Love

Being with a person is love

Bearing a person is love

Changing for a person is love

Changing a person is love too

Sometimes, love is, saying ‘I love you’

But sometimes love is not having to say ‘I love you’

One love, lifts us up, high in the air

Another, brings us down, closer to ground.

One is subtle, invisible, like a filled water bottle by our side

Another is blatant, noticeable, like the ring on the bride.

Waving hands, waiting eyes, little notes – all hold love

as do poems, songs or books, dedicated.

Love is in the morning noises that wake us up

And also in the closed door, that lets us sleep some more.

Love is in those hands that hold ours – big and small

Steadying us, supporting us or needing us;

Love is also in those hands that let go

Standing by and watching us fly.

Love is in the eyes that greet with a smile,

and in the eyes that well up in tears, saying bye.

Love, if truth be told

is everywhere, if only one can behold.

Mom and Dad

If mom is the emotion, unbridled –
Roaring laughter or a river of tears,
Dad is the restrained smile
or the wrinkled forehead, hiding worries or pain.

If mom is the dollops of love
We may gobble on whenever we like,
Dad is the love spread out evenly
throughout a lifetime.

If mom is our personal cheerleader,
Celebrating our every success
Dad is our first and best critic, stern and direct
Demanding nothing but excellence

If mom is that beautiful waterfall,
Powerful, yet peaceful and calming
Dad is the mountainous presence
Being there forever, strong and guarding.

Mom and Dad –
two wheels of our royal chariot,
guardians of our dreams and desires
both so different, so unique
yet in their endless love, alike.

**

Mom celebrated her 60th birthday this December and they have their anniversary this week. So naturally, Mom and Dad are on my mind and hence the poem. Happy anniversary Mom and Dad.

Then and Now

Then was the time of privilege,
freedom and complacence
A life of late-night games and chatter
and waking up to a waiting platter;
Days of long, hot and luxurious baths
or just singing in solitude;
Then, music was jazz or blues –
playlists in our control
and headphones, portals to other worlds.
There was time for Discovery and mystery,
or long chats on geopolitics or climate change.
Well, that time is long gone!

Now is the time of prudence,
guardianship and responsibility
A life of ‘early to bed and early to rise’ routines
waking up as toiling machines;
Bath times are minutes sacredly scrounged;
Music is just lullabies or rhymes
we, the DJs at the juniors’ beck and call;
Nature trails, once measured in miles
are now just the pauses, pebbles and misshapen leaves;
Sibling wars dominate our dreams
As the days explode with yells and screams
There’s hardly time for reflections or reveries.

Oh how huge these changes seem,
how hard the everyday battles
yet the moments how fleeting –
days blurring into months and years!
Time flies as we groan and sigh
and we end up missing wood for the trees
Why not cherish the snuggles and cuddles
the tiny feet jumping in the puddles
Capture those rapturous giggles
And relive a childhood we left far behind.

Do not get lost in the infinite scroll

Do not get lost in the infinte scroll
You should rest and relax at close of the day
But not glare at the bright blue screen

Though wise men know being social is right
But no posts can ignite great thoughts, and so
Do not get lost in the infinite scroll

Family men, having signed off for the day
Lie down on the floor, stacking blocks or reading books with the kids, and relax
But do not glare at the bright blue screen

Single men, who are free to chase the wildest of geese
Know that there are more meaningful things to pursue but just
Do not get lost in the infinite scroll

Lonely men, bored to death, having nothing else to spend time on
Learn a new tongue, draw, cook or just dance
But do not glare at the bright blue screen

I implore you all, everyone out there
Read books, colour, take a stroll – seek joy, seek fun but
Do not get lost in the infinite scroll
And do not glare at the bright blue screen.

by Keerthy (July 13 2022)

Well, this one needs a lot of polishing but couldn’t resist posting it here. 🙂 Most would immediately understand that this was an imitation, if not a copy, of the famous poem – “Do not go gentle into that good night” by Dylan Thomas. Dylan Thomas’s poem was written in a state of grief, over the impending blindness of his father. It is one of the greatest vilanelles ever written.

This is meant as a tribute to the giant as his work has been on my mind for a while now and I couldn’t hold off of imitating this poem. I know this is not at its best. I will definitely take time to improve this. But for now letting it rest like this. Please let me know how you like it and add your thoughts or criticize, please.

Farmer’s Market

Ripe peppers greet by the door
As do the sweet corns
Standing in groups of four.
Pineapples, peaches and pears
Await their turn to be picked and pared
Cabbages sit mighty and proud
While people hustle by, in voices loud
Portabellas, greens, along with the dairy
Stay cool in all their finery
As beets and radishes share
Their earthy tales with the Kale.
Cakes and cookies wink
As we go pick up the milk
And nuts in clear boxes packed,
Lay in prime shelves, happily stacked
Filled baskets wait in line
As cards are swiped and coins chime.
People enter, people leave,
The door swivels and struggles with each release.
Hours and hours from dawn to dusk
The market stands thus, vitally picturesque.

One, two….(hop, hop)

Hot, toasty noons
Or cold breezy evenings
Pals on the side
Summers went by in a
Carefree life
Outdoors
Thirsty feet, on dusty grounds
Carefully
Hopping.

Hopscotch. This is an acrostic poem on the classic summer outdoor game.

Words

What steals your attention
In a friend’s house,
Or a restaurant,
Or some random street?
Some say men, or women
That depends
Some name food,
Or the smell of it
Some say light,
Or the lack of it
Some don’t look
Their attention elsewhere.
To me, over everything else,
It’s just words.
Names of people,
Titles on a bookshelf,
Headlines on the paper fluttering by,
Or the story my samosa is wrapped in
Product manuals, food menus,
Signboards, warnings,
One-liners on the back of vehicles
Everything that’s a text
Spelt right or wrong
Well, that’s what I look for
That’s what I see
That’s what I actively seek
That’s what I happily find.
Words, and the worlds behind.

Ads

Take a break, says one
Just do it, pushes another.
One peeks from a webpage
one alerts as a message.
Of villas, cars and bikes
or the apparel that gets likes
The newspaper brings some to door
A stranger on the road, hands us more!
Pizzas with extra cheese
and liquids that brighten teeth
flow by subtly, in disguise
as an uncle’s choice or a friend’s advice.

Who said all the world’s a stage?
Trust me, the world is a capitalist’s canvas
to paint his slogan and sell his name
We are but the eyeballs that gaze
and the wallets that (pur)chase!