As I walk in the morning, the cardinal sings with pride 

It is almost as though you walk with me beside..

The past and present...all gets muddled in this nostalgic stride..

To talk of nothing and everything, as time does tide..

To have a soul that cares to walk in step, side by side..

Safe in thoughts, in words, in deep silence is a true might..

To know for a fact that you are loved with no way to hide..

To be so sure of us …even when we aren’t always on the right..

So sure that the other is always there..there in this life ride..

And all one needs… is to say…Let us take a walk....

Yes, as  I walk in the morning, the cardinal sings with pride 

It is almost as though you walk with me ..today..beside..

Without you, yes I can definitely take a walk..

And yet, in every walk, you are there beside..

With you, without you..Come .. let us take a walk!

Join in atleast to hear the cardinal’s song..and pride..

We will be quiet and we won’t talk!!

 Lukewarm love

Who really wants lukewarm love? me..not!

Just like coffee, love is best had hot

If you want to let it lie cold, 

Then for love, you ain’t bold

Love me bold or love me not

Hold me forever or just leave me cold

Don’t hold the cuppa in your hands warm..

And wait for it to be limp and lukewarm 

Set the cup down on the table, let it be..

Go your way … if we aren’t meant to be..

But if we are … then sip your coffee hot

And hold me tight, don’t let go..don’t let it rot

Simple brew for love…love me like I do…

Hot cofeee on a cold night.. and say .. Yes.. I do

Grief in waves

 Grief comes in waves.. and takes everyone in it’s sway

Like tiny  gentle waves that wash your feet..sometimes 

Like tsunamis that envelop in a wave of memories…sometimes 

Today, it was in the shower  where flashbacks and tears washed away..

The thing about grief is it is not a constant throb of pain..like one does expect 

It is like that sprained muscle that hurts bad in moments you least expect 

Grief, they say is love that has no place to go..

I think grief is when love has found it’s final place to go

Within us.. all the love.. that we could not give..

The only way out is to love yourself a tad harder today

Give yourself the love you could not to another give..

Grief makes us softer, more receptive to happiness day by day

As hungry souls, we grab those moments of joy

To climb out of  wells of grief, to find ephemeral joy

Till another swing of the pendulum of grief and it’s waves 

Yes, grief does come in waves

Just be

Today in the midst of conversations,  I told him so

Do you know what love needs now and ever more?

No..not something impossible .. not less….nor more …

Yes today in the midst of conversations, I told him so

All we need and ever need is to just choose to be... 

Not flowers, though I won’t say no....white flowers melt me

Not poetry, for I know you can’t battle in verse.. like I do

Not declarations of love, for your love is quiet without ado

Not for societal awe, for love knows no rules and laws,

Not your flattery, for love knows it’s  is despite flaws

All it  needs.. is an unwavering presence…

A presence despite each other’s faltering absence..

To choose to be there when it is easier not to..

To choose to stay when it is easier not to

To see each other through the tinted permanence of goodness 

To hold tight to good memories and forget all their madness

Love is a resolve..a decision to choose you

Again and again…over mind, logic and sometimes even you.

To choose to be.. Just be

The tale of a emperor penguin

The tale of a emperor penguin, let us say  an empress instead..

In these days of pronouns, any one will do..He/She/They/Penguin instead 

Far from cold Antarctica,  not knowing her current  way..

With no Google maps to guide her way, flapping her flippers

She found her way or  shall I say she lost her way? 

Landed at a crowded hot Australian beach barefoot without slippers

I guess she just had it one day and threw in her beach towel,

Decided to pack her flipper, her tuxedo and her webbed flippers..

And decided to swim far..far away from her Antarctic kind..

Something in me finds kindred with her vagrant penguin soul….

On days like today when the world around is a bore, not my kind…

I so do want to pack my bags and travel solo like her penguin soul..

That is until I heard she was found emaciated, weak, tired.. and exhausted 

Tired she was of Australian summer, not the kind the dream travelogue promised..

Somewhat again like me, when seeking adventure as though it is promised 

Only to miss home and bed and my peeps.., tired  and exhausted.

My alter ego, the empress penguin, she shares her wisdom..

Don’t pack your bags  and go solo.. just yet!

Just sink in your cozy bed and catch a nap from boredom..

