I tried to find a thought todaySomething... anything at allto make sense of, to entertain, to build into song.Only these empty linesblinked back at me clueless.Whatever happened to that 7-year-old poetess!What does one do, I wondered,in a time so unforeseen as thisTurn to the Guru, it said,always, always.And many voices thenspoke from the heavens n'… Continue reading Tomorrow and today
Category: poem
Summit
1 The cave breathes.Its mouth yawns open into a silenceolder than memory-a threshold of bone and shadow. The air drips—and centuries dissolve into mist.Each mineral vein chantshymns no scripture wished revealed. She kneels before the strange fireburning despite everything. The mountain breathes through her chest,the flesh- a boundary no longer certain.She is no longer herself—but… Continue reading Summit
Guru Purnima
bejeweled in silverI let your light fall upon methrough every window in my room...the sleeping sandalwood breeze yawns against the curtained white-laceresting your radiant face in its arms...At once, I'm bathed in blessings!Tonight, you sing the lullaby, Chandraand lord knows, how many dance... Many moon-lit blessings of Guru Purnima to you all!
I am silence
I believe in ash in the flameless residueblowing as dustthrough Your fluteI believe in dark eyeshollowed by crying centuries of memory and bodiesthrough and of YouI believe in the spiritthat floats by saints and soulswhere loved ones dwellrenewedI believe in YouNow, too tired to even prayThis breath, a stone in the chestThe heart a muffled… Continue reading I am silence
हर हार हरि का द्वार
अब और क्या आंसू बहाऊं, अब और किसे पुकारूं...जब सब मुखौटे ही रण पर गिर पड़े, और मैं, शहीदों की तरह जलते हुए अपनी ही चिता को राख में बदलते देख ना करु कुछ महसूस…सिवाए इस वायु के…सिवाए उस डमरू के…सिवाए तेरे शंखों की गूंज?
Writer’s Room
..sweet pungent ink, printing machines; a softer click- and wafting nicotine. One types in inspired fury, one waits for it- hanging on to hope as coats o'er the seats. Soon someone will spill a coffee too- probably chatty Cathy at table four
Once Upon A Poet
Perhaps, thenTime will tick itselfto submissionand become rain and wind and snowburied like onewith a beating heartwaiting for me to write a poemThis expanseof the sleeping white...just soRemembered thingsthe page, the ink, only a fleeting thoughtSomewhere, another muffled heart is heard, beating in the snow
Picnic
The local keepers chatted with the parrots to indulge us, but the smart birds weren’t playing. At best, we only caught a few words from one brave/silly enough to go against its mates- encouraged, I’m sure, by my glee and excitement.
Strangers On The Way
What gives you direction in life? He is in the bazaar in the afternoon heatas the soft, cool breezeAt the fun puppet showwith the joyful children manouvering the string In the crowded carnivalHe is the kind strangerensuring your safetyIn the dusty eveningby the roadside cobblerHe's making conversation At the alley of handicraftshe's the blissful winkcarved… Continue reading Strangers On The Way
An Easter Sunday carpentering miracle
What's a skill or ability you have or wish you had? I've never been the handiest one and sought help for repair work-that's the skill of which I had none (my friends have called me entitled)So imagine my fright when tonight a gale quite nearly blew apart(with not a handyman in sight!)a window someone had… Continue reading An Easter Sunday carpentering miracle
Ishaisms 
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