Short Foothill Poems

the round foothill tops
cradled in the drifting fog ~
a soaring vista
...

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On the foothill of Himalayas range,
The queen of hill stations in India
Holds a fairyland atmosphere,
With hugging spiral roads
Ascending to the peak,
Mussoorie gives
Top view of
Foggy
Land...

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Dance of a spring storm brought some rain along
Sparkling mountain tops with glitters of charms
Decorating foothill trees with fluffs of knick-knacks
Caressing blooming plants with respect from heart
Adding further to rivers, reservoirs, creeks and ponds
Carrying exuberance to rejoice, appreciate and dance...

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Up on a rocky foothill
I could see the canopy
of the forest,

a wind was pushing
green waves through
the thickly knitted foliage.

Not satisfied, I climbed higher.

On the high beak of a peak.
I stood,
peering over a wing-flying sky.

Between the winged air,
and the verdant waves below,
mind walked,

across God's heart.
...

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Waiting

Gone is the luster in the hazel eyes
That once worshiped you.
Gentle olive hills and valleys,
Bear spider mapped lines
Across white foothill sands and
The I that is left misses you.

Your Adonis form and chiseled face
Have gone where I cannot go,
Here neath soft clouds, I hide from you,
Awaiting that gentle wind to bear me on
Renewed to you as
Before the world, we will forever be....

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Waiting

Gone is the luster of the hazel eyes
That once worshiped you.
Gentle olive hills and valleys,
Bear spider mapped lines
Across white foothill sands and
The I that is left misses you.

Your Adonis form and chiseled face
Have gone where I cannot go,
Here 'neath soft clouds, I hide from you,
Awaiting that gentle wind to bear me on
Renewed to you as
Before the world, we will forever be.

...

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Centre of this galaxy 
through the darkness you came 
shawled by your presence entirely

From the ancient tree of wisdom growing wise 
The righteous flourish like the palm
at the foothill carved on its bark

Where the birds will nest finding shelter
under the shade of its branches

Plentiful as the sycamore-fig trees 
for the forest of the vintage is coming down.
So he built the house finishing it with beams of cedar....

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If I were a foothill
I'd live in Tennessee
settled close would be a windmill
beside my dainty stream

I wouldn't be eroded
for a balance would be there
my soil would be loaded
and a terrace we could share

Even though I'd reside with plateaus
settled in the mass
people would live in chateaux
and play in my lofty grass

The certainty that I am piny
wouldn't matter in my plain
for even though I'm tiny
the mountains discern my name...

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Wintry night,they are not home
Street bare, glacial faces roam
Foothill creepy frigid and cold
Gnomes are busy with their gold.

They are not home,hours drip 
Like yellow jackals,owls' trip
Brooks sleep under icy cream
Glow worms shiver in their dream.

They are not home, latches click
Wind pounds the door old and sick
Dismal moon is on the wane
Flies are stuck on windowpane.

They are not home, they never were
The house is built for ghost I swear....

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At the foothills of fantasy I live
Keeping away from reality I live
Where ignorance is blessing I live
On dat beautiful level of existence I live
Day dreamer dey call me
I m
A seeker of dreams 
I m
Not bothered of labels, carefree
I m
I belong to myself
Self obsessed
I m dream or reality
It may b anything
So b it
The biber of dark honey
So b it
A dark uncertainty gathers around
So b it
For 
The chain dat binds the skies
I have
No flowers get pure perfume in my hand
I have...

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