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Happy Diwali

Fiery streaks fill the sky with light.

Plates full of sweet and savoury delights.

Rangoli made near the door

And twinkling bulbs which you adore

In the breeze oil diyas flicker

Status updates on Facebook and Twitter

Loud crackers that go bang and boom

Incense sticks give out their holy fume.

As Lakshmi blesses you and your loved ones

With health and prosperity in the times to come.

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The Union…

Seasons have flown away,

And he waits with wishful eyes,

Gazing at the ashen skies,

Each moment of each day.

*

She lingers in a misty cage,

Between the heaven and earth,

Trying to free her stifled mirth,

Which roars in steaming rage.

*

Voila! She finds the door ajar,

And out she comes with glee,

Now she can almost see,

Her love, which once seemed so far.

*

The rain drop gently hits the soil,

And caresses his parched face,

Glued by a tight embrace,

Passion begins to boil.

*

Light cracks in heaven above,

The sky in wonder shouts,

The first blade of green grass sprouts,

And consummates their love.

Rants of a Seven Year Old….

Each day when I open my eyes,

And look at the nosey sunrise,

Mom forces me to pray, otherwise,

I get a smack on my head.

But is God really that good?

Like Peter Pan and Robin Hood?

Does he do what he really should?

I have my serious doubts.

The other day I went out to play,

In the fields where sunflowers sway,

Just then he hit me with a spray,

The dude was really mean!

First he paints his flowers red,

That seem so happy and well fed.

But then he makes them brown and dead.

The guy is so confused!


Don’t you think God is one of us?

Just a slob like one of us,

Just a stranger on the bus,

Trying to make his way home.

Shared at:  Carry on Tuesdays

Photo Frame…

A silent photo frame,

In which promises abound.

A memory lost in the labyrinth of time,

A smile hidden in the lost years,

A tear soaked in a silent hour,

Everything can be found.


A silent photo frame,

In which voices resound.

A laughter that echoes in mountains vast,

A whisper that utters a  silent prayer,

A song that makes the lovers dance,

Everything can be found.

Oh! Patrick, Can you Hear the Rain Fall?

I’ve seen so many Fridays on a dry April night,

When through the verdant mesh,

Moonlight filters, pure and bright.

It flirts with the night lilies,

Plants a kiss that lends a sheen.

The silent, somber oaks.

Get a hue that’s so pristine. 

But today the sinful clouds,

Have formed patches, large and small,

Oh! Patrick, Can you hear the rain fall?


Even the neighbours’ children who play their raucous game

Have mellowed down.

Do you know whom should we blame?

The old couple next door,

That hears the radio soliloquize

Seems to talk to the diamond drops.

Their comrades in a liquid guise.

The infant that lives upstairs,

Competes with nature with her bawl.

Oh! Patrick, can you hear the rain fall? 


All animals that reposed under the star-lit sky.

Have been banished from their shelter.

Need we wonder why?

The home-ward bound canorous birds, 

Don’t sing their soothing note.

But the agile and jocund toads,

With pride and glory, bloat.

The tiny,  short-lived insects,

Seem to love their frenzied crawl.

Oh! Patrick, can you hear the rain fall?

Bloom…

I walk along the silken street,

Laced with trees, mighty tall.

Where purple petals kiss your feet,

Little feathers, light and small.

They drink the venomous heat away.

Their shade so cool and calm.

And to the song of life they sway,

A sweet and fragrant balm.

The morning dew on their  bloom resides,

Shimmering at the crack of dawn.

Between their branches cuckoo hides,

Calling out to those who’re gone.

With their warmth and sprightly dance,

They set the street ablaze.

I find myself in a drunken trance,

Enchanted by their hue and grace

But now their lively bloom’s no more,

Their branches are nude and bare.

Gone is their fragrant charm and lure,

At a barren mass I stare.

The fiery eyes of Helios,

Cast a silent, sultry look.

The thirsty leaf of the undergrowth bows,

Like the curling edge of a worn-out book.


The morning dew has no place to lie,

On the dry, cracked ground it spills.

The cuckoos to their homeland fly,

With silence my heart fills.

Like soldiers stripped of  their honour badge,

Like peacocks without their plume,

They stand without their foliage,

And wait for next year’s bloom.


God’s Own Colour…

God's own colour

Gleaming emeralds

On a delicate new bride.

The fragile leaves that waltz

To the music of the wind.

The verdant plains

Where lovers dance.

Feline eyes

That pierce the darkest nights.

Sea weeds that sway

In the beds of the oceans vast.

Charmed toads

That pine for the royal kiss.

Mystic jade

That can cast a spell.

Oasis in the sands.

Hope of life.

A colour that soothes our hearts, our eyes.

An artist’s muse

A farmer’s delight.

Indeed it is the Colour of God…


[Picture of a plant outside my new apartment. It is so delightfully green. I just couldn’t stop myself from writing a poem]