Symphony of Seas

Words are bubbles that reach
The surface of sunshine and foam
To be lost in the surge of tourists on shore
Who splash and dash
And tan and leave
And never there is
A peep into deep.

Yet, in a corner of rubble and rocks
One still sees
In silence and still
The bubbles that rise
And will not stay put.

Clouds and waves, now meet and mate
Here on the floor of her eyes that glisten
With dews from the dawn-smeared grass.

These be the translated pearls from the deep
Which for the moment shall gleam,
And strung with care shall afterwards sing
Symphony of seas to her heart.

Hieroglyphs

Unsure steps on sodden stones
Send a smoke to glimmering stars
Through the chinks in leafy tent,
Where perhaps they may condense,
Hieroglyphs of shared minds,
Which no parchment scroll contains,
In these logs of scraps and tweets.

Mingling still in unknown crowds,
I speak a coral language now;
Too far down from jostling foams;
Waiting for one daring plunge
Into the cliffs that nestle in deep.

Circus of Fear

Rubble has blocked our gates.
Buried in heaps
Of girdles and beams
We peep in fear
And browse in the dark -
Homes we had fled
Are razed in flames.

Still the world laughs
And fawningly accepts,
Democratic farce
Of homeless and dead.

Driven into flocks
Of manufactured need,
We've lost our cells
To feel others' loss
And parrot like apes
What's printed and screened.

Left without a net,
We trapeze in the air
As blank stares gawk
In a circus of fear.

Cry Mumbai!

'These tears are shaken from the wrath-bearing tree'

                                                   Gerontion, T.S. Eliot                   

For us, the scrolling stats and pics;

For you, the jaws of tightening fear.

Blood, rubble, corpse and tears –

Packed for us in distant calm,

Garnished with all expert views.

Who knows where the experts are

When your streets are ripped in flames!

Faintest glimmer of hope must die

Here the death of thousand bombs,

For some to climb on skulls to reach

Heavenly horde of whores of God!

These the digital tears I have –

How else to weep and mourn your loss?

What else for us who safely watch

Mortal wounds you daily bear?

The neighbour’s child has painted red

The sea that laps your hapless shore.

Abyss and After...

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Trapped in the hall
Of mirrors, I strive
To shatter and scatter
With swords I've forged
In tunnels in the dark.

Shingles now pierce
And jab to the bones
As I wrestle with beasts
And crawl to the gates.

What light, what flight -
Beyond these molten caves?

Choked with smoke I hear
Warbling waves on shore.