Simon Cuddlebug

Your smells of a warm winter,
a warm embrace and an icy kiss.
I love your winter flavours on my lips ––
taste of summers I do not miss.

Your cinnamon, musk smells
waft through my lungs and heart.
You say we can’t be lovers,
we are from two worlds apart.

The winter comes and goes,
sometimes lovers do return.
But, on the diaphanous wings of a moth
I place my love, for it to burn.

Because there is pure love after selfish love,
an ambrosial potion, sweetest.
And generous, golden sunshine
after tumultuous tempest. 

And so I love you, Simon Cuddlebug,
just like a child does her favorite friend.
There is only a love filled warm heart,
nothing feels broken – no more a need to mend.

And because each story needs a complete end…

On quiet nights we chase shadows,
watch a distant star.
Hold hands like children in love
while I fall in love with your eyebrow scar.

A simple love poem

Sandakphu

Love,
it never stays.
It comes unannounced though,
like a deep-cut in skin
that seeks your undivided attention,
and hurts you even in your sleep.
You pamper it and you keep it warm, dry and safe –
love is beautiful even when it’s bruised black and blue,
and sometimes bleeding,
and when it hurts.
And when it heals
you don’t want it back,
you don’t remember it.
I loved once, and I was loved
and it stayed with me like a deep cut,
seeking my attention,
and then it was gone.
On days slow such as these,
I tend to remember
a certain sweet kiss,
a tender touch,
warm gaze of eyes on my skin.
But the wounds are all healed,
and I am ready to be in love again.

Clearing clutter on a sleepless night

Sleepless

A little prayer whispered in the mind’s wakeful corners.
An experiment, flirtatious meditation
with a winter bird’s feather on my tongue.
Incense lit, it’s fumes inhaled
all the way inside, down to my gut.
Vacant eyes tracing sleep’s shadows.
But my mind’s eyes are lit
and its neuron highways buzzing
like the bullet trains in Tokyo.
Every noise amplified
every detail magnified.
It is on these nights
that memories are re-lived,
they are remade,
classified and archived, boxed,
and some trashed.

Silent song of the sky men

Mountains2
A strange winter that was.
The trees bore no fruits
the skies showed no sign of clouds.
Where have the sky-men gone?
I last saw them dance on the mountain peaks
in their cotton-seed light vessels that floated endlessly.
What a song that was
when prayer flags fluttered in the night skies.
I once saw  moon rise from behind the mountain peak
and sing sorrowful serenades to the beautiful valley.

In the city-scape filled with poles
that hold conversations about jobs and new apartments bought.
Where has the carefree noon gone?
A walk alone to where the sky-men lived
a cup of cinnamon coffee,
a winter-flavoured bidi’s warmth
and the truth about why we should live.
My sky-men,
they flew on giant inflated sails
against blue skies and floated above the clouds so high.
The lines like strings of a harp
they played a song so silent,
it floated and nestled in my heart.
I carry in my heart, silent song of the sky-men.
I carry in my palm fortunes intangible.
I carry in my heart only love songs of silence.

Your tawny little kittens

Your tawny little kittens
purring little mosaics of life
Your quartet of snuggle bugs
warming up to new life behind an old  TV set.

Peering into their basket
we watch, one and a half eyes open yet
The mother lolls insouciantly
to our two sets of leery eyes.

Your tawny little kittens

You’ve always had them around
in different sizes, colors and temperaments
Enough to match each one’s type to
a member of the family or a friend.

There’s always been cat books in your shelves
Kitten paintings on your walls
cat hair in your house
and cat poop in your beautiful garden.

There were brief seasons of no cats
but somehow a vagabond cat
always made your house its home,
a lost kitten nestled in your lap.

There’s always been the sounds of
chanting, tea boiling and a cat meowing in your house.
Your tawny little kittens
purring little mosaics of life
You’ve always had them around.

(For a dear friend, Shasha and her many cats)