Sunday, June 27, 2021
WORDS
Friday, June 18, 2021
THE WHITE TABLE
Memories perch side by side with coloured streaks on my white dining table,
memories of conversations chewed and sipped on angled white chairs.
Teasing reminder of friendly dinners and lunches;
reflections of countless family meals,
reminiscent of meals sometimes nibbled alone over fiction and non-fiction
each memory clings to the lacy grey table cloth,
forming a concealed tower of souvenirs.
Streaks of my daughter's curved enthusiasm for artwork,
canvases spread on the table capturing diverse moods,
etchings of a deceased grandpa captured fondly;
or sketch of a friend's turmoil spilled by angry strokes.
Scars of peeping chipped wood a testimony to
gaping sentiment of my progeny.
The pen marks on white rexine chairs cruise blue to black,
patterns of different students each year drawing
Economics diagrams or calculating profit margins.
The white table creates an invisible album,
Each time I flip a page, a bygone flavour of emotions emanate.
Monday, June 14, 2021
WHY
Why we become what we become?
Is it our parents who cast the mold,
or our school outlining our quarter silhouette?
Is it friends who configure our thoughts,
or teachers who sculpture our impressions?
Is it cousins with whom we kick our heels in holidays,
or co-workers we gossip at the cafeteria?
Is it the books we read and the places we travel,
or our children who teach us a thing or two?
Is it thousands of unknown faces and their gestures,
or the endearing companionship of nature?
Sometimes, I wonder what impressions keep slipping
through five senses and colour our intellect.
Whatever I am, or who I have become
I owe it to each of you
for assembling me.
On some days I am grumpy and upset;
on other days, I am happy and cheerful.
But what I manifest each day;
is a slice of each of your perceptions,
as I am nothing but a reflection of all of you.
Thursday, June 10, 2021
COLOURS
The bright red flames tirelessly burning
seeking no respite.
Melting chimneys, spewing grey colour,
mangled with loss and pain.
The twin colours of black and white fungus,
disrobing an eye somewhere and a limb elsewhere
still racing an incessant marathon.
Reluctant eyes stare at sandalwood tinged horizontal sights
filling public spaces,
Vertical lines; clustered in frustrated indoor stretches
on unrested black and white tiles.
Tender eyes eagerly awaiting
to gaze at blue and white uniforms.
Rainbow visible at best in moist cupboards,
Sleek cars solitarily cruise patients in blue-green scrubs
returning with one or two less.
A nation with vibrant hues and festivals
replaced by numbers dying and numbers positive.
The red virus drenching us all in a kaleidoscope
of agony, isolation, anguish and despair.