Thursday, July 27, 2006

Strangers

The world without strangers
would indeed be a strange place
recognize every single face
shake every hand and yes,
pass infinite smiles.

You’ll never reach where you
set out to go, because of
numerous stops in between.
You’ll never get home because
good byes will never cease.

You’ll never say excuse me,
never make new friends.
You’ll always try placing
names and events and you’ll
hardly be in peace.

This is a tribute to all the strangers around me. Thanks for being one.
Inspired by the word "Strangers" on someone's t-shirt.

A day for Pi

There’s a day dedicated to Pi, you may
ask me why – maybe because it’s
irrational and an infinite decimal.
The celebrations on the day before
the Ides of March may mean eating
a pie, playing a piano, or simply
drinking Pina Colada. What a way
to celebrate the rare constancy
and honor our very own sweet pie.

I love math. Particularly because I'm not good at it. When I was writing a poem on physics, I got to know that there was a day for Pi. Thus "A day for Pi" was born.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

Thoughts

My thoughts have drifted
away, far and remote, like
a dandelion clock blown
by a five year old.
But then I realize that my
thoughts have reached home.
It’s me who is still drifting
away, far and remote.

I don't want to say too much about this poem. Just want to go home.

Monday, July 17, 2006

Nineteen Eleven

When I was in my bold twenties
many, several moonshines back
the world was prepared for war
and I was moonshining in the dark.
On those rugged Appalachians
we were about fourteen men
making firebox to bury the blaze,
getting liquor from the mash, as
smoke and steam rose sky-high.
Those nights were always fun
making whiskey and rum, selling
them for prices so low, in clay
jugs signed with symbols obscure.
A silvery twilight in nineteen eleven
the revenuers arrived quickly, we
deserted our distillery, fires burning,
still working, and coats hanging.
I never took to moonshining again,
but many, several moonshines later
I know the shine always tasted better
than all the gin and rum I’ve ever tried
and I was a shiner with pride.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

War in the name of Lord

Mumbai blasts: for those who call it holy war - Terrorism in any form in not justified. Holy is a very inappropriate adjective for this dastardly act and I'm sure the Lord himself is grieving this day.

While He is busy mending the earth
In which for war there is no dearth
He thinks His name is called out loud
And learns it's "War in the name of Lord"

He is shocked and surprised
And strains to find if He heard it right
Alas! He has made no mistake, for
He'll now not even our prayers take