1.
picnic
by the waterfall
Ganesha bathes
2.
paper cranes—
unfolding her letters
after a decade
3.
yelling amidst
my unrestrained coughs
the neighbour’s dog
4.
waves recede
nothing can fill
the vacant air
My photographic obsession
I admit I'm no Bresson; neither do I yearn
to receive any acclaim other than a broad smile
in front of my mirror,
Yet, the appetite for artistry intensifies
with each single stroke of the shutter-bag.
In my stubborn quest for a brief moment of
enlightenment(or even serendipity), I've carefully
managed to overlook the odd ogles from strangers,
until the other day one gentle hand
tapped on my shoulder:
Sir, how much money do you make out
from your pictures?
Turning around, I noticed the speaker.
An average- witted-looking sickly boned fellow
adorned with a clichéd smile and somber outfit,
observing me with a good portion of interest.
With my usual fumble, I did my best to convey
that I have, in my two-year-long ascending passion
of creativity, never ever been troubled
by material obligations;
His smile vanished like thawing ice creams
in a hot summer evening,
and muttering unmentionables
he withdrew to his sordid former self
and vanished.
I realized, minutes later,
I had missed the 'face of the day'.
to receive any acclaim other than a broad smile
in front of my mirror,
Yet, the appetite for artistry intensifies
with each single stroke of the shutter-bag.
In my stubborn quest for a brief moment of
enlightenment(or even serendipity), I've carefully
managed to overlook the odd ogles from strangers,
until the other day one gentle hand
tapped on my shoulder:
Sir, how much money do you make out
from your pictures?
Turning around, I noticed the speaker.
An average- witted-looking sickly boned fellow
adorned with a clichéd smile and somber outfit,
observing me with a good portion of interest.
With my usual fumble, I did my best to convey
that I have, in my two-year-long ascending passion
of creativity, never ever been troubled
by material obligations;
His smile vanished like thawing ice creams
in a hot summer evening,
and muttering unmentionables
he withdrew to his sordid former self
and vanished.
I realized, minutes later,
I had missed the 'face of the day'.
Mimicry
I observe the pattern of sun shafts
as they pierce through glass panes
A songbird striated
by ornate window grills
heralds a morning
I wonder how shadow-lines imitate
the contour of real ones
how often I detect my own tragic tales
on a bird's eye
This mimicry of umbras and penumbras
casting a checkerboard on every damn thing
that humans may perceive
Flaunts itself on the windowsill
Yet what else can sunshine offer
one plot of hope
one pothole of despair
as they pierce through glass panes
A songbird striated
by ornate window grills
heralds a morning
I wonder how shadow-lines imitate
the contour of real ones
how often I detect my own tragic tales
on a bird's eye
This mimicry of umbras and penumbras
casting a checkerboard on every damn thing
that humans may perceive
Flaunts itself on the windowsill
Yet what else can sunshine offer
one plot of hope
one pothole of despair
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