24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The proximity of your house to mine
Smell of the wild flowers from the nearby field
It’s never the same without you all
The beauty of the sun sets
The walk in the rains
The nothingness of life
The love I felt
Without any pretense
Those fun filled days
Searching down the memory lane
A place to be
There has to be a place
Which I should remember
There has to be a place
Which meant a lot
But the memory doesn’t leads there
What
when
Can’t figure out where
It’s all so clumsy now
It’s all a mess
May be there is one
Or may be I forgot to create that special place
There has to be one
But I can’t find one
And the person
What about the person
There are many I have roamed around
May be the place where I fell for the first time
May be where I got my first wound;
I wish I could create such place
I wish I could visit that place
I wish I could remember it someday
The town
The park
The temple
To forget a few
But to remember they’re ample.
Long Lake was the place to be
At the camp, I couldn’t wait to see
1960 I think it was
This place to make memories of how it should be
The water as crystal as it could be
The fish to catch waiting for me
A turtle to catch for one short week
This place to make memories of how it should be
The night a moose came to our door
Its call was frightful to me a roar
My mother she came to my distress
This place to make memories of how it should be
My brothers there to play with me
When not looking for girls to see
We all together and all carefree
This place to make memories of how it should be
Each morning the baker delivered to us
Fresh bread, cakes, donuts, for us to buss
The fire would glow and fill us with glee
This place to make memories of how it should be
The best memories are those so sweet
But all memories will eventually fleet
No plea we make can make them see
This place to make memories of how it should be
Every night
I begged for you
Cried it to stars
Pleading to redemption
A balm to soothe these scars
Each time I had called for you
I spoken without your name
Seeing form, and unmatched voice
But truth, you never came
So blindly I wandered
Forced in the dark
Searching onward evermore
Please recognize my spark
Days turn into nights
In Silence take Last Stand
Nevermore Delirium
Lead Stray Theories hand
The sky has dropped my tears
Felt pain of my storms
Now, please give me sunshine
And blessings take strong form
Storm
Think of me when thunder bursts through dark skies.
Only then will you know the tears I’ve cried.
Remember me when lightning brightens your path,
It’s a gift both precious and stark.
You didn’t understand my pain
And took my feelings in vain.
You held my heart in your hands
And crushed it so hard it bears your brand.
I seek my solace in the storm.
Not many think it’s the norm
But who can tell my tears from the rain?
Who can tell if it’s the cold or pain?
Maybe one day we’ll meet.
You may not see me,
I may not recognise you.
I hope by then the storm ceases to rage
And understanding dawns with age.
Maybe then I’ll understand if this was my protection,
Or maybe your ultimate redemption.
Whatever the reason, I pray for peace,
And blessings so deep, they’re a permanent lease.
It suited you to walk the beach in autumn;
our friendship should not finish – you’d decided –
in the bright ebullience of a summer’s day.
You knew you’d find a better moment
in the clustering shadows of an October afternoon
so you waited patiently and drew us both
to walk, instead, the cool blue edges of an autumn shore
where the rippling light of a full moon
broke in pale lines along the unravelling waves.
I watched the sea melt and darken to the sky,
not understanding that as we left the beach that night
our friendship would remain, derelict, behind.
It is a sad thing, this drawing down of friendship;
and sadder still, to choose a time to end.
But autumn is a time for emptying and for letting go
And autumn was when I lost my friend.
The basement was a refuge,
A place to play hide and seek.
In hot summer months, the cool concrete,
Granted us sweet relief.
The piano was old and out of tune,
You could still plunk many a melody.
The four square marks by masking tape,
Made for game that were unique.
When the storm sirens would blow,
The basement would shelter us,
Beneath the stairs we would stay.
The sleeping bags for camping out,
Indoors where we would play.
Laundry was done in the basement,
Dad’s tools lined the workbench wall.
Storage of suitcases, old photographs,
Baby clothes from our first days.
The basement was for us many things,
A memory not gone away.
In this trip down the memory lane
I closed my eyes for just a second
And there I was, in that park
Sitting on our special bench
Waiting as usual, for you to come
So that we could talk about our dreams
Dreams, in which you would be a great artist
Dreams, for me, which changed, every day
Was it our age difference that made you mature?
Was it the beauty of your art, that made us friends?
Friends, who were each other’s backbone
Friends, who shared everything under the sun
Today, that bench, stands alone, in that park
At the dot of six, it doesn’t feel our touch
With both of us, in different countries now
Has it been two decades already, in this very life?
A decade of friendship on that bench, two decades apart
Time surely flies, and we race, to keep in pace
(c) Vijaya Gowrisankar
I keep making wishes
Throwing coins into the fountains I pass
But my coins are made of paper
Quick to dissolve
Like my hopes for anything
To come my way
Yet I still do this
My trail can followed by the bits of crumpled paper
That fall from my pockets
I keep thinking
That by some magic of transubstantiation
My coins will become metal when they hit the water
Finally becoming permanent and suitable payment
To any of the fates who might be listening
To a guardian angel who has a soft spot for hard cases like me
To any devil who is short on deals for the month
Just anyone
Who can grant this wish
Dance!
Euphonic bubbles of light!
Move like snakes,
bending with the sound of fire.
Shake!
Oh foaming melody!
Ploy the rakes!
Rapture is my heart’s desire!