#St Mary's Island

if u are inspired enough :http://www.ourkarnataka.com/states/udupi/stmarysislands.htm


Its like an island from the books
Of my childhood,
full of mystery
Mystery with happy endings
An island from the thick of dreams
Untouched beauty
One harsh whisper of the night
And I would awake
And loose
This island to the winds of sleep
Clean sands one thought
when I lighted on her shores
But then it was broken bits of shells
On wet feet.
And I was like a child confused
For to walk on corpses,
however pretty Is rude.
So I plunged into the water
And floated on my back
And soon I was feeling a light easy laughter
On my lips I think the sea took in my little troubles
And set me free.
For Now.
Then I lay on the rocks
And the sky was a quiet pensive blue
And threw back my musings
Like a mirror to my thoughts
And the indigo sea.
The sea wasFrothy white when she met my toes
shimmering flakes of golden sand a little further
And then she looked blue like the sky
She was a brooding inky around boulders
And sapphire after that.
I wouldn’t stop there
Because she was a lot of other colors too.
And I felt I was lucky that I could see
A lot of colors togetherI think I’ve grown wise
For I don’t know the color of the sea now.
For when I was youngerI thought foolishly that she was only blue
And never could see another point of view.
The rocks on the island had a sense of humour
They were Hexagonal and linear for no reason
I didn’t want any scientific reasons
Lets just say there’s still magic
And that we could be anything in this little island
Say , a mermaid too.
And so for the rest of the evening
I was a mermaid on the funny rocks
I watched roguish beach football
Wet lissome women, and ecstatic children
For Its nice to see people happy for a change

#dying blossoms

pink paperthin blosoms of the May
add something to my busy mornings

falling flowers
no purpose whatever
add cheer
to vacant thougths.

i need to fall down with the dying blossoms
gently without noise
on undisturbed earth
still fragrant
unobstructive
and lie quietly
dead
without smudges
melting slowly
on life's sweet canvas

#but

but
the full moon waxes and wanes
and her round basket of white celestial light
grows light


the mango tree in your backyard
fruit laden,
is torn from her bounty
in one whooshing of the wind

have you been blessed enough
to have jasmine creepers outside your window
heavy and drooping with the whitest blossoms
one moment you are in indira's court
for heaven visits your window
before your bough is shaken bare

why should i talk of the moon
or friut laden trees
and jasmine boughs?
when your womb brims
over
and you too bleed


nature pulls out

like we dry our wells
of murky water

and so please let me leave
behind these little joys
let me shed my fruit
swaying to the breeze

for unless we give our most precious
and mourn and bleed and
be empty now
and give
new branches will never sprout

nature cant ever stack

#shifting

i dont want to give up my
orange window curtains
they are pale, their colour run out
still i recollect
one rainy day i bought them
home and hung them in the drawing room
and the naughty things
they did to the simple sun streaming in
i want to keep my dining table
and my stainless steel thalis
i want my coffee mugs
yeah one is blue and another green
but they are mine
i picked them
i keep them
now you tell me we have to shift homes
and i have to leave behind our matresses
the ones our children wet
as infants
and my creaky cupboards
i want my kitchen
with my dosa mix all risen
and coconut shells
i want that round musty carpet
its got patches here and there
but i bought it as a new bride
i want my blue glass vase and
the drooping plastic flowers
i want to carry the lawn gone wild
and my washing stone
i want that place under stairs
where i keep all my slippers
i want to hold on to the worn out cushions
with some their little mirror work gone

#the sky

nowadays the sky
has my father's face
towering above me
with his goodness and clean sanity
looking down at me
a trifle impatient
trying to hide his fondness
asking me constantly
so what have you done
with yourself?
i cant blame him
33 years of quiet belief
patient love
his precious hand on
my head
burning blessings into
my thick skull


papa, your day dreams
have climbed
out of your window
have flown across
the green fields
hitch hiked over the hills
have climbed
atop kind clouds
and now they make the sky.
the endless sky
is your face
and i walk timid under the shadow of your love

#tissue paper love

And some of us use
People who love us
Like tissue paper
Hold them for a while
And bring them close
Enough to feel our breath
And with a violence wipe our
Mouths
And clean our hands
Crumple them whole
And leave them
Broken and stained
But waiting among the
Used cutlery.