Wednesday, December 10, 2014

"The rose without its thorn" [sonnet]

The rose without its thorn is not a rose
the heart without its ache is not a heart
the stream's no more a stream unless it flows
the plum's hardly a plum except it's tart

that mirror is a mirror which displays
whatever face or form you place before it
the mirror of the heart likewise arrays
a floral vision when you fetch a floret

the path of love seemed easy   quoth Hafez
at first    until the obstacles kicked in
who hasn't felt the truth in what he says?
who doesn't know the tumult of the spin?

when heart goes reeling in its twirl of trouble
the dream of easy love pops like a bubble


"Pomp and Circumstance" [sonnet]

Another day appears in which to love you
another day emerges from the deep
the sky again (that canopy above you)
is ready when you waken from your sleep

the earth beneath is ready for your footfall
the atmosphere awaits to your every word
the field is ready either for your football
or (if you're feathersome) your song O bird!

O bird! O fish! O deer within the thicket!
O heart within the pulchritude of night!
O theatre! we've arrived & here's the ticket!
a thousand times we strive to get it right!

another day (the curtain's now ascending)
I love you! at another poem's ending

"Dumb luck" [a sonnet]

If the purpose of my existence is to love you
is it dumb luck that you've appeared before my eyes?
with rich earth beneath your feet & blue sky above you
do you need dramatics of sunset & sunrise?

there are suns & moons in my heart & many a star
there's a universe that I haven't yet quite explored
I can wend the roads of the world since I've got a car
but what vehicle's apt to plumb the ways of the Lord?

if the heart is the key for walking the path of truth
while yet God's unknown & unknowable! tell me this
if one earnestly seeks to quaff the fountain of youth
is it nonetheless pathetic to think of your kiss?

says an ignorant oaf before the gate of the queen
"though my head be dappled in dust my heart is serene"

Monday, December 8, 2014

The Elements of Attar [sonnet]

If I were to write a poem to celebrate
what delight befills my heart in your gentle gaze
which has thankfully fallen on me in my life late
what materials ought I fetch to construct that praise?

should I travel first to Himalayan heights & pluck
rustic blossoms that shine beyond pedestrian sight?
should I visit next Bhopal lakes where from soft muck
massive lotus-flowers emerge in dawn's gold light?

if I mix the essence of lotus with scent of blooms
from the heights would this suffice? or should I add
subtle tinctures gleaned at a thousand Sufi tombs?
must I hasten to Mehera's garden at Meherazad

for stray petals of roses she nurtured in God's joy?
should I mix in the morning-glories I saw as a boy?


Sunday, November 9, 2014

"The art of the quip" [boomerang poem]

Is the art of the quip now an infobahn talent?  I guess
yet its long antecedents trace back  to an ancient salon
picture please Oscar Wilde as Twitterer!  would he express
those incisive bon-mots & touch├ęs  from sundown until dawn?
granting much one espies on the internet  merits a yawn
there's a smidgeon inspiring deep thought (not so fleetingly)  yes? 

on the chessboard of fate   am I cast as a quip-equipped pawn
with the art of the quip now an infobahn talent?  I guess