featured in the poetry forum October 14, 2023  :: 0 comments

Teasing little lights,
palette overflowing,
mimicking the stars–
hang from my balcony
on festival nights.

I light lies to cover up
the dreary looking fulcrum
of dreams and myths
that are already peeling off.

No molten wax residues,
no smell of the burnt wicks
to remind us of origins and foreparents and lost languages.

There are no leftovers now
to clean up but our carbon footprints and war debris and bomb-shelled homes and media montage…

editors note:

We light our leftovers for someone (there’s no one) else. – mh clay

2 Haiku: Tea & Time

featured in the poetry forum June 19, 2023  :: 0 comments

for home bound birds
late evening tea


clock ticks
old photos
measuring time

editors note:

Our world’s perceived through our constructs (one lump, or two?). (We welcome Jharna to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay

Zen of Eating a Boiled Egg

featured in the poetry forum March 17, 2021  :: 0 comments

His egg days were thrice a week

and somehow he could divine;
Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

Just at eight, he would crouch near the kitchen,

– a chocolate-puff Chinese spaniel –

meditating on Sartre’s Being and Nothingness.
Sharp at eight, the cook would come out

with the egg, and place it in his bowl.

He proceeded with all dignity, slowly and gently,
sat close to it, legs stretched in a perfect yoga pose.
He drew it to the floor, held it tenderly

in between his paws and kept looking at it

– (we had counted, for two minutes at a stretch) –

savouring the beauty of the little orb.
His eyes, as if they had grown into a tongue, licking it

with all his being. He fondled it, played with it,

– a lover’s besotted craving.
He rested his head on his paws,

his choco brown fleece guarding his boon.
Then came the moment of revelation.
Golden moon emerged from the cloud.
Bingo sat still. A wistful sigh,

– you have to let all good things pass –

and he gulped the yolk
not letting it suffer the ignominy

of an eclipsed moon.
With the utter disdain of a monk
who knows the futility of the world,
he finished chewing on the white nothingness;
wagged his tail and languidly walked back

to his dog’s destined life.

He had left not a morsel behind, except,
as Mother used to say, –a lesson:
the art of savouring your boon!

editors note:

Enlightened canine carries the “Yes!” Savour! – mh clay

3 Haiku: ice-cream, mangrove, squirrel

featured in the poetry forum December 2, 2020  :: 1 comment

ice-cream wrapper…
midnight sorts
love and parting

mangrove tree
tied by roots…
saws snarling

I am stuck…
scampering squirrel
flips travel brochure

editors note:

Little said, much conveyed; sort, saw, unstuck become. – mh clay