Autumn Moon Read online

  Evening

  Grief settles on me,

  when the evening shadows

  stop in the forest

  and look back

  at the forlorn trail,

  as the dust sprawls

  in the fading light.

  Strained note

  The notes are the same.

  The music is the same.

  The same riot of colours.

  The same spreading fragrance.

  Dew drops still

  cling to the branches.

  The breeze tiptoes

  across the leaves.

  Boughs lean over the lake

  to see their reflection.

  Yet, there is

  another note,

  the note of silence

  suspended from your voice.

  Silence

  Windows are shut.

  Walls are numb.

  The sullen doors

  look the other way.

  All the sounds of the day

  are buried under the floor.

  The world is locked

  in a somber silence.

  The night is

  on its last breath.

  Just a drop of your voice

  may breathe life in it.

  Moonlight

  In the forest

  on a fullmoon night

  when moonlight drizzles,

  sequins jingle in the leaves.

  In the forest

  on a fullmoon night,

  await and listen

  under the sheesham tree.

  Someone calls your name

  in a sad, moist voice.

  Since how many centuries,

  has the voice of moonlight

  been looking for you?

  Limelight

  Stars stay suspended

  from the sky.

  Sparks circle around

  the pupils of my eyes.

  Sticky spots of light

  enshrined on my vision.

  As I shut my eyes,

  slivers of light

  prick my eyelids.

  Put me in the lap

  of velvet darkness.

  Put a patch

  of dense darkness

  on my open eyes,

  lest I be blinded

  by the boiling lava

  of luminous light.

  Bubble

  Man is a bubble

  on the surface of water:

  It bursts.

  It sinks.

  It comes up.

  It floats again.

  Neither the ocean

  can swallow it,

  nor history break it.

  On the waves of time

  he is ever floating

  like a water bubble.

  The eternal man.

  Stuck

  Find a tool.

  Find a way.

  I don't know

  what is stuck;

  I don't know

  what is jammed.

  The night does not close,

  the day does not open.

  Find a tool.

  Find a way.

  .

  Morning

  Your arms lie tangled

  like the jumbled lines

  of a poem.

  I'll open them.

  I'll kiss your eyelids

  still brimming with sleep.

  I'll brush aside

  the strand of hair

  at prayer on your lips.

  I'll place my lips

  on your ears and call you:

  Shona, O Shonal

  When you open your eyes,

  light will dawn

  on distant lakes.

  It will be morning.

  Flame

  In the still of the night

  my body burns to touch yours

  I raise my hands

  to hold the flame of your curves.

  My breathing snaps

  like strands of thread.

  My crying arms ache

  in their futile search.

  In the still of the night

  I have thought often,

  I would pour

  my burning body on yours

  and immerse this fire

  in the fire of the soul.

  Beauty

  When you appear,

  dressed in white

  on the sea shore

  on a fullmoon night,

  the cross will fall

  from Christ's hands.

  The Buddha will blink

  in His meditation.

  Your presence will stun

  even Him.

  When you appear

  all in white

  on a fullmoon night.

  Realisation

  You are mine.

  That is all I know.

  Among a swarm of eyes

  ice cold and smouldering;

  Your face caught in

  a multitude of prying looks.

  Involved, entangled,

  scared, withdrawn and coy.

  You are mine,

  that is all I know.

  Kiss

  Just a kiss,

  light and quick.

  And then a long one.

  Clusters of stars sink

  in the blue of the horizon.

  Planets stop in their orbits

  rotating in the sky.

  The long journey of time

  comes to a final halt.

  A decanted drop of dew

  hovers on the lips of a bud.

  A long kiss from your lips.

  A close embrace of your arms.

  This day

  Covered in dirt and dust,

  fatigued and frazzled.

  Wrapped in noise,

  short of breath.

  Ruffled, scorched, faded,

  Hurried and hassled.

  Bumping against walls.

  Before the night comes,

  let this day collapse,

  and meet its end.

  On some cold seashore.

  When night comes,

  it will rake

  my wounds again.

  Mask

  In the naked sun,

  I buy and sell

  and whip the slaves.

  I laugh aloud

  as I auction myself

  to please my master.

  All day long

  I make bargains.

  I compromise.

  But in the solitude

  of the night,

  I hide my face

  and keep crying.

  I am many in one.

  Many diverse faces,

  hidden in my own.

  Self

  Shining and jingling

  these coins are struck

  with the faces

  of a king or queen.

  Their status

  on the flip side.

  These coins,

  legal tender,

  are much in demand.

  Hold on for dear life,

  to the face of yourself.

  If that is erased,

  you would be discarded

  like a counterfeit coin.

  Moment

  On the tall dome

  of the steely sky,

  there hangs a sphere of fire.

  It takes long spells

  to melt down,

  a single drop of molten fire.

  When the drop falls,

  an echo resounds in space.

  Torn from Time

  another moment.

  Fiery and molten,

  falls free!

  Funeral

  A dead body lies

  on a white bed.

  Pallbearers have left

  not bothering to bury it.

  When they return

  to own the body

  and bury it,

  then only

  will I rest in peace.

  Mischief

  Stand on my sho
ulders

  and with your mischievous lips,

  kiss the moon's chin.

  The mischievous moon

  has come down crawling,

  to be close to us tonight.

  Autumn Moon

  Yellow leaves

  drop on my lawn.

  It is autumn.

  From my roof top

  I watch the moon,

  now yellow and pale.

  Will it fall

  on my lawn

  like the peepul leaf?

  Noon

  It is a desolate noon

  of the screaming sun.

  A fire-tongued demon

  licks the sky.

  On the withered tree,

  the lone kite

  balances its wings.

  Its dry eyes survey

  the mirthless space

  Where to? For whom?

  For whom?

  It is a desolate noon

  of the screaming sun.

  Balloon

  The sun is a balloon

  resting on the pointed

  peak of the mountain.

  Like a ball balanced

  on a juggler's finger.

  If you blow,

  it will fall into the sea.

  If you prick it,

  it will burst.

  Another burning day

  would be gone in a whiff.