I am not capable of love, for I am after something more fleeting: the magic of a moment…My life is devoted to collecting these little seashells of joy, how can I hope to know the majestic beauty of the ocean called love?
As each teaching ( or learning ) day goes by, I realise that the best gift that you can receive from your set of learners, is a smile. A single smile says all : I am happy, I am learning, I am alive. That is also the only gift I can give back. It does not matter if he cannot conjugate a verb, it is futile to argue over what kind of a learner she is. He might not write a coherent essay in a lifetime, she might always mess up the sounds. All that fades back into stillness over a single thought : He/She IS.
Alive, Happy, Learning.
Isn’t that enough?
Sometimes the happiest and most beautiful flowers
Are the ones you give yourself
On your quest for the rainbow of Life.
Brimming with the waters of life,
the cloud rained over the little flower-
And the flower wrinkled.
Nourished by the green earth
the flower reached out for the cloud-
And the cloud disappeared.
Love, sometimes, is cruel.
like a shy bride the
poem hides in the darkness-
awed by its own light.
if by the rain she
blooms and sheds dewdrop tears
whom does the bud love?
the river’s passion
makes the ocean a mad lover-
Salty crescendos.
on the river bank
I sought out your footprints, while
uncertainty sought me.
the sky answers not
earth’s plea for rain-unfulfilled,
the plea breaks earth’s will.
* these are not haiku, some of them don’t adhere to the syllable count.
I have no friend, I have no family
the world fails to amaze me;
Your talk is sweet, your words charming;
yet…
Can you not let me be?
I am not a poet, I do not see beauty
I am mundane and in that I thrive,
All I want is a little sunshine and drops
of rain….
Can you not let me be?
I have no need for words, I strew them about
carelessly, like my ideas, the vagabonds;
I know no rhyme, nor reason
Please
Can you not let me be?
My world is alive, it is not imagined
I exist because all nature is
for the simple reason- I am not
dead.
Can you not let me be?
I know no god nor prince
I know no magic, I have no dream
I’ve learned to give myself
hugs
Just to let me be…
This evening, at the temple fair,
I wanted you to notice, my love,
the beads of sweat trickling
down my stomach and the kohl-smeared
blackness of my eyes, caught unawares
As I bargained for a trinket.
I wondered if your arms smelled
like the land you tilled, fragrant in its fullness,
your smile made my heart beat faster, enraptured.
My feet, covered with dust, scurried along-
Wanting to touch yours, toe to toe.
My skin, brown like the face of the earth,
throbbed like the barren one, dearest,
waiting for the rain; my bosom heaving
to the pulse of the breeze; so now I ask
shamelessly onto your face, my love…
Will you be my rain?
Would your love engulf my body even as your eyes do my soul?
Answer me, Don’t my lips speak desire?
Sullied by the ocean,
The oyster redeems its glory
In the white of the pearl;
The pearl, pure and transparent,
innocently adorns grimy necks,
Unable to name the oyster its own
When the artist dropped his palette,
I gathered his mixed-up colours ..
No form nor meaning,
the colours drench my mind
In joyful sorrow…
The raindrop finds a home in earth’s womb
and grows and blossoms..
I am learning from her-I await the raindrop,
hasn’t it always been mine?
I am not subject to the sculptor’s tool- chiselled and carved;
I am the ridge in the river’s soul, living and eternal.
When the moon rises today, keep a song for me , on the clouds…
Perhaps my soul would reach it, across the breeze of day.
 | Agnibarathi on |
 | Summer Rain on On Teaching |
 | Shankar on On Teaching |
| Summer Rain on Me.. |
 | Lavanya on Me.. |
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