Sunday, May 25, 2008


Villagers carry grains and straw,
Golden oriole among green leaves,
A stir in water of the pond -
In sky's colour for a moment
Marigold's many petal layers.

All mine.

Deceived by dividing scratches
Raw red from many caustic blades
crisscrossing over th' Absolute.

Segragated ones now belong
To me for I belong to them.

( This poem is from my book One Hundred Poems)