Three poems are up in the July-August issue of Muse India which deals with the theme of Monsoon- 'Varsha Ritu'. You can see them here. (let me mention here that I am vastly proud of my newly acquired skills in putting hyperlinks and on top of the world)
I am also putting the poems below :-)
SUMMER RAIN
The amaltas in the distance glows yellow
The newly washed world is sparkling and clean
The rain has clothed it with a rainbow hued sheen
Splashing and tweeting in puddles flock sparrows.
Parakeets stick their heads from tree hollows
The gulmohur leaves laugh verdant green
Forming a feathery, whispery screen
The orange melons in the fields dream mellow.
Here and there you can spy ripe mangoes
I wish a blue throated peacock would preen
That would be a splendid sight to have seen
Eagerly pecking at the fruits crowd crows.
With the stormy winds I want to dance
Filling each pore with a touch of romance.
LANDOUR DAYS
It was a gift
To lose myself in Landour greens
In the june heat
A gift of blue purple rain clouds
Raintrees rain birds in the mountains
And rivers making love to the sky
It was a gift of song and laughter
Ruskined epiphanies
Bonding unsullied Garhwal beauty
It was a mother’s gift
To her daughter at sixteen.
Years later I was to know
Of your Landour trips
And to treasure the fact
Landour desires oozing out of me.
RAIN
Music of the aeolian harp
melody of flute and lyre
It is the sound of heavens laughing
the thunder is the tabla beating
destroying habit
enforced freedom from routine
I tune in with the rhythms of this dance
to be set free.
I am also putting the poems below :-)
SUMMER RAIN
The amaltas in the distance glows yellow
The newly washed world is sparkling and clean
The rain has clothed it with a rainbow hued sheen
Splashing and tweeting in puddles flock sparrows.
Parakeets stick their heads from tree hollows
The gulmohur leaves laugh verdant green
Forming a feathery, whispery screen
The orange melons in the fields dream mellow.
Here and there you can spy ripe mangoes
I wish a blue throated peacock would preen
That would be a splendid sight to have seen
Eagerly pecking at the fruits crowd crows.
With the stormy winds I want to dance
Filling each pore with a touch of romance.
LANDOUR DAYS
It was a gift
To lose myself in Landour greens
In the june heat
A gift of blue purple rain clouds
Raintrees rain birds in the mountains
And rivers making love to the sky
It was a gift of song and laughter
Ruskined epiphanies
Bonding unsullied Garhwal beauty
It was a mother’s gift
To her daughter at sixteen.
Years later I was to know
Of your Landour trips
And to treasure the fact
Landour desires oozing out of me.
RAIN
Music of the aeolian harp
melody of flute and lyre
It is the sound of heavens laughing
the thunder is the tabla beating
destroying habit
enforced freedom from routine
I tune in with the rhythms of this dance
to be set free.
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