Moon Waves

A full moon, the fullest I have ever seen
A luminous near perfection.
And here a reflection of a life lived in two halfs
Of two worlds that enable one another
Two trains that diverge and separate.
Straddled, connected by a passenger,
Moving through lows and highs
Seeking the earth and the skies, a horizon alternate
The targeted average is the elusive station
The full moon is but a fly by night phenomenon
Reset every month.
The rhythm eternal, the moment ephemeral
The silvery mirage of integration
This finite divide of two worlds
Of parallel mirrors and endless reflections.

Home

 

Today my house is all spruced up

Festive and decked up

House proud am I

It has been a while

Since our last guest

Just for today it can pass any test

It suffers often, of unintended neglect

Tradeoffs, a career’s priorities

Discomfort with intrusive possibilities

An inability to be minimalistic

Admittedly ‘magpie’stic

Tumbling over the functional

A refusal to get clinical.

Resisting a consistent theme

Unbracketed, a gentle overflowing scheme

Corners that spill out longing 

A controlled chaos of warmth, a little indulging 

Of little things, many a distant moment 

Little pieces of every where we went,

Trinkets of time, of the world experienced

Selected, sequinned and sequenced

Stamps of moments spent in other places

Littered across walls and surfaces

All members registered 

Admitted and nestled. 

A little unwieldy, these growing collections

A little accomodating, sometimes abandoned

A mosaic of nostalgic connections

A stage for constant readjustment, a steady theatre of shifting sand

The rambling order of a crowd

A collective whispering when you play your favourite songs aloud

A community of our indulgences,

A miniature world of us

An interpretation, a culmination

Of our past, present and future

A reflection, to our soul a mirror, 

To our eyes a window

A garden to nurture and to grow

A library of books, celebrations and scars

Laden with the dust of our thoughts, of hopes and of stars

A little rested and contained.

A coccoon for our dreams, our world inside a dream

An immersion without restraint.

An umbrella, a base camp, an address for a passport stamp

A world within a world, where bruises heal, hopes are unfurled.

An invitation to the familiar, an acceptance of the unresolved

A place to start from, a place to return

The nuzzling of the known, the balcony to view the unknown

A taste of our cooking and the aromas of the kitchen

A set track for routines, a lounging den

With each milepost and decision

Shifting with us, our caravan

Evolving and anchoring,

Protecting and embracing

A mother ship. A recharge station

A cave it certainly is not.

A house to live in, to breathe out.

A place safe to chew the cud of life.

Moments low and high, happy and sad

Sometimes a refuge, sometimes a launch pad.

This shared world, the storybook of our life.

 

Nail polish Excuses

My chipped nailpolish
More often than not.
Never enough time or effort
To have my hands handsome and stylish
Today an unsightly maroon
They remind me
You will be here soon
A tinge of guilt of never being ready
Perhaps you are away
far too long, to build my routine.
An unfair argument one may say
Even when together, even when I try
My nailpolish scratches even before it gets dry
It didn’t matter then,
Does it matter now, this little imperfection
Never figured out this elegant quest
Which colour looked prettiest
Which shade made them dainty, tried and tested
Why paint a dead tissue bright
Why worry when my nails feel not a slight.
My hands touch, seek and hold.
The hand that holds me
All of me, imperfect and perfect
All that matters is untold.
As for now, present is perfect.