Clutter

Poetry is art. An art I've found to be too deep for me. But tonight, at 0044 hours on a Wednesday morning, some happenings have prompted me to resort to it. So, forgive me if it lacks structure and order and all other tosh one must keep in mind while conceiving a poem. Read.

The lens case perched atop unwashed denims,

flaunts its solution from within

the R, white and opaque while L is absconding

the eyes do a pan, 

a battered cap steals fancy

A six year association, 

revived in a jiffy!

Although the washing powder next to it,

has wiped clean most memories,

the recent ones remain 

above the transcript

 of the last five transactions.

A journey through my table

is an ordeal barely complete,

but revival and recall

promise retreat!

Badly taped currency,

 tangled ear-phones

Kotler, Kelly, Koshy and Jha's Marketing

Pune Times, Wednesday, October 6, 2010

An unkept coat

And a tired mind

I fall into my chair

A tape rewinds as the eyes close 

I feel her call, 

She nibbles on my toes

She's sick, 

Allergic, 

her hair's lost,

she's lost her weight

diagnosed with disease

Failing everyday ...

And they snap open!

the case, the cap, the coat and Kotler

we're back again 

at our present haven

But the view is new 

and all but different

A box, A BOX!

A glowing red +

comes first to my aid

obviously signalling hope!

I forget the disease,

I relive the tiny nibble

I sigh a little,

and hazard a midnight giggle

For it's merely

a journey through my table,

an ordeal barely complete,

but revival and recall

promises retreat!

To Timon,

my beautiful child!