mottled sky

blushed peach puffs
fall into the arms of
brusque blue clouds
with tears of relief
washing out the sky
leaving her face
mottled yet rejoicing
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showtime

you.

 “yes…me” (pleading eyes) it’s showtime.

 what?

 “well I…” (eyes down, blush) slow down, more emotion

 yes?

 “I was helpless…I didn’t really know you for you until i went astray”

 do you really expect me to believe that?

 (nodding-nods) no.

 I thought…

 (meet eyes, peer within) check mate.

 No not again…I won’t be fooled

 “yes…i swear” (anguish, pitiful pleading anguish)
how dare he question?

 fine. what happened…happened

 (look down, stay still) quick wipe that smirk off

 so what now?

 “I….I need more time” (sigh) again, more defeated and sad (sigh)

 why do you need more time?

“hmmm….because.” (shut eyes. turn head. dismissed)

lies take time you know…

is love..it is…

is love the enjoyment of the moment hoping that it never ends?

it is the yearning for a moment that will never come…

is love saying i love you and meaning it?

it is saying i love you silently, masking its meaning from fear of any one soul hearing it…

is love knowing you should say i love you more often?

it is not being able to say it at all…

is love remembering the sweet times spent together?

it is living in the minute moments that takes a bit of you each time.

is love feeling hatred at only the moment of anger?

it is living in hatred of not being loved…

is love leaving your loved one, loved?

it is leaving without ever telling them they are loved…

is love being beside your lover at all times?

it is the pain of staying alongside and yet so far away from realization…

is love for giving up for the sake of peace?

it is giving up love for everyone’s sake but yours…

is love wanting to touch and wanting to be touched?

it is when the touch of breath upon words is enough…

is love wanting to be together always?

it is hoping to be together but knowing it is never…

My Bollywood Song

Another “just for fun” poem/dialog between imagined voices from Indian cinema and the critical fan.

there’s something wrong with my Bollywood song
it refuses to be written
it rejects the ridicules
that i aim to comically outline
it fails to fall into form
or cooperate in rhyme:

i point out crab grass under calloused feet

“that does not matter see how they joyfully dance to the beat”

i point out our glaring lights that burn upon the skin

“ahh but it only shines upon the light that shines within”

but what about leather in the desert and sarees in the alps?

“i’m not going to argue, no hint, no clue, no help”

but..but what about the crimes against fashion in the dance?

“hmm what no no it’s step, twirl, back, side, side, jump, one step advance”

Alright fine!….forget the dance…but the lyrics can’t be sung they’re all just mimed!

“yes,yes talented singers we have for that!…Plus lyricists that
wonderfully rhyme!”

goofy, silly, freakish steps for each movie’s song is extreme!

“to the ignorant yes, one who cannot appreciate a choreographer’s creativity, or the hard work of the dance team”

How about the fake expressions of fun, happiness, love and lust?

“the actors portray them vividly, that we fully trust!”

even after practice, rehearsals, re-dos and cuts…nothing is fully correct…

“That is human nature no one including critics are ever that per-fect”

So are you asking who am I to comically satirize?

“Well with the lengths you go to criticize…”

Oh ho we will see the when all your ex-fans fraternize!

“Too bad, too sad to see one so vehemently hate an actor’s successful rise”

Us keen movie-watchers always errors and mistakes do spy!

“Yet us movie-makers still manage to make you watch and join us in a laugh or cry”

it is real

it is real
it happens

yet there seems to be no place for it
when there are so many other tangible, physical, material things to be had.

there is no room for something that takes up no such space
do not search for it, it is not lost, just waiting to be found.

when word cannot define it but waits for the claim to label it
what need do we have of something that could be anything?

i cannot prove you have it,
i have to take your word for it
the same word that cannot define
what it is you and i cannot see
but what we feel…

touch upon a word

let me reach out
and touch upon a word…

a word that lets you share
that which i feel
and fail to tell
how it scars the soul

every shudder trembles
as that memorable wound is touched upon
once more….

why should you not know how it feels?

to hear the morning dew whisper
to feel the pulse of loving words
to see the heavenly sound of melodies

bitter tears shared have a sweetness of their own…

and however love may be praised it too grows jealous
of not being felt the same by all.

A Selection of the background score to the movie “Azaghi” by Ilayaraja

quick-fix

What would it be like? i ask
and you are bemused.

pity pools in your eyes
escaping before
a knowing smile tugs into a smirk.

how will you ever know?
say your lips
politely pursed shut.

will you ever know?
instinctively your head
shakes no, no.

Startled.

Blanch…tighten…rigid…re-mask.

a hand rubbed face

erases…

an imperceptible nod

encourages instead.