Surreptitious movements of the clouds

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Squint and you will discover
blue islands in orange-red flaming oceans.
The deceptive breaking of tides
is her stretching her naked limbs
as she wakes up from a lazy slumber.
A fusion of eclectic behaviour of dream patterns
created such projections
of the most vibrant of colours
those that rose from the depths of these strange oceans.
She was a purple green creature
who lived beneath these tidal waves
while he took flights in the pristine air above.
Tiny red hyperopia circles on the surface,
these oceans keep an eye on
the surreptitious movements of the clouds.
19.03.2013
(Photo by David Maisel~ Library of Dust)

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Silent song of the sky men

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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)

Tuned in to you

When you are tuned in to bird sounds, you hear them even midst cacophony of wheeled, smoke-spewing monsters. In a bumper to bumper traffic I heard a barbet call, clear and loud. It isn’t the loveliest of bird sounds but it massaged my aching heart. Barbet, I am tuned in to you. 45 degrees tilt of the head and the world is so much more charming.

I was at my parents’ house in a quaint little, quiet town. I didn’t just see birds, I stalked them there. I exaggerate not, but some magic has happened since then and it is very special. For instance, one morning I said to myself that I wanted to see a new, bigger bird – and two minutes later into that manifestation, an Indian Grey Hornbill flew right in front of my eyes. She perched on a beautiful Amaltash tree, and I ran to confirm. It was indeed her!

My mother said to me that evening, that considering how much I love birds and spend time watching them, perhaps I will be a bird in next life. I asked her, “Will you keep water for me every day.” “Of course,” she said.