Poetry

This poem was inspired by Pablo Picasso’s painting – the blue room   They say that life has many tones and hues But in my life what dominate are the blues I am caught in a swirling vortex of strife And that my dear is the defining fact of my …

Under the gnarled boughs of the aging banyan In the courtyard, Beneath the canopy of the jade leaves fluttering To gentle breezes, Grandma would sit, with her books strewn around. Welcoming with a smile, arm outstretched in greeting She would beckon. Eagerly we would cluster around, on our haunches On …

In between the spaces of dream and reality, I found you Like an alluring enigma, you shimmered in the Half light. I knew then, I was in love with only an illusion But it was enough.   Image – Yohann Lc via unsplash  

  She was the mellow glow of dawn, He was the brooding moods of dusk. She was the sparge of summer rain, He was the cloak of the dark night. She was the fragrant rose in spring, He was the chill of the winter snow. Together they were day and …

The brooding blues of your days And the bleeding red’s of mine Hold us at bay, as sightless we Navigate these treacherous lanes Of our hearts, beating in tandem.   In this pantomime we call our life We waltz together, enshrouded By the deep shadows of our past Fearful that …

Floating on a warm breeze, hope appeared My heart sang, suffused with joy, but alas, It was but a dream!   Life gained momentum, my career took flight I rejoiced, I thought I’d be free of domesticity It was but a dream!   I settled into matrimony, the kids came …

It casts a glow deep, the streetlight at the corner Like an aura it extends, intruding upon the dark. Poking, prodding, subduing the dark into submission It impinges upon the shadows lurking at the rim.   Is it my imagination? Or does the aura extend? Gradually eating away at the …

Freedom is a wren singing on a golden morn It perches on hope, sings to the new day born. Freedom is a warbler, warbling a song of love It flits from bough to branch, like a silver dove. Freedom is a koel that coos in the wee hours It brings …

Hold my hand, if you must but let me walk alone. Walk beside me, hand in hand But, let me choose my own path, let me lead. My fortitude may not be evident, but I am strong Offer companionship, not a direction I know what I am doing and where …

By the shore we used to sit, wetting our feet, Our souls damp with love. Under the bejeweled skies, we would sit, Gazing at nothing, Just you and I, holding hands, souls entwined Love surging in our hearts.   Image – Joyce Huis via unsplash