The slow, dark anger of a mountain's heart

Beyond the walls when they made love
poison from the corroded soil crept above
his were the hands those cut the trees
she burnt the branches meant for the bees
long, disturbing shadows on sloping surfaces
cried aloud when they lost ancestral traces
gone the forest, gone the spring
gone the season when he would bring
captured through leaves the sun's moving part
instead came the slow, dark anger of a mountain's heart.

Beasts

For the reasons known only to the beasts 
they rarely escaped from their eroding homes 
when trees started falling through chainsaws and wild fires, 
perhaps some myths about the lands unknown  
or the beasts did not think of self as the beasts 
but like non maligned children of the wilderness, 
or maybe they knew what horrors unfold in civil lives 
they chose to stay within the silence of the earth.

Land, Water, Wilderness

If I decide to write on land, water and wilderness
I will write about me, you and our hopes

Land

I have been limited in my reach
to craft my desires,
have seen dreams uprooted 
into barren portions unable to hold dust, 
except for some continuous small basins 
you create

Water

You are the river running across me
the rain on my parched skin,
parts of me that live
through your flows

Wilderness

Our hopes, restricted
preserved, protected
with so much to ask
for so little to have
like the wilderness.

the poem died in words

He carried her fragrances 
lingering inside his glances 
a secret, almost an affair 
desire, she uncovered layer by layer.

Few gaps in the blinds had let in sunrays 
he thought of that dawn often for days 
when resting on an elbow, she'd leaned towards 
to smile, cry and say that the poem died in words.

entire sky

With a little reluctance

she opens her palms

holding out the soil, water 

and entire sky

a firefly..

In Ordinary Circumstances

In ordinary circumstances
magic is hidden in ignored places
a flower never at your window
a hundred suns spread across highrises
and a sky that never falls.

As the day ends
the bulbs begin to glow
the river imagined has no flow
a mango tree from childhood
returns in dreams with
open fields, marigolds
fireflies
and a train smokes and whistles.

Steam engines still run
but have you thought about the mango tree
ever in the market.
It may still exist in same place
and if you ever return
hold in your eyes
a sparkle for surprise
there are fireflies
though hiding from rain.

Frantic and Fragile

She recites poetry to beautiful walls
white framed windows, purple curtains, no decoration
her back to the mirror
hands reflecting calm.

Each word rehearsed
measured hand movements
smile suggesting rushes
around her lines.

With care of her hands
hope in her smile
she hides her world
frantic and fragile.

Meaningful

A mute visitor to his eyes,
in thoughtful glimpses
she says nothing.

A Wish Not Reluctant

It is interesting to note
that the vagaries of heart
are often pleasing at the start
unreasonable choices
most loved voices
a wish not reluctant in any part.

 Logic in sensibilities
are misleading to sight
charms contain what words ignite
foolish desires
a man amongst liars
imaginations of the birds in flight
cannot be the same, right?

Wilds of Heart

Return to me
when the colours disappear,
in the wilds of heart
I have grown a rainbow.