Nature Society Poems

Once it is far away enough

Only be distal enough from crowded stay 
The fresh and sweet of the air can be tasted
And the chirping of birds be appreciated 
Also, the dancing butterflies be exquisite

Which of the untouched are full of charms 
Such as imagined fairies shown in murals
In the corner of this, being ignored by them
No humans hustle and bustle

I can't be

I can’t be
 sharing 
 my body  
 with you  
 who’s now a shallow pool 
 though the room is offices
 I can hear them panting now
   his saliva wet every bedsheet
he’s your boss
          your CEO
     

watch my wristwatch

watch my wristwatch
      and what time is it
     I cannot not tell you
though this is partly sunny
each laughter from the room
                    is that document
   

poem number 10 from saltmilk

… do you love me, woman
it is cloudy in this street             
as that sandalwood perfume
stretching between our arms
here everything of it is gone       
with the floods and good


you are the only tree left behind
and love is the

INDIA

I come from a place with Mahogany trees,
With bowers of fragrant flowers surrounded by bees,
I come from a land where within it- culture and language differ,
Still humanity and brotherhood is what we prefer.

I come from a place where the poor are fed,
A place where throughout the host's house the guests are led,
A place where love

The place I find Solace

I  moved to the fast-moving world.
I rely on nothing but amazing technology.
Everything is at my doorstep, just no less than a wonder world. 
None to bother, no one to care about. 
Just one click makes every single service possible. 

No time to spare in any wandering thoughts,
As so much around to get amused and explore every sort.
Technology

Internal Cold War

I'm torn across axis yet to exist,
Or had once been, since been replaced,
By a sense of self and lack thereof,
When we, by they encased.

Cleavage adorned in modest terms,
Abreast as if more than one.
Still less than two, duplicitous you,
Less I divide by hegemon. 

Senses shook, a daily wage,
Of war: be both me and we?
An ancient oath

The world is suchlike a pomegranate

The world is somehow a pomegranate
Every individual of us in it is the seeds 
Having stayed similar to juicy tastes 
Holding together long yawning for grace 

Dreaming to germinate in the spring breeze
And to grow up and stand tall in the soil 
Blooming virtually and quietly in the Sun-rays 
And to appeal the amethyst 

Vision of Dreams

even without the warmth of the wise
there is radiating the unseen
a desire where only truth lies
in the place of the in-between

do not be afraid in this endeavour
visions of hope will come to you
and before the time of forever
eyes will open, and see a renew

even in the darkness, there will be light
as mist descends from the

A lament of a nature lover on World Environment Day

She showers,
She falls,
She drenches us...
But she shows off a rainbow... 

She shines,
She bursts,
She burns us sometimes...
But she lets the gentle breeze blow... 

She makes us love the rain
She makes us hate it again
She makes us yearn for a bright sunlight
She makes us afraid of it

She makes our flowers grin and wilt
She makes us cry out

I AM AFRICA

I am Africa, the cradle of mankind,
Where ancient footprints in the sands of time entwined,
The birthplace of humanity, divinely designed,
In my esteemed valleys, where life first aligned.

I am Africa, the cradle of civilization,
Where mighty empires rose with determination,
From the ancient Egypt's pyramids to the Great Zimbabwe walls,
From glorious Mali Empire to Kingdom of Kush, history

Of the Larke Cumb

(etymology of a surname: Larcombe) 

somewhere in the deepest dark of Somerset,
was a secret cumb, I know of not yet
where ancients did note
that many a Larke would wing,
for food,
to brood, 
and sing

in those times a cumb was understated
with trees aplenty in it's forest,
where insects
unabated,
invite the Larke
fated
to dance with them as their guest.

as such, much gratiated,
the

City of Holographic Ants

two-legged ants dart
around & through
a holographic city
overcome by
  an illusion of order
overwhelmed by
  a terrestrial constellation 
  under cacophonous con(de)struction

six-legged ants dutifully
transport breadcrumbs to tiny 
chasms in the mottled dirt
where cool dark silence 
briefly mollifies
  a holographic planet
  under careless (de)construction

There He Sadly Grows

From a little sapling to a tree,
He grows, he grows to be,
Stuck to its roots still,
Can’t go anywhere, can’t be free,
Stuck in the soil,
His own not allowing him to go,
He just sits there, where he sadly grows

New Haven Terminal

Across the track, a rail yard worker
big innocent bear of a guy, beer
belly, embraces his girl. She’s
a conductor, comes up to that belly,
reaches arms not quite around
his back. They separate and embrace
three times while the train prepares
for departure.
                 

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