Would it not be great if we could clip our flaws like hair or nail,
and they’d grow back clean for us to be better again?
And if that were the case do you ever wonder,
when all’s cut and done, what would even remain?
So I made a list of all that to remove, bone from sinew.
To care about a cause that holds no personal reward,
refrain from hearsay and back-fence talk.
To seed integrity and grow a garden of faith,
won’t undo history but there’s at least hope for green ahead.
A caveman in routine – rise, work and fall with the sun,
A sage in impulse – think with the head. No, not that one.
After all, pleasure is reserved for the deserving,
what have you ever done?
To devour words and craft a hundred delicacies,
unearth new tunes and maybe even newer people.
To rein in thoughts yet leave dreams uncaged.
Revel in solitude but please keep the drawbridge down –
for the goal is to be happy alone, not unknown.
To free these hands of phones,
and make space for another to hold.
If all else fails, to just be a little better.
Hopefully this time next year, this list is much shorter.
I did not notice the fish tank in the background until much later when I was going through the photos we took that night and this was inadvertently caught in one corner. The absurdity initially did make me chuckle as I thought to myself what the fish must feel like stuck behind a glass pane and having to watch other dead fish day in and day out. Is it sad? Is it glad that no one’s killed it yet? However, the current scene in India with the back and forth strikes at the Line of control and the whole country praising war through memes on social media (So much 21st century in one sentence, amirite?), it got me thinking – We are all that fish silently watching other fish die from behind glass panes we so conveniently carry in our palms.
~ Transcript ~
Dipped in rhyme,
“Must all your verse end in vain?”
A happy ending-
-needs no friend.
It’s poetry born tucked in bed.
An end in ache –
It only sleeps
rocked all night by my poem’s breeze.
~ Transcript ~
I watched you grow, on land, by my side.
With sand for feet, the sea for eyes, you’d say –
“As soon as I’m whole, I’ll conquer the tide.”
Lips curved with yours, neck nodded along,
Hands cradling the knot that held you at bay.
In a blink, you were ready, whole and taut.
Sails blew full, oars kissed the sea.
I whispered a prayer, let go your knot –
“Wary of the whirls, wary of the winds.”
“I know daddy, now please let me be?”
Can’t follow you through. Not made for that.
Rockaway my little boat. I’ll watch you roam.
Storm the ocean, plant your flag.
In case of need, those times of rotten luck,
Look above, I burn just to guide you home.
Photograph : Property of @luminosilhouette
~ Transcription ~
To the house that was never built,
Had my eyes set fifty years to the morrow –
How the sun would dance on the front porch,
To the crooked treehouse in the backyard.
Cut the strongest of wood,
Called the bravest of men.
Seventeen weeks of drawing up plans,
set on canvas, set foot on the ground.
But I did not know the ground would shake.
How could I know the ground would shake?
~ Transcription ~
A Rude Interruption
Scaled the skies, a grey cloud.
Split my path, a solemn rock.
Welled from within, one thousand drops.
Fell to your skin, home at last.