Father and Son

As he to hold his brush and palette struggled,
I clutched his hand, played a magic wand,
Swayed to draw the horizon crimson red,
Paint clouds, rolls, curls, flags all unfurled,
In shades seldom darkened, oft brightened,
Flew with him in colour imagined riot,
Cleaned up the chart dust ere the start,
With wet, blend paint he sullied my shirt,
With a smile, I washed off the spot.

At midnight cold, I now sweat, inner burnt,
Wake, unlearn, re-learn, unknown moment,
Offer all that I have to my fragile reflect,
Still quietude: await the unkempt, unheard.

The wind whispers what the thought forgot.

“He returns”.

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The Luck Seller

By the tinsel street,
A solitary ticket,
My lottery thought.

Wait for the wind to waft,
Into my arms the lot,
Plenitude thought.

Hope to be released –
From coarse budgets,
To Uni Mae payments.

Recession bites.

I now know why I pray.
Maybe, the Luck Seller is listening.

New Cat Story

Stray.
Astray.
Hungry.
Lost.

Garbage bin.
Hesitant.
Gaze.

Smell.
Imagine.
Food.
Try.

Jump.

Local Cat.
Local Growl.
Alien cat tag.
Aggressive.
Anger.

Plead…
Deferential…
Beg…
Pray…

Local Louder.
Other local cats.
A glaring.

Whimper.
Retreat.
Steps.
Fear.

Me.

Lonely.
Cold.
Starved.

Education.
Achtung!
Closed Borders.

Majority.
Brute.

Mother!
Missing you!
You told me of the many and the one.
Nothing changes whatsoever.
Wars are ever fought over leftovers.
Unshared values.
Shared misery.

Singapore

Veteran’s tall War tales,
Times lined ships at bay,
Strait stretched flats,
Airborne numbers on them,
Spirited Chinese barrels,
Little Indian spice traders,
Mustafa’s strewn spread,
Footsteps at metrostairs,
Food malls of Bedok,
Stench of smoky soup,
Coils of hung snakes,
Cavenagh’s bridge to Asia,
Museums of Chettiar’s money,
Ornamented houses by the quay ,
Glass cased, wheeled sea lifts,
Patrick’s Tabla.

Her anxious eyes.
Lamb among Lions.

Sea

My toddler steps, I hesitated on her shores with stops,
I sat down tired: she sprayed me with cool drops,
Made me laugh with her babble light,
I picked up courage,stood straight,
In heat, barefoot, I ran- seeking cover for my heel,
She sent waters to cool my feet with cold feel.
I made unseemly face and turned my lips curly,
She laughed ,opened her box of bubbles tiny,
Said that I should prattle but never cry,

I learned to draw: my fingers scribbled sands in strains,
Drew horses, camels, the world as I saw: all on her grains
I learned alphabet:
Wrote my name on her granule slate,
Writing was unfettered, fun-typed,
My writ, to clean with water she wiped,
Urged me to redraft .

On her twirls, I built castles dreamt,
I waded the fiord, ate fish food,
Laughed in the catamaran, hid,
She foamed stories to entice, to find,
I heard her whisper despite the wind.

I constructed paper boats,
Floated them with flute notes,
She carried them to dream countries away.
I yearned to count amidst the blue bells,
She dived deep and brought shells,
Murmured that I should count the ebb and swell,
Patterns they weave as they fall and stall.

I send messages of love-
In capped bottle, a treasure trove,
She wafted them to faraway continent,
Taught me to await response, be patient.

At the estuary, she told me that life is fresh and salty,
She absorbed torrent flow from the mountain mighty,
The Amazonian rivers flow into her in a rush to dissipate.

The Sea lies below all.
Humble.
Vast.
A recipient of pollution.