this happiness
this room of red
humming beautifully
through the dark
to a tailor
and ask for pants
would be to find
deep pockets
in the world
where I could go
to rest.
The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).
this happiness
this room of red
humming beautifully
through the dark
to a tailor
and ask for pants
would be to find
deep pockets
in the world
where I could go
to rest.
The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).
of 2014
June 4
I have cleaned
my house
and sit on my bed
that has freshly changed
bedsheet
and myself
bathed
in my T-shirt
looking at the world outside
in the rain
how the light has changed
so early in the morning
to something so different
I sit here searching
what is it
I wonder in my heart
and it is so beautiful
this deep valley opens up
that goes on and on
and a cock crows
and I listen to the ensuing silence
I look at the houses
yellow green blue white
but it’s mostly the smell
and the coolness
and again the cock crows
and there I go
through the streets
through the swishing vehicles
their lights blazing
reds oranges golds
and all those fluorescent streetlights
like dreams
passing by the buildings
the gardens
of forgotten days
when I would walk in my windcheater
amidst the fallen branches
on the footpath
the crushed yellow laburnum floating
in puddles
I would look up as always
at the balconies
and sometimes find someone
picking clothes from a line
how sweet that used to be
but often it was the trees
and the dripping raindrops
dazed in green
that quickly carried me away
to those spots of skylight
where I wandered on
and walked till I reached the moon.
The above poem is from my third book The Branches (2015).
the sheep are led
down the wet street
my mind is a spring
by the Parvati river
how it gushes and rushes
down the rocks
as I am
whooshed
into a thousand bleating
mountain goats
led by this little shepherdess
in medieval red
how sweet
her beautiful girl face
under her cap
and I go down the grey road
leading high up
where the mountain peaks in May are still capped in snow
and as the sun comes out you see them glow
and O I am this high Himachali wooden house
looking out my dark eye windows
my roofhead of beautiful black slate sleeping in rectangles
until that black dog in Tosh takes me
down to the waterfall
and I fall down the earth path that is steep
and I sit on a rock and I weep
and as the water forces me open
I become all sound crying
Guruji I shout tears streaming down my face
and the high Himalayan snow-capped mountaintops smile
Shakespeare I cry aloud
and the white peaks dazzle like diamonds
then a bird begins to sing its sweet long note
teeee tee teeee teeeee tee tee
tee tee too too tooooo
tee tee
just like jazz
when I find
the dog asleep
behind me
and as I turn
the sparkling hills are starting to fly
Jimmy Jimmy
I say
thank you for your help
as we shout
Jai Bholenath.