the core of permanence

how long can
a butterfly rest
how long can it
flutter by - finding
the core of permanence

Mahmoud Darwish - I come from there

I come from there and I have memories

Born as mortals are, I have a mother

And a house with many windows,

I have brothers, friends,

And a prison cell with a cold window.

Mine is the wave, snatched by sea-gulls,

I have my own view,

And an extra blade of grass.

Mine is the moon at the far edge of the words,

And the bounty of birds,

And the immortal olive tree.

I walked this land before the swords

Turned its living body into a laden table.

I come from there. I render the sky unto her mother

When the sky weeps for her mother.

And I weep to make myself known

To a returning cloud.

I learnt all the words worthy of the court of blood

So that I could break the rule.

I learnt all the words and broke them up

To make a single word: Homeland..... 

~ Mahmoud Darwish

Mahmoud Darwish (Arabic: محمود درويش‎) (13 March 1941 – 9 August 2008) was a Palestinian poet and author who won numerous awards for his literary output and was regarded as the Palestinian national poet. In his work, Palestine became a metaphor for the loss of Eden, birth and resurrection, and the anguish of dispossession and exile. He has been described as incarnating and reflecting "the tradition of the political poet in Islam, the man of action whose action is poetry". ~ his Facebook page says.

winter solitude

winter solitude

all day

her blue dreamy eyes

follow the birds

winging the sky

* a verse from a story in process ~

dry leaves

my heart bids me

to be quiet, but,  the mind

says I am required to speak~     

dry leaves clatter

in the wind

Well, the thought....the short verse came to me on seeing that tree..It seems the bark of the tree too changes colour and sheds along with the leaves....Green in summer, turns red through autumn/before winter...sheds the red bark and turns white in winter months and then again fresh green bark and foliage in spring...into summer and so on. It is the story of the tree, but definitely carries the human story as much...

Winter Air

"It is the life of the crystal, the architect of the flake,

the fire of the frost, the soul of the sunbeam. 

This crisp winter air is full of it. ~

John Burroughs" - "Winter Sunshine"

Thoreau -I

Finding yourself yoked to Matter and to Time. Not a mosquito left. Not an insect to hum. Crickets gone into winter quarters. Friends long since gone there, and you left to walk on frozen ground, with your hands in your pockets. Ah, but is not this a time for deep inward fires? - Henry David Thoreau

end of a long day

end of a long day 
far afield 
a burst of sparkling firecrackers!


a week past Diwali celebrations still on. 

predawn quiet

the quiet of predawn 

craving for a day 

with nothing in it

first line could be "predawn quiet" as well...but guess i prefer the way it naturally flowed, than to "work" for cohesion and tightness - well, sometimes.

pallid winter sky

pallid the winter sky~ 

contemplating a splash, 

tomato red

high tide

"Haiku is not a shriek, a howl, a sigh, or a yawn; rather, it is the deep breath of life." ~ Taneda Santōka


high tide 
the thought
of a thought