4 tanka

1.

how swift
the play of light
over pebbles
under water...
my invalid mornings

2.

gazing at sunset
me and a fellow patient--
two crows
sitting quietly apart
on a slender autumn branch

3.

the earth shook
when I saw you again
at the race
my horse had always
trailed behind yours

4.

blue hydrangeas
in my garden
turn to pink
how can one lessen
the acid in your words

Haiku

1.

a sinking stone--
where have I kept
your promises


2.

sunset--
she still enquires
which way

haiku

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

haiku

summer glint
in the chipmunk’s eye
my childhood dream

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'.

sickle moon (haiku)

sickle moon...
white petunias surround
my tomb

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

Haiku

his gray stubble
coloured by sunset
the acacia thorns

2 Haiku

1.

at dawn
a lotus unfurls—
sounds of adhan



2.

peeling the onion
what keeps her
from speaking

Tanka

a fireball
streaks across
the twilight sky--
she slowly spreads
her anti-aging cream

haiku

her dimples--
the waggle dance
of honey bees

Tanka

a crisp wind
rustles through leaves
in autumn
the beast in me
swirls and struggles

2 haiku

picking up
the greener pea pods
grandma’s fingers

**

a flurry
in the rainforest--
the songbird

Valentine Day tanka

Valentine hearts
dangling in the wind
until one drops--
I remember the sun
setting in her eyes

The feather touch of a sigh

It rained last night,
and one could smell the clouds
in the morning breeze

It was a stifled evening
words trickled between us
as beads of sweat on your forehead

Then a gush of a fair wind
gentle feathers of a bird's wing
caressed your tears

Then came the drizzle
the hidden aroma from the earth
that rose quietly

And it poured

We shared one last sigh
along with the final passing train
of the night