crimson rain

if i had that choice
would have asked eve
to keep her apple

crimson rain

silences - pregnant, tranquil
silences - to revel or marvel
rivers, mounts and vales
of silences to cross
and crossing those silences
succumbing to the silence
of the heart

silence - a sky
that has put all the clouds
in a cosmic closet

wonder who shepherds
the clouds in or out

who are you a voice asked
am a wandering cloud
oh! why are you not chained
and in the cloud-house
am on a furlough
following my shadow
over vales and mounts
i like you
you are not raining crimson
thank you, am not one of them
who have cornered the truth

dancing azrael*

"nobody runs for ever"-Mahajirzadeh

they talk in amman
they talk in london
they talk in paris
they talk in riyadh
they talk in washington
till jaws creak
meanwhile azrael* dives
from the clouds of crimson silence
to embrace children, women, men

ensconced in consuming silence
i wish they stop all talks
__of peace__of ceasing hostilities
let them run out
of ammunition, hatred, arrogance
passion___________and rockets
like boxers past their prime
seeking refuge of the bell
they will cease by themselves

that would be the time
to talk with them
about pains, hurt and living

Azrael (ăz'rāĕl) [Heb.,=help of god], in the Qur'an, angel of death, who severs the soul from the body. The name and the concept were borrowed from Judaism.

in puzzled amazement: meh'v e hairaan

for zen - a gift of sorts

meh'v e hairaan - I
lines on her anile face
a map of seasons past
cobweb of memories
rise, submerge, contort, fade

gnarled chins, scabrous hands
nose thick and bloated
crescent wrinkled eyes
and furrowed forehead

in the south, of the north
she'd be on a rocker
knitting in the porch
of a rockwell painting

at dolman's mall, bent
and shrouded in rags
she stared in my eyes
and i was perplexed

***

conversation:
z: is it done
t: yes
z: write a sequel
t: sequel?
z: i wonder what the beggar lady was thinking at that moment
t: you want me to get into her mind?...don't know...in all likelihood she was unread and unlettered
z: don't be so sure. when i was going to university at Canterbury, we had this panhandler...not only was he extremely well read, but could also write poetry
t: hmmm
z: put yourself in her mind at that moment, see what emerges
t: hmmmmm

***

in puzzled amazement - II
abducted, abused and abandoned
street and time my teachers, am adept
at seeing through the burkas and beards

he was not local and in his demeanor
could tell that he could sit on a charpoy
and share food with workers and servants
and still be at ease
in the nasreen room, the copper kettle

in the parked car he sat and observed
people, shoppers, passers by , children
as if through his eyes he soaked his soul

and when the woman beside him smiled
jolted out of reveries he'd mumble
deep affection then displacing the hint
of somberness as i observed him
before i approached him silently
with open palms and when our eyes clashed
tried but could not decipher his poise

Top Ten Terrorist Pick Up Lines

10: I spoke with Osama's twin Bush bin Lyin' yesterday.*
9: Can we smoke after this?
8: You are more beautiful than the ToraBora lamb!
7: No, I am not a virgin.
6: Unbelievers have more fun. Try me!
5:. I am a camel-high** club member. Are you?
4: Promises, promises, promises, pro......
3: We behead painlessly: nobody has complained.
2: Your tower or my tower?
or 2A: Your camel or my camel?
1: You want to see my Pilot's License?

* thanks saks!
** a take on mile-high club
*** and thanks dee for the inspiration

glass half full or...

the day is sultry
even after three showers in five hours
the mugginess crawls and permeates
the shirts, the air, the skin
all thirsts become one
and that sweating bottle
fetched from the fridge beckons
come hither, come hither...
(no enemy but heat and humidity!)

thoughts of M and the cabana by the sea
the ceaseless run of waves on the shore
that chalet an hour's hike from the road
with a view of the lake through the trees
me standing on the dadar* platform
and over-laden thought-trains cruising by
my son and his noncommittal girl friend
the other son and his budding friendships
my jaan's quest for meaning in a meaningful life
the glint of expectations in transient eyes
expected politeness from strangers
unexpected grimaces from intruders

have prided myself on half-full outlook
as i plod through fate's offerings
and in this stickiness as i temptingly
probe the trickling tears of(f) the bottle
am stumped to find no glass nearby

dedicated to nf - for losing the bet

*dadar is a local station in mumbai

Converfession: Heart to Heart

In Ashes to Ashes Jay wrote:

Some events are beyond comparison, without measure, some events cannot be understood by others, no matter how they try.
Love
Death
Happiness
Terror?

