I should have…

couple in love
(Photo credit: fourme)

I needed to love you more.
Spend longer hours caressing your curls,
Driven around in cosier comfort of colder climes,
Lost and discovered each in the shrubs of the tea estates,
Shopped in exclusive malls for rare perfumes,
Sat by the beaches, listening to the waves,
Drenched our unread sorrows in coffee houses,
Read Lawrence and Hardy in sips and turns,
Philosophized in admiration of silence,
Swayed on the hammock defying the sun,
Played the guitar , notes that touched deep,
Stepped in reams of dreams, in tango taps,
I hesitated the, I regret now,
This is but a retrospect.

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The Climb up in Life

Barefoot climb.
Steep plane vertical.
Holding onto slippery rails.
Hills Blue and Black.
Dark, deep forests swaying wild.
Hot rocks smouldering.
Stones simmering in noon heat.
Lone companion on a long trudge .
Looking for the crest.
Elusive with every step.
Yet higher the ascend.
Hear the irregularity of breath.
The blaze of a fire.
Then the Sight of the Invisible.

The Ghost Chat

Ghost below the Sunset?
Ghost below the Sunset? (Photo credit: Scott M Duncan)

Ashen, pale, macabre, worried,
He helped me find some ground,
Several lost miles we traversed,
Me looking to him as a guide,
Through the clouds, he conversed,
Each morning, as I drove west,
He storied me of dreams unkempt,
Of white fields we furrowed, sweated,
Dust strewn sapling irrigated,
Grappling hazy emotions unchained,
Remorseless, winged, ghoulish, morbid,
Crows that refuse rice yoghurt rolled.
You should have lived through the night,
We indeed could have at dinner laughed.

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Big Beautiful Face Statue in Tenerife
Big Beautiful Face Statue in Tenerife (Photo credit: epSos.de)

They come back to me in time,
I see them repeating as before,
Visages which seem the same,
They remind- stirrings once more,
From among crowd, they haunt,
The stares- the mind they challenge,
Memories, they nudge and taunt,
Rise from the ashes of passage,
Anger at frothing amnesia so selective,
From the dustbin, burnt leaves reformatted,
Books of the past, in reclaims so restive,
Knocking at strained re-collective doors in regret ,
Countenances so lucid that they fade,
Into oblivion yet more jaded.

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A Security Guard’s Story

I am a security guard at the Debit and Credit Bank.
I earn a decent , minimal salary in these times of recession.
My monthly pay packet is fair enough to take home after tax deductions.
I pay taxes so that the bank where I work can be sustained through Government funding.
I am told that as a taxpayer I own quite a substantial number of shares in this DC Bank.
So I sit through the night and guard the bank which I own as a taxpayer. I guard so that external brigands do not plunder.
Everyday, I watch in awe as these blue suited, dignified looking, learned but taciturn bankers move out in hordes in the evenings.
I stay behind television screens and read newspapers ( I read as I am lonely in the darker hours of night as I struggle to keep awake)… read that my bank is paying its investment bankers $ 250 million as bonuses…It is about performance related pay… (PRP)
It is paying $ 400 million as fines for rigging the ‘Libor’…
It is creating a reserve of $ 1 billion to protect the bank from mis-sellings in insurance and swaps… ( I do not understand these words…so these might be very technical terms to understand and implement… that is why these bonuses are paid) ; banks are ambiguous; banks are complex.. they mis- sell; I mis-read!.