Tag Archives: poem

POEM: That Catastrophic Crack [a Ghazal]

Posted on by
Reply

A crack so thin that it could not be seen —
cracked into the windshield of that machine

A flaw that sits awaiting fatal fail —
the crack that pops and groans, yet still unseen

It will happen quickly; with no warning
from that disastrous crack one could not glean

An unforeseen implosion sounds sharply —
the catastrophic snap of cracked windscreen

So much depends on catching that thin gap
cracks become chasms with nothing in-between

So check your scratches and scrub that glass clean
so cracks don’t masquerade as scrape or seam

POEM: A Shadow Sutra

Posted on by
Reply

A cloud is crawling overhead;
it drags a shadow overland,
but shadows never leave a stain
and, soon, the sun can make its stand.

Filipino Limerick

Posted on by
4

There was an exporter from the Philippines
who got his start in karaoke machines,
then shoes and suits
and nurses and fruits
and, lastly, stretch-Jeepney limousines.

Sunrise on the Mountain Haiku

Posted on by
6

I
jagged ridges
fade to obscurity,
and so do I

 

II
one mountaintop
shines in the morning sun,
the rest in shade

 

III
sunrays slant
from clouds to mountains —
morning rips through

Limerick of Peru

Posted on by
Reply

There was a lady from Lima, Peru
who had only seen llamas at the Zoo,
and though the trend was big,
she didn’t eat guinea pig.
Such is life on a Miraflores avenue.

POEM: Will 2021 Be the Year…

Posted on by
6

One has to love the irrational exuberance of people who believe they’ve reached the finish line, the end of the worst possible 366-day period imaginable, as if the world will reset at midnight, as if waking up on January first will be waking up from a year long dream that was usually a nightmare, but was, at its best, a bizarre and incoherent (but emotionally-charged) dream.

I can’t help but wonder if 2021 will be the year in which…

–a ferry sinks in tropical waters, struck by an iceberg

–the virus will mutate on the eve of my vaccination day

–the drone of Brood X will get on last nerves, triggering a tsunami of riots

–a tsunami of water will wash away beachfront property

–there will be a plague of frogs [did we have one of those? I lost track.]

–aliens will land

–AI will make its move

–someone will misplace a thermonuclear warhead

It’s not that I’m a pessimist, I just don’t think Lady Fortuna will acknowledge Auld Lang Syne as stop sign, or as a bump in the road.

POEM: A Sinking Feeling

Posted on by
2

lead boot sinking,

looking up to halo’d light,
a light that gets smaller & dimmer
as one plunges down through cold waters —

deeper & dimmer;
&
dumber & numb-er;

until there’s nothing left to exhale,
and every urge to fatally inhale

POEM: Awaiting Winter [Sonnet]

Posted on by
2

The winter skies are drifting slowly in,
and soon the snow will begin to amass —
the powder settling so scant and thin,
accruing between blades of withered grass.

How many times will skies sputter, thusly
without it piling up or drifting deep?
Just coating soil like the world went dusty —
not snow one shovels but the kind one sweeps.

A child’s and an adult’s prayers differ.
While grown-ups are content to prolong Fall,
kids wish that winter will get here quicker —
but all wish Christmas snow will come to call.

“And when will snow liven our bleak doorstep?”
A question I once asked, but now forget.

A Few Indian City Senryū

Posted on by
3

I
crossing the street
in Bangalore traffic —
never more alive

 

II
even in wee hours,
if I hear only silence,
I know I’m asleep

 

III
random backstreet:
yet, more color than a
carnival midway

POEM: Parallax [a Rubāʿī]

Posted on by
1

The grass is growing through the cracks,
but each man’s view is parallax.
So, while it seems ill-kempt to one,
others are charmed by the same facts.