Cranes, storks and herons

The artist as a young man notBut an old man,Seasoned and colourfulGoing with the time,Clutching age and ageingHe striding alongKhushwant Singh the man and the artistSketch I,The SardarjiIn the turban and the pyjamasWith the specs over the face,Doing the talks so much in glee and spirits,A novelist and a short story writer,An essayist and a…

But novels interested me notAs I could not them patiently,Giving so many hours of busy life.But when came you from the U.N.O. headquarters,You opting for Sunanda Pushkar after a stormy affair,I thought the things settled quite amicablyBut again came you in the newsWith the Tweeter messaging.Is to marry and divorce the work of the great,I…

Your songs,Songs of renunciation,There is nothing your wonNor is anything mine,O Baul, Baul stinging the instrument,you came here wit noting,I too came here with nothingAnd both of us will go to without anything,O Baul,Baul Khepa!

Rearing,Growing with experiencesThat life taught you,In harsher conditions of life,Working in various capacities,We talk about,Talk about,Carl Sandburg,Your life and poetry,Your free-verse style,Your booksWe do remember,YourChicago Poems,Your biography of Abraham Lincoln,Your anthologyAmerican Songbag!

Poor and love-lorn,Broken and tornAnd here lie I aching with the pain of mine,Whom to say to,All about love,The heart of a loverly manAnd it goes aching and aching and I in searchOf finding some hemlockBy putting the palm on the heartTrying to console and bandage my broken self.

And the teardrops falling offAnd she wiping out with her hands?Say, say you, asked she, holding the handsOf the stranger,Will you,Will you not leave me and go away,Will you not leave and go away?Tears had been in the eyes of hersAnd I could not see them,Wetting me,Cursing my lotAnd I looking heavenwardsIn utter confession,Opening my…