The Spring-Summer Collection
Spring is summer
taking baby steps.
- Alaka
Red-whiskered bulbul
amidst inky-blue jamuns.
Contrast is beauty.
- me
Jet black raven eyeing
a still, snow-white cat.
Contrast is startling.
- Max
A crow's artless nest
in a summer-tattered tree.
Home is still sweet home.
- me
Thorny acacia
repels raptor, kind to
the weaver bird.
- Alaka
Pied myna in flight -
black, white and a dash of red.
Spring's feathers delight.
- me
The corner street
mongrel prowls
innocently through
the summer night.
Death hangs loose
on its crinkled skin.
- Nuzhat
The stronger the sun
the deeper the shadows.
What irony!
- Alaka
The shadows and the
sun play games of hide-and-seek.
Summer is such fun.
- me
The mynas wait for
jarul berries to ripen.
Summer brings sweet joy.
- me
The wind lifts and plays
with the skirts of prim old trees.
Summer is such fun.
- Max
The trees play Chinese
whispers with the whistling wind.
Summer is such fun.
- me
Dawn opens to boom boom
of coucal pheasants.
Summer is such fun.
- Alaka
Roses in the park,
Calotropis in the dump.
Some are more equal.
- Max
Cops in the park,
armymen swagger in the dump.
Some are more equal.
- Max
Age interprets shape:
what's a heart could be an
anaemic sickle cell?
- me
Age determines shape:
an obese lady today
was twiggy at ten.
- Max
Late morning river
stands still like a stark, white shroud.
Summer thirsts for rain.
- me
Indelible ink
voter's tag, inscrutable
glacial smear.
- Max
Clever though he is,
who writes poems for the crow?
Not all black is chic.
- me
Two crows sailed to
Zanzibar years ago, no
other birds today.
- Max
The fledgeling crow takes
her first diffident flight. The
wind in the face thrills.
- me
Indian lore and saint
poets adore the corw. Not all
chic is writeworthy.
- Alaka
Clouds block out the sun
as winds drive out summer heat.
Darkness can bring joy.
- me
A cold wind blew gently
from the hills, making
ceiling fans redundant.
- Max
Thirtieth birthday:
the rebel surrenders to
the establishment.
- me
Thirtieth birthday -
them is now us.
- Alaka
Hundred year old tree
puts on flowers like a teenage
girl, when spring comes.
- me
Spring manifests its
hidden agenda slowly
or springs forth quickly.
- Max
Wilted flowers and
gaudy plastic bags both find
their way to the dump.
- me
Starved paupers and
overfed dissolutes find their way
to the droll graveyard.
- Max
Black clouds show up at
last, parched mouths open in hope,
but promises break.
- me
Man breaking promise,
is a cad, a louche, but prim
nature doesn't care.
- Max
The gulmohar, its
pods shed, falls into silence.
Spring shall come again.
- me
We shed hair, teeth and
dignity. Spring once over,
never comes again.
- Max
Leaves of gulmohur shiver
in the breeze as if under the
fingers of an expert pianist.
- Alaka
Peepul leaves ask the
monsoon wind - when will it rain?
Too much summer bores.
- me
Wintry morning,
torrid noon, moist chill after
sundown. All seasons.
- Max
Bodies sweat, sigh, sweat
as clouds mask, unmask the sun.
Joy and gloom play tag.
- me
Spring's friskiness is
mauled by summer, forced into
motherhood by rain.
- Max
River waters swell,
warning their rule is coming.
Summer waits for rain.
- me
Spring leaving heavy-
faced, summer established
conquistadore camp.
- Max
taking baby steps.
- Alaka
Red-whiskered bulbul
amidst inky-blue jamuns.
Contrast is beauty.
- me
Jet black raven eyeing
a still, snow-white cat.
Contrast is startling.
- Max
A crow's artless nest
in a summer-tattered tree.
Home is still sweet home.
- me
Thorny acacia
repels raptor, kind to
the weaver bird.
- Alaka
Pied myna in flight -
black, white and a dash of red.
Spring's feathers delight.
- me
The corner street
mongrel prowls
innocently through
the summer night.
Death hangs loose
on its crinkled skin.
- Nuzhat
The stronger the sun
the deeper the shadows.
What irony!
- Alaka
The shadows and the
sun play games of hide-and-seek.
Summer is such fun.
- me
The mynas wait for
jarul berries to ripen.
Summer brings sweet joy.
- me
The wind lifts and plays
with the skirts of prim old trees.
Summer is such fun.
- Max
The trees play Chinese
whispers with the whistling wind.
Summer is such fun.
- me
Dawn opens to boom boom
of coucal pheasants.
Summer is such fun.
- Alaka
Roses in the park,
Calotropis in the dump.
Some are more equal.
- Max
Cops in the park,
armymen swagger in the dump.
Some are more equal.
- Max
Age interprets shape:
what's a heart could be an
anaemic sickle cell?
- me
Age determines shape:
an obese lady today
was twiggy at ten.
- Max
Late morning river
stands still like a stark, white shroud.
Summer thirsts for rain.
- me
Indelible ink
voter's tag, inscrutable
glacial smear.
- Max
Clever though he is,
who writes poems for the crow?
Not all black is chic.
- me
Two crows sailed to
Zanzibar years ago, no
other birds today.
- Max
The fledgeling crow takes
her first diffident flight. The
wind in the face thrills.
- me
Indian lore and saint
poets adore the corw. Not all
chic is writeworthy.
- Alaka
Clouds block out the sun
as winds drive out summer heat.
Darkness can bring joy.
- me
A cold wind blew gently
from the hills, making
ceiling fans redundant.
- Max
Thirtieth birthday:
the rebel surrenders to
the establishment.
- me
Thirtieth birthday -
them is now us.
- Alaka
Hundred year old tree
puts on flowers like a teenage
girl, when spring comes.
- me
Spring manifests its
hidden agenda slowly
or springs forth quickly.
- Max
Wilted flowers and
gaudy plastic bags both find
their way to the dump.
- me
Starved paupers and
overfed dissolutes find their way
to the droll graveyard.
- Max
Black clouds show up at
last, parched mouths open in hope,
but promises break.
- me
Man breaking promise,
is a cad, a louche, but prim
nature doesn't care.
- Max
The gulmohar, its
pods shed, falls into silence.
Spring shall come again.
- me
We shed hair, teeth and
dignity. Spring once over,
never comes again.
- Max
Leaves of gulmohur shiver
in the breeze as if under the
fingers of an expert pianist.
- Alaka
Peepul leaves ask the
monsoon wind - when will it rain?
Too much summer bores.
- me
Wintry morning,
torrid noon, moist chill after
sundown. All seasons.
- Max
Bodies sweat, sigh, sweat
as clouds mask, unmask the sun.
Joy and gloom play tag.
- me
Spring's friskiness is
mauled by summer, forced into
motherhood by rain.
- Max
River waters swell,
warning their rule is coming.
Summer waits for rain.
- me
Spring leaving heavy-
faced, summer established
conquistadore camp.
- Max
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