making of a new painting

a new canvas you have, now, given me
expecting me to create a fresh piece of art
with that courage of that cougar alone
on that tree top, far
far away from another life that can pounce
or, gather together what has been hunted down

i pray, now, that you increase, profoundly, within me
that awareness of that fearlessness
hidden deep, deeper
within my deepest well
unreachable to those un-heroic souls
or, those who crown that domesticated cat

then, i will, with your grace already present
transform my life, at present too plain and un-colourful
into a masterpiece that none has ever seen
never before, though it may offend the weak in heart
causing great, and greater embarrassment
to those in business of employing the mediocre

summer bird of yesteryear

every time i peep into my backyard
through that bay window
in my large living room
that summer bird of yesteryear,

(my fluttering memories of that woman
a new canadian goose
who decided to fly away
with another gander,

no – that white peacock,)
flies into to my unkempt garden
to torment and torture
me; my heart with six bypasses

then, threatens to stop
while, the cancerous cells, around
my daughter’s neck, multiply
like weeds in a neglected patch

you gave me your troth

as that moon walks across the sky alone
i too now toddle
even as i cuddle those memories
of that thirty-five, long, years
when you were huddled inside my soul
while i leapt like a fawn beside you
and then, we were like those double stars
alcor and mizar in the ursa major
for which you had torn yourself
from those in pleiades, your sisters
pledging to be with me till death do us part

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