That is what I plan to do now.. Zzz.. don’t wake me .. just yet.

The hare and the tortoise

 The hare and the tortoise..

Yes, we have heard of the tale..

Of the hare and the tortoise..

Often repeated racy tale..

Of the fast hare and the slow tortoise

How the tortoise won .. in the race

Coz the hare chose to sleep..

Over confident of her pace..

Guess the morale is rather deep..

That the  tortoise won with a steady pace

Over the impatient hare..

Just the other day at the neighborhood park,

I had a chat with that very tortoise..green and dark

His reticent views I sought on this infamous race

He did mumble  in his slow analytical drawl..

Oh! We , tortoises, we crawl slow at our own pace …

None can make us even want to race or even crawl..

But yes, that hare, I sure loved her company dear..

Hence I crawled to follow her to the finish line..clear

And from the corner of the park, did a hare peek..and crept 

And said, it ain’t only the winners who share their tale..

Let me share my tale on why through the race, I slept

Fake news! That race was no race as purported in the tale..

It was just me running ahead and waiting for my friend ..

For my friend, my tortoise to join me in some fun

I would always wait for him,  my tortoise friend..my one

If he takes very long, I may nap and zzz till he joins in the fun..

But wait I will, for when it is the two of us, it is fun

All this story of a race .. ain’t true.:..

It is just  the two of us  having fun at our pace

Love and Friendship true..

Not  for us , this worldly race!!

The hare and the tortoise ..

We just have fun

I know not to love less, 

I know not to not want to be loved more.

In this ignorant dance of less and more..

Somehow, just somehow. 

I am left.. loving you more and more

As you love me less and less

In this ignorant dance of less and more

Somehow, just somehow..

I become myself less and less..

More and more 

 My heart is a storyteller, every moment..high and pale

She weaves in joy, tears and euphoria, and love’s might

A story for my  every moment .. a poem .. a tiny tale..

She knows not to weave her pen..with carefree light..

She gives it her all, every heartbeat  for every tale..

Her stories  often weave the same plot, wrong or right..

She loves you with a love  that stains the ink in every tale..

Love her back, this moment and more.. hold her tight..

The poetic heart needs you …as a ribcage to hold those tales..

Even though time and I may interrupt , Hold that heart tight..

Silence her poems with love.. That would be a tale beyond her tales.

 There are so many things on sale today and everyday,

Skin serums to keep your skin smooth and supple..

Fancy high heels to make them turn and say .. Hey!

Apps for fitness .. on Android and Apple..

Dresses that swirl and twirl; Jewelry that make your day

And yet, all I want .. is not here.. I grapple..

For all I want is a hug, a kiss, some attention simple..

Love … is all I ever wanted and want..  and Yes, You! hey!

 They talk of good karma, and moksha..for all of us

If you believe in Ram..or Shiva or the thousand gods

And yes, there is heaven if you believe in Allah, or Jesus

I wonder what describes the heaven we find,  the gods.

We ever so unexpectedly find, amongst each of us..

In the friendships and love we share and Almost like gods..

We create the beautiful, when we love another more than ourselves..

In moments of tenderness, laughter, mirth and kindness,  there is a god..

Undescribable but there ever so hidden in plain sight amongst ourselves..

I write this verse .. and a song plays on my playlist.. what if god was one of us?

 When I drape a saree, A pretty one in red

And yes , those  earrings..that dangle 

An anklet, a necklace and a shiny bangle

A little Kajal and maybe a lipstick cherry red

I face the world.. trying to be a pretty face

And then my heart tells me, ever so kindly..

You are beautiful, my dear.. yes, ever so gently..

When he, your love, looks at your face..

You truly are beautiful..

When love looks at you face to face….

Beautiful.

 Today, as I sat down to make a clay Ganesha on Ganesh Chaturthi.. I thought of writing a poem for He who created us..

As I try my hand at making your idol,

Your elephant trunk and deity face..

I wonder if this is how you prototyped my face .

In your head, did you decide to add my mole ..

As an afterthought, I often thought …

The way I love with no ability to hold back

My quick anger and quirky clumsiness..

My fickle mind that sways between hard work and laziness

Did you add  all that or was that my Karma paying back

As an afterthought, I often thought…

Every win and obstacle, my fate you decide 

My life, my choices …are they really mine…

Or is life and it’s game all pre decided for what is mine..

