At five, whole world a wondrous gleam,
A bottomless, bright, benign dream,
Each step a secret, shine so bright,
Moments like fleeting sunbeams’ light.
Fifteen years, a smooth shifting tide,
Where fervent feelings faintly hide,
A quest for self, a whispered plea
Of who I am eternally.
Thirty now, the path quite defined,
With purpose clear and heart entwined,
A steady stride, a settled grace,
Carving own dreams in time and space.
At fifty, wisdom starts to bloom,
Dispelling shadows, chasing gloom,
Reflecting past sweet or sour years,
In the span of time, without fears.
At seventy, some desired rest,
Where peace and quietness are blessed,
A life well lived, a journey's end
On loved ones, memories, depend.
years of elder age,
youth memories and childhood
float up with neat ease!
Years have passed since we walked this shore,
Kissed by countless waves and more;
Embedded are your footprints still—
No tide can erase, nor sands can fill.
Months have passed since you left this room,
Yet still there lingers your perfume;
Embracing each corner, a trace of your presence,
A cherished reminder of your enduring essence.
Weeks have passed since I last heard your voice,
A recording replayed in memory and choice;
Each word you spoke still echoes clearly,
Like a whisper breathed into my ear so dearly.
It was just yesterday when I last saw you,
Through a framed smile, your face I knew;
I can still trace each speck and line—
A face that will never fade with time.
in
falling
leaves
summer
memories
The memories of autumn
when the leaves change
and the cool wind blows
often evolve around family
Picking apples, pumpkin patches,
colors of leaves combining
as my boys jumped in piles raked
together just for that purpose
Before they reached adulthood
and went their own ways
and illness settled in our midst
Autumn represented closeness and hope
While hope still exists, the autumn
breeze doesn't smell like it anymore,
and piles of leaves don't bring laughter
as the empty nest empties the festivities
Independence and death have separated
us from our boys, yet we still have each other
Autumn looks and feels so different, but this
is where hope and love rewrite the script
But the loneliness of Autumns past and joy
that will never come again in those ways
leaves a scar but beautiful memories,
that I choose to embrace and enjoy
Some problems
Cannot be solved with money
Do not have a clear cause
Do not hide behind words
Some problems
Appear out of nowhere
They live right where we do
Like furniture or crockery
On the table or in the sideboard
Or like the view from the window
On a clear day, or at dawn
When winter sets in
Summer days will be frozen
In the photo archive of years gone by
Memories will flood back
And there are no problems
Some problems, fortunately
Disappear of their own accord
Without anyone’s involvement
Like snowflakes melting in the air.
Gold and ruby droplets
dripped
from the park's trees
that had once
glowed in green.
I drove along
the Cottonmill road
as I pulsated
with Autumn's bloodstream.
Summer's heat
was a dimming memory
as Autumn painted
fresh stories
with God's colors.
I pulled out
of the park
as nature's canvas
labored behind me.
It’s Sunday –
a snow-dreamy morning…
The mad, embroidered Moon hangs
on the cloth of the sky.
Amidst a barren land I see
a speak-burning tree.
I am so dispirited.
By the roadside chapel, a small boy listens
to the deaf-mute woman…
through touch.
At Five,the world around seems confusing
The moves are mesmerizing, so amusing.
One knows no lies and smiles
Plays and explores,counting upto miles.
At Fifteen,one is full of energy and zest
One is impulsive,there's no desire for rest.
One dwells in dreams and fantasies
One enjoys the company of friends, like a swarm of bees.
At Thirty,one feels to have a permanent bond
With a person one wants to be and is fond...
One develops a true sense of responsibility
One strives to achieve and gain stability.
At Fifty,one loses all charm and desire
The level of spirituality, goes higher and higher.
One enjoys the company of members in family
Wants to spend the rest of his life,happily...
At Seventy,one likes the company of peers
With them,he shares the memories,smiles with eyes,full of tears...
One often feels connected with the Lord
Feels,the ultimate path,leads to the Almighty...God.
the broken camera in my hand,
the burnt film in yours,
is this our end?
what if i still want more?
the shards of glass fallen down,
i see my reflection torn,
the sadness turns to a frown,
where to have you gone?
colours are everywhere,
lights and fireworks,
Oh! such a beautiful stare,
but why suddenly this dark?
this swallowing sadness,
please save me, i'm lost,
an inescapable deep abyss,
it feels cold, as empty as trust.
is this me inside?
is this inside me?
i have no where to go,
where are the colours i once held onto?
it's all in monotone,
maybe black, maybe white,
i want to explore,
but i can't see any hope or light.
i see a little me who is vibrant,
what a pleasant sight,
i feel something vibrate,
and i wake up, with tears in my eyes.
-V.S
We turn to the little accouterments.
In a world where love is expensive.
But a broken heart is forever free.
The things that make you intimately know.
That circumstances are not what they seem.
That the hardships are opportunities.
And a warrior knows of the violence.
How to right wrongs and defend innocence.
To assume all our ancestors teachings.
And develop the techniques of goodness.
So everyone knows where they stand today.
When sunset explodes in technicolor.
And All that has been is all that will be.
When a man can say he's finally free!
I went to that bench
where we laughed until tears
and cried until smiles.
And suddenly, a bullet of
memories hit me.
You were there,
but in a face I barely remember
now.
Maybe time tore us apart,
but left the memories for my heart.
Funny, isn't it?
How you gave me so many memories
just to become one yourself.
No queries were there when they met,
Nor answers left for them to get,
Nor easier was it a task,
Though too little was there to ask,
When four eyes became two, one fate,
Two rows of teeth together smiled in state,
Memory of lifetime was set
To dive into together to get wet,
Memories pictorial expressed in dream,
Saved in warm blood, taking a flight on whim,
And never easy to erase,
Nor ever to chase,
Memories saved in warm blood
Pulsing deep beneath the flood.
So, let the yesterday’s memory
Take her flight on whim,
As long as tomorrow’s are savoury
Making our today’s dream.
____________________
Musings | 08.02.2016/revised Sept 2026| blood, dream, life, memory, today, yesterday, Free verse
An awful crowd intrudes my solitude,
When memories rush while I brood,
But ere long pass on in sudden rush
And before I know they flood bank to bank.
I think of using bridge to go across,
But I find it far from easy---
The flood that overflows pushes me back,
And I never before knew that
A crowd of one can be so overwhelming.
… … … … …
Yet, as the waters settle,
And as I get used to the quiet,
Memories do seem like
The ash on an unguent stick
To be cleared now and then,
Or seem like essence eased out of a bottle,
The stick cannot light up my lamp,
Nor bottled fragrance stays forever,
And so do memories.
And I take solace in the fact
That memory’s like a crazy woman
Who hoards her tattered rags
And throws away her good raiment.
________________________
Musings | 04.09.2014/revised Sept 2026| memories, solitude, Free verse
I feel you near even when you're not here,
even when your face no longer lingers in my head,
when the wind no longer carries your scent,
and my body starts forgetting the feel
of your featherlight touch.
I feel your presence every single minute,
even your soft voice whispering in my ear.
I remember your smile,
the one that used to melt my heart,
and even your words that cut deep
and left a scar.
Yet I also remember the way
you used to gaze into my eyes,
as if I meant the world to you.
I remember how those glances
always made me fall in love with you,
and how, every single day,
I kept losing a little piece of you.
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