Yesterday Mist Covered The Mountains

after the rain

you could not see them

cows are very peaceful

I like them

like their moo

life is full of change

everyday there’s something

making you different

causing you good

causing you harm

and you see the mountains today

how green they are

how carefree

the trees living their own life

and here I am slowly recovering

from my illness

like some white cloud withered like cotton

I have to live

the birds twitter all the time

so sweetly

and my life here

so different

yet so connected we are

partaking of each other everyday

I realise

and the blue sky

I thank for letting my mind fly

and gathering these words

as we pass by.

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I Have Been Collecting My Thoughts

day by day

without fail

but they all

seem the same

the same old room

the same old sun

the same old buildings hum

I think I’ll be mum

rather than some dull drum

but my mind keeps pushing me

and I go from room to room

and keep forgetting myself over and over

in the morning

in the afternoon

in the grey evening light before night

when birds circle frantically in the blue

I coo

O sky fall

do not stay there so sombre

let me rise

rise and rise

unrestrained.

 

The above poem is from my second book Circling the Sky (2013).

Cows Were Grazing

on the grass

of the teak forest floor

outside my window

it was very peaceful

last evening

now after this morning’s rain

the trees and hills shimmer green

with sunlight

yesterday a monkey came

and was looking at me

I look at myself

slowly recovering

from my illness

in the afternoon

the women

in the house opposite mine cackle

the sky is so beautiful

there are so many colours

orange blue white pink golden grey black

and yesterday

a  woodpecker

yellow body red mane

constantly pecked at my window

like it wanted to say something

now the sky

is blue

and white clouds slowly move

across it

light seeps through the leaves of the trees

I am not alone

so many birds are twittering

and they are all saying hello.

Thoughts

I am a quiet man

I have imaginary conversations with no one

All day my moods shift like waves on a beach

Speaking of the beach I love the sky and birds

I love the buildings of Bombay the sight of lit windows at night

Sometimes my mind gets charged with murderous thoughts

Making me sink like a dead animal’s skeleton in sludge

I hate crowds and noise if it’s hot I sweat a lot

When I was younger my hands and feet would get chilled in the evenings

A boring book can send me into dim despair

Amidst trees I am sad and gloomy amidst mountains and breeze serene

I love to watch sunlight on things

They become magical they take me to my childhood

If I can’t dream it’s death

I love taxi journeys bus-rides

Trains I love their sonorous horn at dawn

I love elephants

I love to watch large white clouds move slowly across the sky

When I get stuck I burn away in anger

When I see glowing streetlights snaking along the road I am lit up a 100 lifetimes over

I become a traffic policeman

I become a prostitute

I become a telephone operator

I become a waiter

I become a stray dog

I become a beggar

I become a magistrate

I become a window pane

I become a local train

I become an aeroplane

I become the falling rain.

 

The above poem is from my second book Circling the Sky (2013).

Perspective

She stood before her gods

dazed like a zombie

the mountains are calm

outside my house

they flow in that zigzag path

and the trees are there listening

“goddess” she cried out

and that patch of houses

is glorious

in the valley below

we cannot understand

white and green

standing in the branches

so pretty

the suffering

it must be painful

let me go let me go she screamed

she thought she was 34

I look at that bald patch of brown

in the mountains

you cannot believe anything

I know

my move here

still the hills and the darkness

hold me in their arms

each night

and the birds come

and peck at my window

their red hoods

their yellow and brown bodies

and the squirrels run in the teak forest outside

we are torn and stitched together somehow

the calm in the mountains

will go with the clouds

but I will hold your hand.

There Are Some Open Spaces

where you can be

preferably on a rock under a tree.

 

The vehicles in the distance you will barely hear

the old buildings across are dead and dear.

 

And as the rhymes you read open your mind

you look up at the sky calm and quiet.

 

There you see the endless white flowing

also perhaps one or two birds flying.

 

Now the day darkens and you feel

one with the trees one with the breeze

and you begin to walk home

one with the streets.

 

Shops and shoppers,

vegetables and vendors

gladden your eye.

 

Streetlight and headlight

brighten the night.

 

 

The above poem is from my second book Circling the Sky (2013).

See If I Fall

deep down into a ravine

I have no fear

I have been falling into ravines

for years

now I like the excitement

the speed at which the earth flies

it is all rock and air

and from inside the earth

the chanting the singing

deep inside some cave I think it is

I don’t know

I’m not sure

but there is such music

your mind will merge

with everything there is

in the universe

and the bells will ring

with such beauty and clarity

you will become air

I tell you this is such an experience

your heart has never known

such quietness such calm

there will be no night no day

there will be no colour

perhaps just blue at the beginning

and then nothing

and now the sea approaches

you know this by now reader

it is so familiar

from so many years ago

open your arms

and greet your old friend

O joy my heart will

take my life

from my tongue

and we will meet

and greet

each other

once again

with a splash.

I Could Not Stand Up

not even

to my knees

there were words

so heavy

my head knocked

against the street constantly

I did not want to go on

but if I stopped

nerves burst through

my body

and my back cracked

so I stumbled on.

 

Out of nowhere

the music began to play

the notes slow

I saw the sea

and as I started

to stand up straight

through the mist

several skyscrapers rose.

 

 

The above poem is from my second book Circling the Sky (2013).

How Strangely We Are Built

our bodies our minds

and that strange

is the world too

beautiful and bad

nature and therefore we

are like that

our greatnesses

our stupidities

mercy mercy

peace happiness

joy I want

I wail and wail

like a child

calm I want

calm I want

to be

and that jazzbird

has arrived

and finally it is nearing dawn

and that wonderful

bird is playing

its horn

twee twee

tweuhuhuihhhu

it goes on for long

there is so much

and so beautiful

it knows it’s playing

and the music it is making

it raises its volume now

it is welcoming the sun

in its own language

it is blowing out the meaning

of its life

complicated

the gaps the turns

the stops

and now it goes back to its first note

wow what a musician

how it blows

and the trees and everyone is listening

to the jazzbird

playing another variation

now

I too should just stop writing

and listen

and now a whistler bird

is blowing its sweet long whistle louder

and the jazzbird is in the background

nature is showing its sonic parade

it is celebrating in the morning

the birds are at least

because they are the happiest

only they can fly.

The Watchman

sat under the mango tree

on a blue tin chair

tapping his stick

on the ground

in the afternoon.

 

Across the road

a cream Fiat slept

in its rusted garage

in the shadow

of a faded

yellow building.

 

The white sky

burned in

complete silence.

 

 

The above poem is from my second book Circling the Sky (2013).