I agree that from an individual perspective we do have our personal interpretation. But wordsmiths paint pictures with words. They are blessed with the tools - insights and communication skills that enable them to decipher for themselves and their readers - convey the sentiment, the sensation, the feelings of happiness, despair and awe. Using their skills they grab the attention of the willing reader on this roller-coaster journey - from the the zenith of emotions to the nadir of despair and other stops on the way.

Hence when you argue so passionately and eloquently from your vantage point, please allow me to take a look from a different perch.

Love

What is so elusive and furtive about an individual's love that others cannot understand? Along with death, love is one of the most discussed, analyzed and written about emotions: metaphors and examples abound. And past masters have used their communication skills to share with us this intense emotion in tales of Laila-MajnooN, Shirin-Farhad, and Romeo-Juliette. Don't think I can accuse those writers of 'imperfect metaphors, images or descriptions.' What is so unique about the fast heartbeats when lovers exchange glances that cannot be conveyed to others?

The masters have shown love in the escaping sigh: in the coquettish smile of the maiden: in the increasing dhuk dhuk of the heart: in the grim expectations of descending doom: in the 'U' turns in life: in the unexpected emergence of paths: in the ever so slight brushing of lover's fingers: in the furtive first kiss; in the last leave-taking kiss on the forehead, in the fluttering of birds. What gamut, what threshold, what sublimity, what facet of love has been left unexplored and hidden from these wordsmiths?

Pain, Sadness, Happiness

Yes I cannot feel the exact invisible pain that unleashes the river of tears in your eyes. But I can relate to that pain because in the past many have written excellent passages and essays depicting the sense of injustice, pain, neglect, hurt or loss of those who undergo similar experiences. Did you not share Rohan's pain?

To borrow from Jao Beta:

jao

jana hay tou jao
yaadouN maiN qaid
khaabouN ki maanind
waq't ki lehrouN per
bikhar-jao
mooskurah-hatouN kay paimaanouN ka
mauj-e-beh'r-e shauq ka
dil maiN mehfooz lamhouN ka
sheeraza bikhair dou
jana hay tou jao
..........................chalay jao.

kitab-e-dil kay safha-e-aakhir pay
kiya raq'm hay, maa'loom hay humaiN
kuh'r-e-oodaasi maiN leh'r-e-gham
phir ik baar hum aaghosh hogi
chund sa'atouN kay liyay
ya a'bud kay liyay
shayad....

go

leave, if you must
like fond dreams
imprisoned in memory cells
vanish with the waves,
dissolve
---the promises of Smiles
ignore
---the waves from the Ocean of Love
melt away
---those moments ensconced in the heart
go, if you must
................leave.

on the last page of Book of Heart
what is writ large we know,
pensive mist will embrace
the waves of sadness, yet again
for moments few
or forever
perhaps...

The shade of red is subjective I admit, but the murmur of that heartbeat is a universally shared and narrated experience.

Death, Terror, Mayhem

Yes, we may not know the true depth of that father's anguish seeing the bloodied shoes of his son on the idiot box the next day. Or the parents on either side of the divide in Sarajevo who zoom in on the bodies of their children, in a final embrace, lying in the middle of the square separating the warring factions. Or the frozen look in the mother's eyes, in the crowded bazaar, who identifies the little hand clutching a doll as her daughter's.

Their pains, their sighs, platitudes, vows, their separation anxiety, their faith in meeting again, their last embrace - all have been written about and felt by the readers and viewers. So much has been written about the loss of near ones, that we can come very close to sharing those feelings universally.

