ME AND THE SEA 

I looked and watched sea in all its glory, 

I thought I heard it speaking.

Slightest murmur and faint rush beneath the stillness, 

Stillness of the bay, as it lay constrained in its 

Temporary straight jacket, 

Not hospital white, but a slick purple black, 

As if dyed for disguise. 

It spoke but without a mouth or tongue or voice 

Like a terror stilled face, 

Like a burn.

But at sunrise the sea was signal

The burnished surface of a God composed of multitudes of

Shining bee-stung eyes. 

Dawn comes and goes 

like a woman rising from her bed 

And then returning, 

The bed-linen softening with the 

Constant downpour of love and its

Eternal nectar and dreams, and 

Those orgasmic sighs and sweat-laden pants. 

daylight like a pox mark 

Where rocks lie like road-side beggars, 

So publicly exposed. 

And at night there’s the moon’s brightness 

Siphoned off by the shore lights as if 

Sickening.

 he low roofs of the tattered beach shacks, 

Poised as hunches that don’t spring. 

That won’t ever, 

 ver spring while a light fluorescence 

Of municipal lights.

Spreads beneath the landscape of a

Beautiful village, a colour of 

Deep green water, 

Water of the sea

YOU ARE FARAWAY!

I still remember I saw you last

Walking, hand-in-hand

On the sun-drenched roads of mud and tar.

I can not forget the shiver and the sigh of

That pair of panthers mating in full public view.

Privacy for them is a thing of wild,

They are not what they used to be,

They are caged, they are beasts.

But what about we, the civilized beasts?

Summer this time parched my throats and thoughts,

Dried up like parched twigs arching its

Leafless fingers towards the sun and trying to

Slave the sun and its fire

To drag it down to my feet!

A scorching heat crept on my belly and

Whitening bones and drained face.

I sigh and pant in the pool of

Loneliness and seclusion.

You are far away but still close to my heart.

How somebody can remind me your face

As round as a freshly harvested apple

And dew drops moistening those fluffy and round eyes

Often you call it beauty sleep!

Often I wonder why it seems that my summer will

Never end.

Even the crows utter its eternal suffering

Only when the sun collapses deep down in the

Faraway sky and only when

The uneasy night floats over and over

Stifling me into a suffering

Restless being.

THAT AFTERNOON WINDBLOWN

A mountain came to my feet on

That afternoon windblown.

People, old-timers, elders say

Mountains never move but

Only wind blows;

But never ever in my dream

I saw mountain moving

And touching my feet.

A miracle or a dream never conceived.

I vividly remember that

Puzzled and astonished look of mine;

It was writ large on the face

And plump plumes turned purple,

Limbs shivering in search of

That old rhythm and beat

Carrying with a deep and

Invincible forest full of silt-sand.

Such was the fury of that mountain

On that afternoon, and

Everybody had on their lips

One and only one word to chant

Peace !

My Lord,

Peace!