Windchime Row

A fishing colony by the sea , just beside the beach .
A little street and left and right , five shanties each ,
and two more on the right hand side , they're abandoned though ,
the fishing colony by the sea I call Windchime Row .

Whenever I happen to be walking down that lane ,
I almost never ; fail to hear ; every now and then ,
the wind playing poet with the windchimes , and with many a gentle touch ,
composing so many wordless rhymes that speak just as much ,

as if a thousand songs were sung , but you have to have the ear ,
and the belief in your heart , only then you can hear ,
the poetry in the gusts of salty sea breeze , as they come and go ,
in the fishing colony by the sea I call Windchime Row.

A strange musing

A very beautiful sight caught my eye.
windborne dandelion seeds floating by.

Then, a very curious thought came to mind,
Are we too plants; but; of a different kind,

seeded by some strange seed unknown,
that brings life to flesh, blood and bone,

thus making us blossom like a flower,
and breaking free at life's closing hour,

like seeds from a matured pod, it flies,
invisible to the human eyes,

as we end in ashes or a tomb,
to fertile lands, a baby in a womb?

Little Leaf

Little leaf, please hold on ,
as long as you can , to your tree .
Soon , like the autumn just gone ,
another will come , and you will see ,
as you fall , you will float away .
You might feel happy that you are free
and blown by the wind you will go your separate way
but this pleasure will not last long
and you will find to your dismay
the summer sun so strong
that you can no more bear
the warmth that now feels scorching hot
but was once so dear
and you will dry up and drift with a similar lot
of dried leaves , that , like you , are free,
So , little leaf , please hold on ,
as long as you can , to your tree.

Fairy Wings

To soothe my crying child I said
'Look , here are wonderful things ,
a fairy gave to me for you ,
her pair of little wings',

and I showed her what I found by chance
from a cobweb nearby.
Two little brownish shiny wings
of a dragonfly.

with tender loving care
and with joy beyond a measure ,
with little hands , she took from me ,
her precious little treasure.

If she remembers till the time
when she's a little older
I am sure she'd find
the lie that I told her,

but till the day she comes to know
that such a thing there is ,
I would happily show her all
the dragonflies as fairies.

Desperation

My words don't rhyme anymore
the rhythm is gone.
Like dewdrops on leaves
on a winter morn ,

that fast fade
with the maturing day,
my rhythms and rhymes
have all faded away

into disturbing noise
and meaningless prose
that I wish I could not hear
that I wish I dint compose.

TIME

Time is like an ocean vast,
along the shores I walk .
Beyond the horizon future lies ,
the present visible to the eyes ,
as the open sea , the crashing waves,
upon the shore , along the shore ,
and I never cease to find ,
seashells , memories left behind .

The Shefali Flower Tree

Flowers in my garden,
lots and lots and lots .
Roses and lavenders
and blue forget-me-nots
and just beside the garden wall
stands the shefali flower tree ,
little flowers fall
one and two and three
and many many more
form branches full of blossom
brilliant orange white.
I cannot turn my eyes from it
it is such a wonderful sight .