidings-- There are still many warm days ahead Midst disrupted normal life In the year of pandemic. Scooping up water from the river With my cupped hands Wondering how rivers sweep Around the boulder Without disturbing its flow. Reflecting faces with smiles And twinkling … Continue reading Feelings

The spring flirtation is gone by,  In the mid-summer cosmoses dance In the bright sun after downpour, Alliums fade, Day lilies count days Before the school starts. Between yesterday and tomorrow Today finds its way to move forward, In spite of the weight                                            Of shadowy yesterday— Scars marked with weal,  And nostalgic comfort of … Continue reading In Mid-Summer

Tollgate on a Bridge Heading to a tollgate on a bridge, No stopping, no U turn allowed, The African drum beats rhythmically From a CD player in the car  And the sun climbs shortening shadows. The river below distances further As the vehicle climbs the arc of the bridge Pulleying to lift our souls. The … Continue reading Tollgate on a Bridge

           We are made of words.                  Scott Momaday Words to thoughts are Like winds to sail, Heidegger said;             Keep words well-trimmed to thought             Simple, honest, true             Sail stays close to the wind             The ship keeps her course. Common words, special words, foreign words Words of wisdom tell stories to be … Continue reading Soul’s Pulse

Where is the home for “perfection” Where the shame shies away Only reappears redressed In one world with love? I read burning pages of social fabrics Fraught with eloquence, elegance and eminence That my blood lacks, And the ashes of flaming soul Are still good enough To engage with the conscience Pulsating in my narrow … Continue reading Good Enough

They must be Orwellians Oinking their way to destroy The house of the unsuspected. Even the letter “M”, the thirteenth In the line-up of alphabets  Yielding power on the fulcrum—left/right Is afraid to precede the “oink” For the word becomes pointless. Hollow words should be extinct, But not in this uncertain climate, They keep on … Continue reading …Oink Oink…

When my children knocked on my door Bearing the gift of unrehearsed motherhood In their soft skin, I let them in. The motherhood came without instructions But with a bayonet on one side And a sword on the other, She cleared away debris on the path Left behind the war Holding an umbrella over us … Continue reading Mother of Pearl

No running, sauntering or shuffling feet On empty streets lined With dark store fronts, Chairs stacked away in eateries. Cherish the gift of time even in isolation, For nothing is lost as long as we remember The delight of gift bridges us over turbulent waters. Be wise not to squander the gift And become the … Continue reading Gift of Time

When you call, Our tide flows toward shore And ebb rushes back to sea, I want to walk on beach Under your fully lit face, Howling dogs in distance, I want to be your drummer Beating at the rushing flow, I want to play flute To serenade the retreating ebb. You pull tide relentlessly by … Continue reading When Moon Calls…