Where are you now My friend Oblivious to all the noise Around your boisterous life Tucked quietly In your study Spying the Miniaturist In a spurious eastern court ? Where are you now My friend Withering in pain Holding onto nothing much While the young physio Plays merrily with your broken wrist With undue attention
There seems a quiet calm Around the departure lounge As everyone is snugly settled In their own little spaces Waiting for the final goodbye Across frosted glass panels And large spaces of empty air All Contended with their final buy, of Chocolate dates, Strawberry perfumes, And blueberry malts Bought off the discount shelfs In a
For P and Q two little orange goldfishes, In a colorful Translucent bowl Life goes round and round In endless circles Of jovial delight Playing hide and seek Seek and hide, Around little shells Tirelessly Relentlessly Nibbling each other’s Gills In playful thrills Till day turns night And night day In timeless rotation They travel
Isn’t she lovely That lonely little rose Standing all by herself Swaying by the breeze Of emptiness Isn’t she pretty That singular little rose Playing all by herself Dancing to the music Of completeness Isn’t she wild That tiny little red rose Blooming all by herself Bathing in the sunshine Of white happiness Isn’t she
It’s hazy outsideAs the glass skyscrapers yawn in languid aweAnd the first streaks of broken sunshinePeeps through the distant dunesI see nothing beyondThe loneliness ahead in our lives…Running sad rivulets,Along my fading memories.But then I stare,At this adorable young lady,Sitting across my roadside table,Cross legged and fancy freeIn the spring of her youthDemurely,Sipping coffee,In slow
Is this but a feeling That often slowly Crawls right through you In slow motion of warmth Even a thousand miles apart Is this more than a feeling That rises sheepishly From deep within Never in expression Even if a million smiles together Is this all but a feeling That wipes clean Every smudge of
She came in, quietly at first in motion slow these little droplets, happily tired, erratic seemingly ecstatic, emotional, playful, then suddenly she leapt forth into larger voluminous ones, crystal shaped, round colourless, languid (it seemed as if) She cried effortlessly , relentlessly, intimately, then suddenly she quietened herself in disbelief, in relief ? but then
There he stands, singular Majestic and amphoral In a pure filter of white cosmic rays Holding nothing but A few branches of ecstasy (So like an eternal optimist in prelude ) Shielding nothing but A few shades of divine feelings ( so like the filtered streaks pouring in from the heavens far above ) and
I see through that distant prism a faint refraction of a pure indigo shun from the final coloured drops of a painters wheel of a primary bathed in Glorious glow I see beyond that optimal, in rare subtractive through the tired brushes of a finite artist’s real sublimity sitting alone, stranded by the sea, sketching
I sit quietly In patient tryst, As I inhale joyous insentient sticks Burning round circles of mystic charm, And awaiting that faint sweet aromatic aroma Of a quaint French red wine God sent, To quench my stifling thirst (And here I figit and shuffle In my firm seat of disbelief and impatience ) And the
