thunbergia mysorensis

is the name they gave me, a vine
with spectacular long chains
of yawning red and yellow flowers
and dark green foliage

my handsome features
and trail to success
were due to my sure anchoring
and climbing on my support

converting my stems to tendrils
i clung to my support to move
towards the sun that brightened the earth
bringing credit also to my name

but soon i forgot that support
to kick it hard as it aged and dried
while earlier, it was a tight clinging
to that that made me productive

soon, i know for sure, like my support
i too would age and dry to decay
then it would be too late
to express my gratitude to my support

momentary and eternity

grant me courage and wisdom
to celebrate life
both momentous and eternal
that craving for eternity
i miss not joy that’s momentary
and indulging in joy
i fail not sailing to eternity

a highway on my window

like that little spider
repeatedly slipping
as she climbs
my seven-foot glass window

i slide many times
in my striving to maturity
away from a mere living
by letting go those numerous orgasms
after the regular steadfast filling
of my belly which is a sheer span

my tired friend, then sits
and weaves a dream of a highway
to the top with no exit
or, just a fewer exits

ending in a daydream
like that of mine
that heaven with gold paved roads
bought with blood
of a real man
that refused the wide way

graduating

she now knows love
love, not a lifeless thing
that she used to talk about those days
while carrying a backpack
full of books and binders

a mustang she wanted to drive
symbol of success and speed
a perfect blend with boom
and the ooze of black-gold

but today for her
only one thing that matter
living with a man
sharing his failure
to graduate from a high school

that teaches not techniques
to survive that stoppage
of an upward movement
and a free flow of more

her achievement
she carries with care
as if holding the first university degree
that will open the greater door
to a doctorate
to walk around with a prefix
before her name

now she smiles, inside
every time she feels that kick
a little stretching
in that cozy cave
intricately decorated convocation hall
calling him, her baby
while feeling that wall, outside

her boy will soon graduate
to enjoy her love
her success, her own graduation
to that new title – mum

irate boatman

i see the lonely boatman pulling his boat
to the banks of the river
he cruised only for a shorter moment
shorter than that summer in far north

the yachter appeared exhausted
and even frustrated
while the river continued her dance
her fast flowing towards the ocean

the boatman did not begin his boating
from that little point the river began, or dropping
dangerously many suicidal heights, and suddenly
spreading thinly on grounds a boat could ground

now the retired oarsman like jonah is envious
that the river that carried him continues
without him and his tiny craft
before merging into a oneness with the wide sea

Note: Photo by Gitanjali Victor

my digital frame

from his infinite mega memory
pictures of rare beauty change constantly
in my white
four feet by four feet
digital frame fixed firmly
on my wall

and yet i rarely greet him
running away too quickly
to pick up a channel
that my worn out wallet
provide with pain
increasing unnecessary storms
within my soul

with it
i reject the poise
the pictures offer freely

wild grass

you live in the margin
and just for a season
of spring, summer and an autumn
before your death
with no thought of reincarnation

i live with you in my heart
paying attention to your imprint
frame hanging on wall in my mind
making you my classy model
while others dismiss as wild grass

i’m learning to dance
like you in the summer
with winds of gradual change
and stormy revolution
enjoying my present moment

i bend when the tempests hit
hit me hard to break me
like you, that emptiness in stock
i keep my soul empty
with no expectation to sit on a throne