Despair, Intensity, Hopelessness

Despair (sound of hope trickling away), emotive intensity (volume of tears), hopelessness (sensation of life collapsing) are rhetorical musings that have been eloquently shared for posterity in the past also.

The father you mentioned feels a vacuum. All of us have felt similar voids at some point. Writers have expressed it. They can relate to him and in turn so can we.

They come darn near close to experiencing your love, death, happiness, terror - about the only thing thing that eludes those wordsmiths is the shape of hope in the flutters of your heart beat.

Let me borrow from Beta Chala Gaya

aitraaf

humaiN rona hee tou
nahiN aata hay
qatra, aaNsoo ka ban'na
kis kad'r mushkil hay
ma'aloom na tha
qatra, gohar-e-miz'gaaN ka
lakh motiyouN say keemti
ban'na nahiN aata.

bun gaya woh qatra gar maiN
to wa'ada raha tap'kooN ga
---maaN ki palkouN say
---khaamoshi say dhalouN ga
teri bund aankhouN kay kinarouN say
---dostouN, azeezouN ki chasm-e-pur num
bun kar chamkouN ga
---ik bay awaaz aah kay saath
her chahti aank ko ashk-bar kardouN ga
yeh wa'ada raha...

confession

wish i knew
how to cry.
do not know
how difficult it is
to create a droplet of tear.
droplet --- diamond delivered by eyelids
rare, precious, and so impossible
to create for me.
if i ever succeed
promise you, i will
---stream down mother's face
---roll down silently out of the corners
of your shut eyes
---will glisten on the moistened eyes
of friends, relatives
---with inaudible sighs
will caress all caring eyes
promise you, i will...

Heart to heart, I would say I understand your anguish. I understand the pain of losing loved ones in despicable acts of violence that are hard to fathom. And, with you and millions of others I do not understand the mind-set that inflicts such destruction. The misuse of ideology, religion, hurt, deprivation and disenfranchisement baffles - singly and collectively. My mind fails to relate to how a young kid of yesteryears can turn into a brainwashed adult of today, willing to part with that most unique of gifts - life. Even though a loss of any life is a loss of life, perhaps, I might reconcile it somehow if these brainwashed take only their own life. But when they cause innocent deaths it is extremely perplexing.

Am glad you gave me this opportunity to share my thoughts with you.

edhi's dawn

as the lids gingerly parted
they ushered in the new light
and sounds - cooing and crowing
winds rustling leaves
children noisily playing
a wailing ambulance
stuck in traffic somewhere

baba had made tea and placed
yesterday's news beside it
both tasted the same
tea fresh and soothing
the news, stale and ominous
death, misery and destruction
mixed with pompous declarations
and righteous indignation
all eating into crying trees

baba does not read papers
nor does edhi
both have work to do
from sunrise to sunset
and when they are exhausted
(their work is never finished)
they sleep fitfully

while self-burdened with assumptions
we wonder about lambs and stars
as the skies turn crimson, dark
and then orange

if we cease reading and listening
to the half-baked convictions
and begin to clean and wash
- a clean utensil, a clean dead body
we may stumble upon a new threshold

converfession - Buying that

the following is from the era when i was in a learning phase (correction: still am!) where i had to share my bed ... on a regular basis ... with M...

(at the pharmacy)

t: i wonder where you carry that?
(the pharmacist looks at me quizzically, first through his glasses, then measures me again looking over the lens, and i think he shook his head slightly)
p: what kind?
t: emmm...er.....emmm
p: latex, lambskin or polyurethane?
t: (damn - how'd i know?)...can you please guide me to the shelf?
p: (i think he had a sly smile) it is behind the counter, so what'll it be?
t: (what was that brand name she mentioned?) errr...emmm...can you please show me one of each?
p: ok. what size?
t: size?
p: yes they come in different sizes, colors, textures.
t: is there a normal size?
p: yes. what flavour will that be?
t: flavour? (that damn prince charles' confession was about THIS?)
p: cherry, blackberry, rose petal....
t: (this is verging on the insane. she should have accompanied me) is there a plain, non-flavour one?
p: yes. do you want one coated with Nonoxynol-9 or an uncoated one?
t: (damn i should have gone to college) coated please.
p: straight, fitted, or flared?
t: (wtd is he talking about- this is worse than defending a thesis) straight.
p: normal or rear intrusive?
t: are we asking about er...that?
p: yes we are talking about condoms.
t: (sigh of relief) no sir, i want them...er...emmmm...paddings?
p: ah, sanitary napkins! that will be aisle 4

(what happened at aisle 4 is for another time)

israfil and yama smile

mental indigence
a punctuation mark
a perdition milepost

jelly fish gulped
eagle picked off prey
insect crushed
under blinded chappals
homage to nature, but when
angels singled and singed
in post-coitus after thoughts
israfil and yama
the gods of after-life
smile at allah and bhagwan

dizzy spirals
of prickly thoughts whirlpool
innocence murdered before
it could flash that angelic smile

chromosomalicide
- a swim to the dark
bottom of thirsty sea - men
and women so self-destructive
even israfil and yama smile
- forlornly

wade on

and i wade in
unchartered waters
(a deeply ingrained trait)
heading for that island
to build a dream-hut
with a well...

little fathoming
these dreams have been dreamt
zillion times by millions

those dreamers
with their dreams
now ashes, specs of dust
- floating debris in space

but in vacant moods
it is ordained
we muse, dream on

the pause button ii

in a zillion seconds
chund sa'atiaN, really
all this will be over
aap rahaiNgay, na hum
shikway, na shikayataiN
the complainant nor the complainee
will outlive the complains

haaN! yeh tO da'aimi such
ki woh kaRi jo da'anaouN kO
karti rahi hay paraishaaN her soo
yes, this is that eternal truth
that for ever eludes the wise

laikin
ba'jooz in baatouN kay
but, in spite of this
what stops us
from hitting that pause button
here, today, now?

--a child's innocent smile
the trepidation in touch
the quiver in voice
clouds, candles, music

--the fluttering birds
merrily seeking
seeds and straws
for the morrows

--the aching hearts
bounded muscles (really)
bidding their time
for a uncertain future

chalo
jisay dekhni hO jannat
meray saath saath aa'aye*

come,
if you want to experience heaven
come with me

* maiN chala sharabkhanay jahaaN koi ghum nahiN hay / jisay dekhni hO jannat meray saath saath aa'aye* these lines are from an urdu sha'er most probably by jagan nath aazad.

converfession

converfession

I

when i confessed 'i am human'
'who is not,' she countered

.....(fast forward)..........

why not try to curb your faults?
wondered what good was my confession
but knowing where it came from
said i, appreciate and thanks

(did i change my ways afterwards
no, but it was nice to know she cared)

II

when will this journey end?
you don't want to know dear
why?
'coz
life is one big journey
and when this journey ends
we stand to lie still
you mean we lie to stand still
pass me the paper, please

III

where can one find peace?
round the corner from prosperity
prosperity is peace's neighbor?
no, there is an empty plot of land
between them- with barbed fences
barbed wire pricks?
guarded by men with flowing beards
carrying a rectangular object wrapped in silk
a box containing a dead book?
maybe a book or a manual on dance rituals?
nobody can dance with pricked toes
yes, the beard tends to get in the way of smooching
perhaps the empty plot of land is a cemetery
to bury joy and happiness?

IV

peace and prosperity go with happiness
- if they go happiness goes
happiness, bigamous?
happiness is polygamous
i didn't know she was a mormon. it figures
mormons even allow sisters to share a man
no wonder they are so grim
and happy simultaneously
grimaces are disguised smiles
are they ordained philanderers or just natural
at letting the animals instincts get the better?
even animals shy away from pain
animals have no conscience
they cannot think, they react

