By the light of day,
I study the masterpieces;
block by block
master life's carousel
A carousel of words .
They call me a poet
A cornucopia of words,
dispersed under serene mind groves,
is in my treasure chest.
I have every word dated,
circled in bold
packed in parcels of nostalgic revelry.
My creativity is in ripples
Memory in a watery grave
my words are in a bashful bell jar,
blushing with the red of desire.
A desire to pick up words,
from Fresco ceilings of the Martinian library,
fish symbols on the city gateway,
words picked from dappled sunsets
viewed from apartment corridors,
from gastronomic scents of curry joints.
Goblin markets of midnight sleepwalking,
toy with book stores holding twigs of my vision.
A parallel drift towards genius
An eyelid floating on symphonies of amnesia.
Two score days and more have passed
since I refused to recognise my house address,
locate my name plate and designation.
***
Today, I create geometric patterns
from zig zagging memories,
memories lost at the Bhool Bhulaiya,
a labyrinth of my mind,
of candle wicks moist with apathy.
Then a book- my life force-
is settled on my lap.
I cradle it like a baby.
I inhale the faint smell of poetry
Then turn to my guardian,
"who is this gentleman,
is he new?",
tilting my eclipse
on a gallery of still images;
unable to trace the origin of his name
as I imbibe the faint water in my eyes.
"who is this gentleman?"
A name out of the woodwork
lost in a 100 foot reservoir.
..............
YOU ARE READING
WHISTLING CHIMES
PoetryTHIS IS AN ASSORTMENT OF POEMS THAT VARY IN MOOD, THEME AND VISION. VERSATILITY IS MY COMMON AIM AND I HAVE POURED OUT MY HEART AND SOUL INTO EACH OF THESE WORKS. I HOPE MY VISION FINDS A MIRROR IN YOUR HEARTFELT RESPONSES. LET THIS POETIC JOURNEY...
