In a tea stall arranging the seats
Like a crescent moon
And talk like a parrot
Over anything on this earth
As I wanted to be eloquent
Like the presidents of USA
Or the prime ministers of Great Britain
In my graduation
I read many times
The essay on ‘friendship ‘
Written by Francis Bacon
Where he argued
The man who lives in solitude
Is either a God or a wild beast
As I was neither of the two
I liked to have many friends
And fully I enjoyed their friendship
None of them is dead
Still I am surrounded with them all
But slowly they have changed their minds
And I have developed an aversion
Towards unnecessary chatting and talks
The sound the din they produce
Can not go any more hand in hand
With the demand of my creativity
So I shut my mouth and choose to live
Like either a God or beast
In seclusion, in solitude.

Similar Posts

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

and lived in a different country.
I used to go into the back garden
and sit on my swing.
Rocking back and forward
I used to gaze up in the sky
and watch the Daks flying
across an unmolested sky
on a sunny afternoon.
2 March 2008
Author’s note:
Dak is an abbreviation for the Douglass Dakota Aircraft.

Similar Posts

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

my eyes exploring everything I saw
and filed it away in my memory store.
Now as I’ve got older
those insignificant things
come back to me now and then.
They fill my life with sanity
when I think I’m going around the bend.
Some of those things
I incorporate in whatever I write.
A touch of nostalgia
for others who remember them as well.
28 April 2008

Similar Posts

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

I thought I was no-one;
when I was still
I thought myself empty;
Now I am older
and become silent
I am everyone;
when I am still,
I am full.
*
[leaning on Kabir’s ‘ghar ghar dipak barai’]

Similar Posts

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Thought peaceful words
Could change,
Most everything
Teaching understanding,
Knitting souls together
Would better many things,
But truth and understanding
Will not in deaf ears, ring.
Now that I am older
I know, good words
Don’t mean a thing,
We go round and round,
Word waltzing,
Complicating everything
Not really changing
Anything!
As blind and deaf
As Always,
So once more,
And running out of time,
Let the useless games
Of slippery words
Begin,
Won’t change a thing!

Similar Posts

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *