Monday, June 24, 2013

a cup of coffee for you...


I want to make a cup of coffee for you
at dusk
when the sky will be fuchsia pink.
While hearing the tip-tapping rain in the wind 
and the thud thudding heartbeat of the soil
I will let the liquid dreams and
fragrant desires to blend and simmer.
I will wonder, as I whip gently the
pearl white of the milky cream,
how the coffee tastes against your
lips, your teeth, your tongue.
I will stir the sugar and allow the magic
of the steaming cloud hang heavy and
I will test the ready ness of the cup 
imagining
will it sting or will it be just right!
The vapors from the storming cup
like rust golden beads on my forehead
and I will pour that anticipated light brown
into your cup,
a shade that fits between the tamarind of my skin
and the golden desert sand of yours,


almost the colour of my possible child.



Friday, June 14, 2013

that obstinate headstrong life-force ...

 I wonder how I
constantly tread this hyphenated zone!
If I turn off the light the moths will die
and so will the bats if I turn it on.
Should I spend life searching for an anchor
or shouldn't I just tear off the sails
and let it be?

How good is living
on a handful of yesterday,
an existence
neither real, nor fantasy,
like the alluring horizon
between the Earth and the Sky,
at an arm’s length away,
but ever distant?

Why do I fill my book of poems
with haphazard listless things?
A mail box with drafts, remotes, phones,
a crossword page of an old newspaper,
five odd books, a gift that you had refused to take,
some songs that I listen to endlessly,
a few old snapshots;
all flung heedlessly, uncaring,
here and there;
Just about anything to fill the void
that once has been your side of the story.

YET
even now,
 between the breaths
lurks a stubborn dream
defying all other doubts;
A dream that often morphs into a bird
and take colourful wings
preparing itself for an ambitious flight
to soar higher and paint the sky.

And I throw away my existential despair
like a pair of old, worn out shoes
and I remember to plant a seed, all over again,
and wait for the moss green sapling
to raise its obstinate head!