In art for my Father, in politics too
Nothing contrived, could ever be true

Forms that shackled, words that stopped
Only served as the clumsiest props
Real expression, should it be coaxed

Arrived like a breath, not forced by a choke

Perhaps, we need to sit and be patient
Expecting too much from a world so ancient
Nascent art, like life, will grow
Near to the rivulet pens that flow,
Year upon year, inscribed, patient, slow.

u r truth.....u know it

just woke up after a dream
saw old foggies
all under the
Thames since ages
come alive
some from Nile
some Mississippi
Amazon and Ganges
Brahmaputra too
many friendly Aussies
and were asking me
when am I joining

it's lovely upstairs
all is free
they only miss their cells
all asked me to bring theirs
how to do help them
friendly ones
tell

Swan Lake
a morning of glory
pristine water
shimmering light
gilding swans
black and white.

a gliding light
soaring high
above the tides
twirling, spinning
in the wind
a white crane nearby.

Curse not the rain
when you need its sustenance
to quench your thirst
and wash away your dirt.

Each droplet of heavenly tears
is a blessing for all that lives
under the endless stretch of the sky.

When it returns to you,
welcome it with a smile
for it keeps you fresh
to dance with life.

So much to be done in a small human space,
such turmoil within, without disgrace

If all that conformity needs us to be
a shingle in the roof that reality

Requires, to shelter us from rebels that fall
like plummeting lead shot, molten in balls

From within the time-ticking eye, we call sanity,
Pause for a while and think on it all

Were you wrenched from the womb to subsist?
or did you come, willing traveller, answering the call

To thrive, more than exist?
Caught in a madman’s' vision of pain

my second coming...

is like coming of that dawn
every morn
we await in slumber
as the rays creep
into our bedrooms in number
awake
say the warming rays of dawn
'tis morn
and 'tis long since you were born
wake up I have come
and I am dawn
your loving morn

slumber no more
ere I am gone
and
have grown to become that morn
which you now think
you are forlorn
ere you were reborn
wake up says the dawn
I have been just born
don't feel forlorn!

BROKEN LIGHTS

I wanted to write a short poem
today,
but my words like ghosts
quickly fade away
and my soul has grown silent
and cold.
my heart in darkness
shrouds the splendor of a world
that once glowed in me.
I am lost in a void ….
no Light to see
no voice to sing
nothing

The bricks glitter
with passing snails,
in natures beauty
all else pales

The dew on the tips
spectacular at dawn,
fields like diamonds
glitter the morn

Rays of light
shoot in the sky,
mapping a course
in my left eye

The rivers breeze
caresses the trees,
tugging on leaves
watch their frieze

stillness surrounds
the red back hills,
everyone asleep
on last nights pills