V

i once saw a fish cry profusely
it wasn't just the polluted waters in its eye?
the fish filled the bowl with tears so she can survive
self preservation is also only a reaction
ah self defense - like that lal fellow's burka?
offensive defense?
in college this girl had a fascinating smile
those who succumbed to her
were called collateral damage
did she use depleted uranium in her tooth-fillings?
don't believe so - she victimised with cluster-smiles
and cut-daisies?
how do you know
she wore a yellow cut-daisy print dress?
with stars and stripes?
you DO know her! do you know her whereabouts?
she smiles at me at the cemetery
did she find the lean tall bearded fellow
she loved? she told me she will go
to the end of the earth to find her man
the earth is round, there is no end
for someone who doesn't want to be found
she was weak in logic and geography
lucky guy!
life with her would have been sheer boredom
excitement is bad for your heart
and the wallet
yeah, one above the waist and the other below

perception/khayal

perception

shadows
abandon
in the dark
had they
betrayed
at high noon
it could have been
perplexing
like the flicker
of smile
that i imagined
on your lips

khayal

sa'aye bhee
doob jatay haiN
andherON maiN
dO peh'r ki
dhoop maiN
saath choRhaiN
tou janaiN

labON per phailti
goom hoti
muskurahat ka
tasaw'wur bhee
meh'v e hairaaN
ker daita hay mujhay

waltzing - a circle-in-a-square or a square-in-a-circle

rain of bewilderment on life's trapeze
she a prisoner in a circle, he incarcerated
in another fisher-price bubbly square

percussion of rain over the patched tin roof
reminder of steel drums at trini carnival
shallow poodles at their feet mirror forebodings

solitary prisoners - both - wet and cold
with time for hurling sharpened arrows
sans pause button for reflection
smiles camouflage wayward drift as
feet waltz on tarmac, destination a blur

children a post coitus inconsequence
unawares and uncaring of their morrows
splashing joyously in bacteria laden waters
the union of circle and square
shrouded in fate's mantra laden slogans
omnia vincit amor a mirage

drifting fragrance/dabay qadmoN

drifting fragrance

in the solitude
of the cacophony
i dreamt of the quiet
of the rolling meadows
where the rustling
whispers of the wind
plays susurrant ragas
of your fragrance drifting

dabay qadmoN

yaad may ooski gharq
sar-sarata sukoon
jub hum aa ghosh hota hay
tou mudhoshi ki devi
hosh kho beth'ti hay
aur yaad t'ri
dabay qadmoN
phir chali aati hay

under the minaret ii

it is official, it is six decades!
of mutilation, bomb, immolation
k(h)akistocracy rains with a vengeance
tenuous expectancy administered
by the somber men in black on the bench
hope, rising again in hopeless hopefuls
- of a uniform strip show in full glare
- of the return of the prodigal three
the new found vigilance of rip von judges
groggily whirling with born-again zeal
may yet turn fledgling hope into dismay
abandoning again the forlorn public

the schism dividing the citizens
- a sahara wide impregnable fissure
too many dogs exercising one bone
too many quacks exorcising ghosts

but in a flash appears that child
in rags, slightly disheveled
playing in the streets
with a tonka truck - three wheels missing
his smile spelled hope is alive and well

* under the minaret i

white lines

humidity and pollution
shrouding the air
cars, buses, trucks,
scooters and motor cycles
crawl and jostle
while the pedestrians
play russian roulette

road curtsy on furlough
signals and cops furtive
patience fleeting, fleeing
white lines with a straight face
in no hurry to arrive anywhere
distraught at this onslaught
for god's acre

m

the bed-sheet is wrinkleless
and the pillow unhallowed
dreams a soul-twin vision
her laughter reverberating
and fragrance wafting still
enticing rain of memories

lums t’ra, mehak t’ri, her soo
rachi hay is kamray maiN
tasaw’wur t’ra her saaNs maiN
aur wajood t’ra hum aaghosh
m’gar kya kiji’aye yaad t’ri
taRpati hay shiddat say

her élan ardent
and bon mots fervid
her shadora* pullulating
spawns this wistpining**


*shadow + aura
**wistful pining

misconceived misconceptions (or the tale of fallen s )

misconceived misconceptions (or the tale of fallen s )

will you help me O mary?
and is this muse
a mcguffin or a mcmary

sperm-ovum oscillation
pyrotechnics in eyes' vales
body's sahara, mind's oasis

imbued motherhood urges
estraying thoughts
concepts awhirl
conceptions acircle

zygotic misconcepts
geotic misconceptions

oh the misconceiving
misconceptions
and sleep, million lambs away

candle light tryst

in the flicker
of the kathak flame
words on paper, you, me
bhangRa of thoughts
oodham machatay haiN
bay hanghaam*

camouflaging candle light
flicker love fragrance
in the baithak fireplace
and while finger tip thoughts
flame
all over your skin
mapping contours
brows, lips, nape
sighs of exhales

--------------i wander

to the distant fire-rain
of irreconcilable hatred
of grown men's firecrackers
killing women and children
________________________

* kathak
* bhangRa
* baithak = family room - informal sitting place
* bay hangaam = unbridled passion

deluge

youN jo kabhi t'ri yaad
chupkay say m'ray dil maiN
ooter aa'aye gi tou hum
phir tumhaiN
baahouN maiN simut laiNgay

wasn't thinking about it
when she locked eyes and said
'what would you do if...'

labyrinthine queries
uttered nonchalantly
sound simple, surprised
i said 'will see when ...'

between lambs and stars
a stream of flash backs
once cherished dearly
passed in a languid stream

never imagined had
ensconced so many
seamless memories
as solicitously
i caressed her hair

fallen leaves, sanguine branches

breathing silences into cacophonous patches
instilling quiet repose as time noisily trudges
does it flop forward or fade into the past?
a past that sits on a lava of memories
leaf-like---

on the tree innocent fresh green leaves smile, dance
cavort with leaves covered in folds of rainless dust
floating in the wind defying aerodynamics

on the ground they are embraced by other leaves
metamorphosing green, breathing fresh life
that would ferment yet more memory crystals

leaves gravitate, hug and embrace - nature's nature
but why do hatenamis annihilate blankly
impeccant leaves that have umpteen promises left

sighs sieve through insinuations, innuendoes
star gazer, leftist, rightist, apologist, traitor
i smile timorously ensconced in my safety
in distant troubled times and sip even more tea

yeh khuda hay na bhagwan m'ra

before foxa2* that furtive
fleeing, fleeting exchange
of the sperm-ovum owners
and an startled child grows

[litany: a pilot's target practice, cambodia, chechenya darfur, vietnam, iraq, afghanistan and new york famines, droughts, avian 'flu legionnaire's disease, west nile hepatitis, hiv aids innocent civilians caught in the vicious cross fire noah tsunamis, perhaps a few chromosome misfits like trisomy 21**]

the litany mushroom grows
amidst champagne festivities
in a world that is not round

ghalat samajhna mut mujh ko dost, yeh Khuda hay na Bhagwaan na God tumhara, m'ra, kisi ka

it is easy to invoke god
GWB's or OBL's?
the palestinian Allah
or the israelite Yahweh
our bed, our quarters, our mess
our bhagwaan, eeshwur, aur khuda
how can we outsource with such ease
our so revered creations?

*foxa2
** trisomy 21

some more names, billy

billy*
am moved
you have a way with words
and tears well up
as i think of mothers
wives, parents, siblings
for whom time ended
with that attack
and then i see a lanky
bespectacled black
saying chicken come home....
a remark (that most don't
know)
he was to retract
when he found compassion

billy
am moved
you have a way with words
a poet with a pulsating
muscle bundle
does it not feel the pain
of the dead - the near dead
and the near living
elsewhere in the world?
why is your world so confined
to the US, and some countries
across the big pond?

ali, bhupendra
carlos, dev, ebere,
valin, wen
xian, yuan, zoyenka
they too played and lived here once
before succumbing to dictates
of being born where they were
of being subjected to the whims
of machiavelli's disciples
and hard to believe, billy
hard to believe this
they number in hundreds of thousands
as you say
So many names,
there is barely room
on the walls of the heart.

