Pic of the day

Pic of the day
Somehow, she's always the one up here.

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Starless night

A bird of white
did alight
under a starless night
in search of food.
None, so rude,
did disturb this sight.
For it was one
among a run
of many on that night
when stars did hide;
did dark collide
with peace and joy's delight.

Far from view,
Horizon knew
the kiss of Sky and Sea.
And well in sight -
one left, one right -
the footprints came to be
of wanderers;
of wonderers,
who came to hear and see
the sight so rare;
the mark so fair:
the footprints of the sea.

The tide then rose
to kiss the toes
of Sky who deigned to glance
at all of those,
that night, who chose
to go and take a chance.
Thoughts did flow
and words did glow
in fair poetic dance.
The endless sea
gave energy
to City's mad romance.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013


There was a time I walked on water's face;
I since have given up omnipotence.
I've watched the sky and sea in dear embrace
and watched as Atlas placed: the timeless fence.

Hearts still draw like lonely ghosts out there:
the place where time extends beyond the morn.
They come to meet and in that meeting, share
a moment, true and pure. The smiles adorn
a glow that brings the sunshine out in rain:
as if to sanction love with warmth and light.
A moment stolen from their daily strain;
a moment when their fancies can take flight.
'tis in that special time that I can see
the happiness that, can, the human heart.
And not all pain and sorrow needs to be -
these moments too, of life, become a part.

Like once before, emerging from a box
perhaps old Hope will Atlas from his place;
perhaps I'll find a box that's blue and rocks;
perhaps one day I'll walk on water's face.

Monday, June 24, 2013

Unto another field

With a carpet sky and raindrop darkness looming over ground,
put a bit of grass in the clouds and kick a ball around.
If sunshine beams are veiled and watered to a withering ghost,
place two bolts of lightning, square, and make a goal post.
When hazy days enhance the ways in which to be lazy,
go run wildly through the skies; kick up a storm, crazy.

 - Inspired by a line from "Postcards from Bardoli", written by Ramu Ramanathan

Monday, June 17, 2013

A word on a bird

There was a little bird who coo'd a little coo.
She looked at  a thing and said, I can do this too.
Her motives were pure,
her footing was sure.
And so, she began, without much a do.

Her passion and her love became her drive;
her choice was never settle, always strive.
With talent and with flair,
over bump and scare
her path became the form that she did contrive.

A tin-man and a lion; a hatter and a hare:
Friends came her way for whom she came to care.
The yellow brick road,
together, they strode,
forming an ensemble rather rare.

The little bird grew to be quite unique.
Along with her mind, grew her mystique.
And so the ensemble
did trudge and rumble,
all the while, the bird guiding their clique.

Time marches on with a sure and steady pace.
The bird found herself in many a race.
And she won them all;
stood proud and tall;
vanquishing every challenge she would face.

This isn't quite where the story ends
for the road is long as it bumps and bends.
Consider it good luck
if in your life amuck
you get to meet this bird and perhaps become friends.

Saturday, June 15, 2013

In the darkest night...

Look at the sky.
Though it may cry,
through the cloud,
screaming loud,
there is a star,
with all her power,
that's burning bright.
Though hidden from sight
the darkest night
becomes light
and easier to bear
just knowing that it's there.


Would you quote Shakespeare when in a fight?
Would you use Beckett's words to prove you're right?
Is what you say important in a fit of seething rage?
Can Byron's colours paint on your personal angry page?

Are words from Wordsworth worthy of your ego?
'sit better to throw Wilde than to just wildly throw?
Words, too, in fact can take a form quite terse.
How bloody would war be if we use Lennon's verse?

Perhaps what may work is to sometimes use silence -
The shrug of Chaplin's shoulders always held some poignance -
For the power of a word and just what it can do
perhaps weighed heavy on good ol' Moses too.

Friday, April 19, 2013

Dreams for dinner

Across the bounding ocean and the open sea
are served dreams for dinner and a side of hope, for free.
Also, an appetizer of trust and a soup of welcome
with a salad garnished with a smile to not seem too solemn.
"Come, ye huddled masses!", cries the Maitre D'
as she offers dreams for dinner and a side of hope, for free.

'tis the land that opens arms to folks of various kind
with the promise of greens of law and drinks of peace of mind.
They come from far and wide like ants to a sugar mound,
hearing stories of those before them - how sweet they made it sound.
The meat of money and the gravy mix of justice and liberty
are in the plate of dreams for dinner and a side of hope, for free.

They drink the wine of wealth that makes a millionaire
or eat the bread of a taxi cab with equal lack of care.
They bring a piece of herb or spice and blend it in the sauce
to remind them of a piece of home and make lemonade from loss.
They've come for a reason: make life all it can be -
They love their dreams for dinner and a side of hope, for free.

No meal can be called complete without a touch of sweet.
A day-long life, too, must end with a little happy treat.
A pudding made of cream and eggs and the soft flour of choice,
with a cherry added on the top, of the promise of a voice,
soothes them to a sleep, secure, in the inn of democracy,
after eating dreams for dinner and a side of hope, for free.