Frenetic winds of chaos
Blowing in our face
An ever-growing frenzy
Throwing us in a daze
Stunned, a few wonder
At this tempest of hate;
Where did we learn to
Speak in tongues false
Write in crooked ways
When did we go silent
And chose to turn away?
Is there hope still
For truth and trust,
To recover our lexicon,
Or all is lost in this storm?
I am wandering, wondering
How to balance life
To surrender or strive
To capture the moment
Or let the memories fly by!
In the space between thoughts
Where I often feel lost
I am seeking answers
To saunter, gallop, or stop?
Time after time
I return to the glade
Of joyous thoughtscape
Silver dandelion
Golden sunrays
Aroma of a picnic lunch
Love notes in the basket
In windswept letters
On fragile paper
Gossamer stories
Of loving, leaving, longing
Blowing in the breeze
With yellow petals
Wrinkled memories
Rescue me from
The web of cerebration
Crushing my innards
Clutching my heart
Maddening my soul
With another bout
Of stifling anxiety!
Thoughts growing
Like tendrils within me
Squeezing, squishing
Body, spirit, inside out
Squirming in my brain
Twisted imagination
Triggering a volcano
Of anguish fear, guilt
The demons they win;
Primeval joy, lost in the din!
Time for strawberry mojitos
Mulberry plucked from trees
Palash flowers and tomatoes
Ablaze with red so deep
Lavender teas, minty greens
Brown delight of cold coffees
Sweet fruits of labor, now
Tangy orange preserves
The sun seeping in nectar
To return from slumber
With full force of summer
Until then let me swing
In the silver hammock
Wherever the wind sways
An open book, still unread
As sparrows make acquaintance
Abuzz on the wings of a bee
Sweet fragrance of jasmine
Intoxicated with the power
Of just being alive, blooming
Until the breeze knocks it off
From its cradle and it lies
In the dust whispering goodbyes
To the flurry seeds in the air
From wildflowers in sidewalks
Destined to carry fairytales
From this corner to the next!
*Palash is a sacred tree in the South Asian subcontinent. It has bright red flowers in early spring and hardly any leaves
Blue Pen Strokes 