Demeter's heartbreak
Red, blue…patterns, the wind whips up,
Neem shimmers, the doves dive and swoop,
Yellow strewn beneath the bare brown,
Balding with the
winter’s onslaught,
Swirl of colours, beautiful, flowing,
Like the brick walls
with carpets green,
And the autumn flowers here and there,
Sunny and mellow
turns chilly dusk,
Tingling not biting-with a fragrance,
The bottlebrush tails,
frisking around,
Beat the spring with all its colours,
Sights and sounds and
smells,
Like feeling the sun on your face,
Like the wind whipping your skirt,
Like bathing in the silver moonlight,
That little electric shiver,
They’re
returning home, I yearn too…
Math and Myth
How ironic it is,
The way it all
comes crashing down,
So illusionary, so fleeting,
One moment its here the other
its gone.
A sea change from that carefree atmosphere,
That once prevailed but
has now vanished,
Sudden panic, the time mercurial,
With the tinkering of glass
beads, they fell,
All to the mighty onslaught,
Unable to handle it-lost without
a fight,
But the one who makes the Herculean effort,
Lest time be his Achilles heel,
The ode to the Ides, may it usher luck,
And only strength may I feel,
The
virtues required for the “Labour”
Perseverance, discipline, courage,
Let all
these and more from Athena pour.
Alliterate with Abandon
Pass me a piece of
paper please,
One and one make two of these,
You mortify me, Mr. Mortimer Busby,
As you weave a wonderful web of words,
Don’t be benign and
befriend the birds.
Gibberish, Gobberlish, Gifferlish goo,
Witch said “where”?
and what said “who”?
I now sing this song in style,
Soon I would have meandered
a mile,
And taxing toll at the turnstile?!!
Hush now hear the hurried hustle,
Tow the train and turn to tussle,
She said she would skip the scuffle,
Jog your
memory and jibe at Jeeves
A bitter taste this in my mouth leaves!!!
Sunday
Yellow
Oh, how I long for those Sunday morns,
Shafts of gold lighting the blue,
Setting the mood aglow,
Familiar strains of easy guitars,
Like crystal clear
water,
Cool springs, fresh piano,
Haunting, joyous,” honey lips”.
So daunting a
task-the description….
Steaming mugs of coffee,
The gurgling laughter trickles
through,
“My story seldom told”-he said.
The small figures down below,
Condescension I experience,
As I watch them scurry to and fro
“No time to stand
and stare”-he said.
Don’t let it all in vain go.
On all fours arrives the
toddler,
Dribbles on the mat,
The fragrance of vanilla and baby soap,
Soft and
gurgly and cuddly at that!
Little plump fingers grab and pat,
As the contended
grin spreads,
Parting my gray clouds,
The sun smiles through.
Brick Sunset
Hear the little birds tweet,
Atop the red brick
work,
What could be as sweet?
As to sense the joy of that lark!
The misty ones
sweep by,
As the winds upon them sigh,
The yellow and green freshes
Are crowded
with singing threshes,
The black specks bob up and down,
Their synchronized
spells sound,
One dives with the sparrow tail,
Streaks across the blue wail.
The
bush tails prance to and fro,
Upon the gray boughs,
Just watch them come and go,
Is all I do desire.
Soon the sand dunes fade away,
The happy pair goes
twittering,
As the high tops sway,
Back to the home that’s beckoning.
Its magic
as I look up,
The whites don a pinkish hue,
And the pale turns brighter blue
Spangled with orange sashes.
Oh how I wish you were here to see
What I now look
upon,
The beauty of the calm eve
And the wonders of the dawn.
Like the tides
that wash the shore,
The clouds flow on the blue
However much I do behold,
I
only crave for more…
Paradise Regained
Black fans out
creamy yellow blossoms,
Strewn on the wet mud, the little yellow flakes,
Sets
the scene aglow as you look up at the loaded boughs,
The sound of the winged
musicians almost deafening.
A medley of notes and tunes floats on the wind,
Carrying the exotic fragrance of the earth and faintly of the blossoms.
Behind
the fence from the low hanging branches,
Out swoop the tiny sparrows and humming
birds,
Amid the cackle and cry the melodious one coos out,
The threshes sing
shrill and the mainas song…
Follows the rising tune.
Look the pair fly and sit
atop, do that little jig of joy,
Off they go again, bobbing up and down,
As if
riding on the waves of Neptune….
Medha Madhavan
1 Chemistry