I'll write you a song

You look at the sunlight

Streaming through the

Frosted glass window

And wander off to stranger lands

Faces that smile at you

Delis that serve brewed coffee

A walk on cobblestoned paths

A guy with a guitar

Humming a melancholy melody

Give me a day or two more

And I will write you a song…

Wait

I waited

For the black to fade into blue

And words to emerge

From the vagueness of the hue

I waited

For the moon to blur into the stars

And poetry to drift

From love into bloody wars

I waited

For the years to pass by

And the eternal quest to stop

To learn not to try

I waited

For sleep to take over

And the thoughts

To slowly become sober...

Khichudi

Messrs drake and hedgehog know grammar’s not for them

They fuse to be the Dredgehog, God knows how and when

The stork does call out to the turtle, “This is lots of fun

The fine Stortle guise of ours must be the greatest one”

The lizard with a parrot’s head had own reasons to brood

It hates to quit its feed of bugs and shift to fiery food

The goat did look wary with some mischief up his hooves

Astride on the scorpion, now head with body grooves

The giraffe is too fed up now of being a meadow lopper

Wants to take a flight with the wings of a grasshopper

The cow does wonder, “Am I also stricken with the flu?

My hind limbs like a rooster wants to cock-a-doodle-doo”

The Whalloth is in a terrible fix, the whale’s all for seas

The mammoth wants to have a run in the jungle breeze

The lion wanted antlers, that his distress was so great

Now the antlers grow in style with the deer as his mate

Translation from Sukumar Ray's original

cherished moment

whistling wistfully by woodland wakes

as frail old memories forsake me

a rain-full sky in the horizon nigh

with hope drenched ardor slake me

darkness drape the desolate woods

as silence shadows songbirds’ trill

the moonlit night – a splendid sight

that delightful moment time stood still 

Speech Monsters

Whimsical, rhetorical jabber

Inarticulate and annoying

Give me some soap

Need to cleanse the air

That’s thick with rant

A walk in the park

Will do some good

I thought, till the park

Was found full with

Noiseless ogres

That vomit words and

Keep the quiet away

A nap in the room?

That’s full too with

Incense that are made

Out of news anchors’

Vocal chords and reeks

Of venom from

Politicians’ white shirts

Look down, oh divinity

And let us not so

Mortal souls know

Where to run next time

The rhetoric resumes…

Paradise

Waiting in solitude for the winds to yowl

For the skies to grey, for the waves to roll

For the ship to sail away from sands

Into the depths of the distant lands

Waiting for days, waiting for years

In this land of endless tears

For the rain to pour, for the oceans to rise

For the soul to find its paradise

Far flies the seagull into the skies

The wind echoes its mournful cries

Far sails the row boat in the seas

A tune comes floating in the breeze

Far is the lighthouse standing tall

Against an age old rocky wall

Waiting lonesome with tearful eyes

For the soul to find its paradise

The waiting invokes the gods of hell

Down comes the rain, the oceans swell

The forests howl, the waves galore

Lightning strikes with a thunderous roar

The boats capsize, the seagulls fall

The lighthouse crumbles against the wall

And as the satanic forces rise

The soul does find its paradise

Home

When the light faded

Did you call me home?

The drawn down curtains

On the glass windows

The yellow lights beyond

Shadows lurking

I couldn’t cry

I heard your call

On the worn down driveway

The gravel was stained

In red?

My knees hurt…

Did I miss something?

A soft bed

A heated room

A hot shower

Did I ask for those?

I looked back at the meadow

The grass was still green

But fading to black

The butterflies still fluttered

But tired

The flowers withered

But my dreams still lay

Within the valley

Of fears

Within the womb

Of tears

My dream beckoned

I did not look back

And came home

To love unconditional

But lost out on

Life.

Paranoia

Listen to the whistling songbirds lore

You feel nothing is wrong anymore

And yet on the whiteness of the snow

Can’t miss the signs of blood and gore

The quaintness in its blissful charm

Reassures there is no fear of harm

And yet comes floating with the wind

Voices wailing in frightened alarm

The sunshine sifting through the mist

Paints a picture of paramours’ tryst

And yet hidden in its alluring grace

Dark, deathly threats quietly exist

The stream flows into the wilderness

With a promise of a soothing caress

But within its sparkling water lies

A stealthy sinuous venomous mess

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Wanderer

Wailing wanderer without a clue

Wafting dreams long overdue

Wallowing in the morning dew

Whistling wistful melodies in rue

Magical moments lost in time

Memories do mournfully chime

Mirthful mystics talk sublime

Mulling over what must be true

Paths pondered, tread abreast

Passions partaken in all zest

Parables pruned in eternal quest

Piqued paramours bid adieu 

Slight of sight

Through the window pane

A dusty town to see

That enthrals the mundane

And drown in reverie

Tender memories fly

In a hesitant mood

Flooding grey skies

In desolation brood