Hibiscus

We have never looked deep in its heart
It carries at the top waving in a breeze.
Cognition names it hibiscus for poems

But poems are no hibiscus, with anther,
At summit sprinkling pollen on breeze.
Airy creatures will land on the summit.

They will make it a hibiscus pure view
For stamen to nod in excited whispers
And a breeze to carry a floral message.

Cats in the clouds

Rainless and cotton-white it had turned
A whiskered cat staring down from eye

Over a spiked antenna of the neighbor
A picture of a ghostly vision of a feline.

How can it disappear from my picture?
It is as if cloud cats jump walls to vanish

In the bushes to the other side of a tree.
An eye-hole stays but the rest of the cat

Has gone , cat-silent and rubber-footed .
A cloud-eye is what remains of its ghost.

Cats disappear from sky’s white clouds
The same way as they do in the real life.

Lines

A few red spots turn lines as a sun dies.
They are on blue sky flying southwards.

Birds are white spots under fingernails.
Fingers flutter wings to call birds down.

Tiny red spots disappear from dusk sky
And the body turns to sky at a soft dusk

And azure, beyond a brown rock of lake.
The lake swirls around the birdless rock

And the rock swirls around birdless sky
Birds turned fingers fluttering as wings

Calling other birds down from dusk sky.
Birds are now white spots, v’s on canvas

May be lines from white spots in fingers.
Sky is a line joining white spots of birds.

The rock is a line living in the lake’s line .
Sky is fine line living above a lake’s line.

Moon pieces

The boy in knickers ,who is the old poet,
Could not bend too low for fear in belly.
Fear perked up like piece of balcony sky

And crawled in half-pants to feet below.
The bucket fell to it with deep dull thud
As its rope had slithered down a pulley

Like vague water snake searching frogs.
The waters came up to sprinkle moons,
In tiny puddles on the stone saucer rim.

The jungle flower

Near a lazy rock and a moss green sky
A jungle flower would bloom whitely,

A toothed wheel of a tiny locomotion.
The breeze stirred its shape into many,

With false feet of anthers , disheveled,
Hair of dancing to a morning breeze.

Near its heart is a dash of soft orange
Set in a white crystal of perfect view,

With contrapuntal note by brown bee
Hovering to its hesitant landing away

From prying camera for macro views.
The rock rose grandly to summer sky

Looking down on single jungle flower
A white pride in its green rock bottom.

The bee landed briefly on bee outlines,
Many shapes vaguely embracing bee.

White clouds

In the sky, as preternatural birds ,
Lay soft white clouds, full of rain

Drops for rose plants by the lake
Lying in wait for someone ‘s car

Boot to pick up ,so as to co-exist
With clothes hung on balconies.

The white clouds are wet clothes
Hung by the sky gods for drying.

Meantime , the white clouds will
Be temporary cat’s eyes peering

Down in our camera’s pure view
To lie in wait as permanent eyes.