Isometric projection

I build pictures
Life does, rather
Day after day after day

Things emerge
As old ones purge
Gradually, they accumulate

People come
In packs and lumps
And life moves on somehow

Sporadic thirsts
For new suburbs
Slowly begins to crowd

This mind that thinks
Questions me
Of turns and bends and twists

And little though
My share has been
I still can’t answer like a blitz

And as we grow
A little more
Things begin to make more sense

With plan, section and
Elevation at hand
The master does commence

The stratum drawn
The pencil moves
With the moves of this run

And comes to light
What if I might
Call, life’s isometric projection

Whispering trees

Post lunch solitary walks in wintry afternoons, the canopied roads bathing in sporadic waves of sunshine and the fluttering green leaves glistening in golden ushers with a perfectly untainted blue sky as a backdrop, life is as perfect as can get. And as I walk through the showers of sauntering yellow dry leaves kissing gravity every time the soft winds wake up the hibernating stalks, a thousand thoughts flirt with my mind. Like the shadows constantly changing form beneath the feet. And as much as the onlookers might find me paranoid, I think I’ve never been as self sufficient. Though there is still a lot left to be desired and some seemingly ridiculous wishes which inspite of their devious ways and a knack to leave the feeble wish land in splinters, are most conveniently accommodated. But when such voids begin to take over, I realize that earth in her subtle ways asks me to find solace in her calm tranquil presence. Its taken a while for the conundrums of life to begin getting sorted out. It’s taken a few events which I would’ve called unfair and blamed myself for not gauging well. Like willowy twists in directions far from envisaged. And now I find a perennial cloud of reassurance above me and I know I am never alone. Not in my grief, not in the exuberance, not in the several silent moments or the ones filled with mayhems.

Extremes

Free Verse
Rehearse
Walk free
Dwell deep
Make noise
Keep your poise
Greetings crowd
Over and out

Olly Maple

Olly Maple inspired my rhymes
A country lad in bizarre times
Rambled cause he loved his voice
Olly Maple, my favourite boy

Cared little for fiendish plots
Lost in his brazen thoughts
Phantoms of a world gone by
Observed at stretch, the nothingness of skies

And in the woods, his hidden shack
A carnival of tricks on rustic racks
And twigs and strings and jingles of joy
Olly Maple, you were my favourite boy

On the mountain's sunny side

The little fountain blue and wide
On the mountain's sunny side
With the river on its toes
And pixie-dust upon its bows

Where sprightly little fishes flock past
Over pebbles and water grass
To their school in the magic pit
Where they swim with all their grit

I will one day be with them
As the god of merry may-hem
Elect the young to make all rules
And keep the bullies out of school

And when the sun gets overhead
They can laugh and play instead
In the fountain blue and wide
On the mountain's sunny side