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?

Tomorrow,  when I am gone,

perhaps you will know…

what my words actually meant.

Or maybe they are to be twisted, mutilated,

turned back against me,

Just because they are not mine.

Tomorrow, when I am gone,

perhaps you will know what my love is

it is not kind, neither gentle

I am no angel, by dying I hope to be one.

Tomorrow , when I am gone,

I will show you my wounds

all my pains, my failures…

you can decide then, whether to love me or not.

By then I might be too far, thats what I fear..

I fear… I fear… I fear..

And therefore I cry.

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?

The ant, unafraid

walks into honey-laden

Palaces of death…

Sometimes the happiest and most beautiful flowers

Are the ones you give yourself

On your quest for the rainbow of Life.

You are the glint in the eye,

You are the hint of a smile,

You are Desire; deeply felt and

hidden in the heart’s nooks.

You are my dream in disguise,

You are the walk in the rain,

You are Beauty; locked and captured

in the depths of my eyes.

You are the birth of a soul,

You are the kite in the breeze,

You are Wisdom; flying free

On a rainbow-hued cloud.

desire, beauty,wisdom-

is my heart ready to welcome you, my little one?

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…