Pied beauty

All things are pied inside the sea
With trout that have rose- moles.

Now priest poet looks at the sky.
Thanks God for its finest freckles.

Meadow’s cows are bald and pied
Shivering bodies ,lightly speckled

Like serrated clouds in God’s sky
Shivering skins off monsoon flies.

We thank God for poet in His sky
Who points at its freckled beauty.

In beach ,we smell turtle’s deaths
And the voracious crows on them.

All things are pied in God’s beauty
But who do we blame for smells?

(On reading Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poem Pied Beauty)


This side of the mountain

Back when it was a smoke of fire wood
Women blew a breath into earth stoves

And men brought in bag of vegetables
From someone’s farm and in river boat

They brought a mountain’s other side
With its grocery and high-necked pots

From village weekly fair with trinkets.
The pots would grow big with the rice

And there were no wardrobes to store
One’s clothes and it was high-necked

Pots that hid them in bottom shadow
And the pots pained as they cracked.


Sea from the balcony

Glass went blue on the hazy sea
At a sky where it dropped down.

Crowd on the beach were crows.
Perhaps it was other way round.

We could write with our fingers
On grime in other side of a glass

If only we could hang in the sky
And sketch alphabet for the sea.

Outside windows, sea was pure,
In salt and dead fishes of boats.

A cleaner would hang on ledge
And wipe sea’s vaporous cloud

Till sea turned orange and blue.
At dawn ,sea is blue in window.


Grass roots

Vetiver is a grass root I smelled
Long ago, what I recall in shirt.

The shirt I wore was a long ago
When I was  child of yesterday

And I had uprooted grass bulb
And perfumed my shirt pocket.

Its perfume would last in shirt,
Till washer man beat it on rock.

Grass root smell remains alive,
Till old memory wears it down.

(reading John Ashbery’s poem Vetiver– Vetiver is a pleasant smelling root of a type of grass commonly found in India, supposed to be having medicinal properties)


Before dawn

Dark clouds  are  at sea’s end
Like mountains at lake’s edge.

Clouds obliterate endless sea
That sailed away to America.

Between me and dark clouds
Are ships that flickered lights.

A lone star flickers after  sky
As if it is another ship’s light.

Lighted boats glide smoothly,
The rattle heard as soft hum.

Horse shoe moon grows pale.
A gray sky slowly turns ochre.