KANYAKUMARI, Monday,
Oyster shells, pen caps; memories, edible crabs,
Salt, silt and sand....
The sea brings these to the shore from time to time
But I look
At the sails of the vanishing ship
And I think of the time that has long since passed
Each ripple in the ocean now,
A moment gone by...
I think
There must be so many unfinished love stories in the world
Like mine
Lying at the bottom of the sea
As a pirate's treasure chest, long lost
Wanting to be found....
I see
Sea as a metaphor
Surrounding us with undrinkable pain
Bringing disasters occasionally
Leaving everyone an
And then storming through our eyes....
Will the breath that blew her paper boat across the sea-
One day send her sailing back to me?
Because there's something I should have said
But I didn't
And in the time we had,
My love for you
Somehow got
Lost in translation....
The ocean stretches out, yawns and is awake
Going ashore
Seven guys
One of them writes
On Foolscap
Six girls aboard
One of them beautiful
More than the Landscape....
I lie here
You remain there
I look forward to
Sleeping with you
In dreams
And in here
Somewhere
In God’s own country
CHERTHALA, Sunday,
The September sky paints a thousand colors
It looks like the sea
And the sea looks like the sky
It is trippy and beautiful
Like Sgt Pepper’s
I remember how she'd looked at me with her eyes
That I could hear them speak,
Along with the raindrops,
Like they had a life of their own
They were the strangest eyes,
A little blue, a little green-
Shining beneath the sunset in her hair
She is too much
PERIYAR, Monday
Outside my window, a little while back I could see the elephants
The mothers teaching the young ones how to swim
I got some great pictures today
We are staying in a tree-house
Together
Salt lips touching
Each other
Your gown hung from the ceiling fan
Like a song strung on fugitive rhymes
It's wonderful
That lust gnaws have no language, race or religion
And I can skip the foreplay conversation
Because anyway my words, to her,
Like the color of my eyes
And the midsummer night's skies
Are black, warm and unfathomable
But what the hell
She's great in bed
You know how some girls have all the stuff
The Portmanteau complexion
And the 'come hither' looks
Her look says
“Ok, figure me out...
What am I going to say?”
And I say, “Girl-
Keep your hands off my groin”
KUMARAKOM, Sunday,
Words, words, everywhere,
Not a drop to drink
She doesn't speak English
And she doesn't understand a word I say
So much for my poetry
And hers:
“R szgv blf
Uli rg'h blf R'n uzoormt rm olev drgs
Yfg R xzm'g gvoo blf
Zmw blf droo mvevi pmld”
Like a secret code
So we pretend to be deaf and mute all the time
We talk like mime artists
Silence can be so therapeutic
We can comfortably share
Our silences
That's usually when one feels that they've met someone special
But the hard and fast of it
Is that I'm
In love
And I can't handle it....
ERNAKULAM, Saturday,
It was a beautiful sight at twilight
Vikram and Polly and I,
We were sitting in the porch of the boathouse
Sipping red wine from the light of little oil lamps
Unless of course it was a full moon
I don't remember exactly
For this is where she came in the poem....
Rose her color is
And white
Brown hair
Aquamarine eyes
Six feet one inch tall
Looks Lebanese
But maybe not
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