billy*

autumn harvest

where is your health card?
demanded the nurse and
with ever so trembling hands
he felt for his back pocket
in a gesture reminiscent
of slow motion pictures
and pulled out a black wallet
the effort fatiguing him
he plopped down on a chair
and clutching the wallet
rested his hand on his thighs
after a minute or two
he recovered to unzip
in one slow flourish
- bottom, to side to the top
from the now open jaws
emerged a stack of cards
held by two crossed rubber bands
with quivering fingers
he removed one rubber band
and hung it on his left thumb
then he removed the other band
and hung it on his left thumb
then he searched for his health card
and smiled ever so subtly
as he pulled it out and
placed it on his thigh
pulling one rubber band he
stretched it across the stack
and then the other rubber band
vertically across it
replaced it in the wallet
he zipped it side to side... to side
and put it back on his thigh
over the pulled out health card
time to rest and take deep breaths
one, two...he had the same look
on his face that commercial
pilots have as they run off
a mental check-list, yet again
then with an abrupt thrust
he got himself off the chair
the wallet and the health card
clasped firmly in each hand
this effort drained him so
he just stood motionless
then in very slow motion
he replaced the wallet
back in the rear pocket
and took two steps forward
towards the nurse's window
and said, here

11 am on 11/11 the armistice day for us
remembering the fallen ones
then came 9/11, 3/11 and now 7/11
7 blasts 11 minutes apart
yes sodium's atomic number is 11
the convenience store across the road
is called Seven-Eleven, borne of a time
when it opened at 7 am, closed at 11 pm
the eleventh sign of zodiac ushers
the age of aquarius (the water carrier) and
the eleventh hour, one hour to midnight
represents the last moment to act or abstain
and for some reason we have eleven players
in cricket, soccer, football, and field hockey

in the days past i used to say 'a penny for your thought'
and she'd shed the worried look, smile and come closer
with inflation first the pie disappeared, then paisa and penny
suppose now have to say 'a loonie for your thought'

a loonie is a canadian dollar coin with eleven sides - a hendecagon (for trivia buffs: A regular hendecagon has internal angles of 147.272727... degrees.) not a colloquial expression for a lunatic which has an indo-european root in leuk luna - lunaticus - lunatique - lunatik

even though have many a strikes against me - wrong side of the divide, wrong religion wrong appearance, wrong-wrong-wrong most things will say with least hesitation, they were lunatics any one who kills a civilian for any reason is a lunatic, is a criminal, is a zombie

fullmoon blanket

sun fusing life, moon tide
eros' psyche floats alone
horizon to ocean

friendships bloom, enmities blossom
wars stand-in for battles
peace an ever shrinking pause

bird on a leafless tree branch
musing rumi like
undaunted by warring truths

each person's truth
estranged in a cacophony
unabashed, proudly owned
wandering friendless in sky

the sun rays denied comfort

truth, volition and violation
owned by zealots
in the company of living
smile at death
the surviving truth

grateful acknowledgment for using NF's bird

fences

the maginot lines of ideals and idols
of impenetrable himalayan suspicion
berlin wall of fortune
divine palisades of bursting indignation

and the other fences
we surround ourselves with

smiles of touch and tremor
askance, innocent, lost,
quivering, cold, aloof,

poking at the hermetic wall of dust and ash
and buoyant abandon
fences that outlive hate pulverize soundlessly

leaky boat

leaky boat i
how much water
can a boat take
---------------------before
it capsizes

some spent lifetime
---------------------probing
till the pump dies

leaky boat ii
when the boat goes under
it is not the lightening
the wear and tear
over the years past

the rusted tin cans used
could not handle the flood

leaky boat iii
one day the teacher
did not show up
some one mentioned
he succumbed to
high blood pressure

leaky boat iv
they met

of ins and outs

in life
in likes, dislikes
third eye is kept
on the ins and outs

(and now we have
in, out and on
wonder if it's alright to use
an e-icon, or let the gentle
reader sense one?)

the gods gifted us sight
and our mothers insight

pity those whirling
in ignorance
and denial
doomed till time dies
unlike those robed
ones of konya

dedication: for my single issue superman friends