Tell me, Oh Ganesha, is all an illusion of choice..to decide 

An afterthought, I often thought..

Mt only  real choice.. to love and go with the flow

To know that I am a speck in your cosmos infinite

That all my logic and desires are but fine

Making a Ganesha as I let my thoughts flow

I am an afterthought, I often thought.

 All I ever asked from this world was an all consuming love..

All I ever got from this world was everything but that..love

To always be standing at the crossroad .. of love

Where I  endlessly want and give ..and love

The ones I love are always timid to love..

It is as though time and again, time tests my love..

I fail in love ..

Today

 I write because the scribe listens..

He lets me pour my heart and  soul..my love

He understands my pain, he listens..

I am never alone with his presence… my love

My scribe and I.. he gets me more..

Than you ever will..my love..

For he is my pen to open my soul..

He is there when you aren’t..,my love 

He accepts my every mood..with love

Yes, he loves me more..

Though I love you more ..

 Does every relationship have a name?

Does the name define the relationship?

Does the relationship define the name?

Does a nameless relationship have a name?

Is she your lover because you held her?

Is she your lover because you love her?

Is she your lover  because you made love to her?

Is she your lover because she loves you so?

Is she your lover because you can’t deny the love?

Is she your love r because you cannot live without her?

Is she your lover because you can’t live with her

Does love not suffice it all?

Why do we name it? When we can call it love

Why do we question it? When the reason is love

With us.. with you

 In the threads of meaningless conversations, words

How are you? .. and Are you okay?

A deeper thread hidden entwined in unsaid words

 It really says..

That with you, I am okay..

Goodnight and Hello.. trivial words..

Meaningless sounds.. to fit in the norm..ok?

Carrying endless waves of  love..unexplained in words

It really says..

That with you, we are okay

Pliant to my master potter

I am but clay in your hands.. My master potter

Mould and pat me to the shape ..the softness you desire,

Pliable …surrendering to the powerful hands of my potter

Whither it is joy or pain , your will… my desire

Hold me, work me. spin me in your destiny wheel

Till my muddy muddled mind becomes all heart

Bake me in thy heat, where your warmth I feel

Till I willingly set to the shape of your heart 

Please.. is all I have to say ..as I feel

 In the Medina of Marrakech, beware

There are street hawkers peddling their ware,

The snake charmers and the henna artists..

All wooing the curious naive tourist..

Like the crafty playboy of your teens, love or desires

Who promises a lifetime and gives you a fake moment..

These hawkers promise the panacea to all desires,

Yet the tourist.. she loves it all,  living in the moment ..

Knowing they are cheats, she still naively gives in..

The joy of surrendering to foolish desires ..

Even if you know you are an idiot goin in

Pink flamingo

 There are pink flamingoes

Pink Flamingos that fly

Fly in middle eastern deserts

They thrive the harsh and the cruel

.. our love.. a pink flamingo 

 Black roses, they bloom,

By the banks of River Euphrates..

Nowhere else, they say..

Your love for me, it bloomed

When I was beside you..

Nowhere else, I say 

The Sonnet’s curse and a limerick’s arse

I sat down to write a limerick..a tease

Instead, I wrote a long verse, taking my time

Perverse like the urge to pick your nose, or to sneeze

The poet  in me feels an urge to write in rhyme

The sonnet long has 14 lines from bad to worse..

The poet must write long lines, thought she earns not a dime

At the most awkward of times, she breaks into a verse

In her alphabet soup, there lands a poem lame or sublime..

ABABCDCDEFEFGG, is the sonnet’s curse

To make the poem fit the Shakespeare's quatrains..

She forces words to ryhme and that is her curse

In rhymes and syllable rules, life’s meaning drains..

More rules to make it a sonnet?, My verse refuses to be that party bore..

No more darn rules, I will stick with free verse and lore

A limerick, again needs to rhyme...

Has to be funny  to stand the test of time...

And bawdy like yes..Edward Lear

Forced to be funny, my verse now just wipes the rear

Who has the time to make a funny verse rhyme

Rules to make it a limerick? My verse refuses to be that  party bore..

No rules for me, I will stick with free verse and lore