John Matthew
Time Stands Still over Govandi Station
A kite flutters, On a high tension wire – Against a stark blue sky. Beggar and old mother huddle On Govandi Railway Station – The dirtiest station in the universe. He shows her a
Die in shame!
You hide your face in shame, But I can see your private parts, Have you no contrition, To expose yourself, shamelessly, thus? Tell me what does it feel, To be watched while you strain?
The Bombay Train Song
He hangs on dangling handholds As the train sways and careens Endless nondescript buildings unfold Their secrets as the tired warrior returns. The day is over the night falls Thickly through the barricaded windows
To an Online Friend
May be the whole thing was a dream, Pinched myself awake this morn, To check if you are there, virtually, And felt your sudden absence online! Be sure you will always exist, In a
Being Me!
Wild are my ways, wilder than you think You will find me standing a little left of frame You will find me a little away from the meeting place I am that and much
Resolutions
Resolutions I have made, Kept, I have none, Why do I have to make, Resolutions anymore? I pause through endless time, For this year to pass, And the lights of celebration to die, On
Sonnet for Mother
Decked in blooms, Swaddled in gold filigreed shrouds, Smeared with perfumes, She traveled into the clouds. A life of love lived, A life of more giving than taking, Living a life of tears shed,
Is White a Color?
White, pristine, unblemished They say it is not a color I love white mists, clouds Lingering on blue mountains. White, no shades No off white, cream Pure as snow on shimmering peaks Is my
Where Giant Mushrooms Grow!
In Nevada there is a field where giant mushrooms grow One mile high and two miles wide, they say on the show That’s where they test how to vaporize people and flesh By splitting
Delhi – A Re-visitation
It’s akin to visiting my foster mother, today, That I am returning to you, mother city, after twenty years, I look at your broad, bereft blood-stained streets, mater, Through which emperors, prime ministers cavalcaded,
Muskaan – A Poem
When she smiles she sends happiness A million pleasant thrills of the heart To parched souls thirsting for love In the vast desert of human affairs. Oh, is there in this world such a
To my son
You will realize this wisdom, When you are my age, and experience, Gained from being in vexing situations, Yet, being out of it. You do the same, There is a joy in detachment, Forsaking
Bombay
In your bosom we wake up with fear, In your sky there’s only unending tears, You always roar, but within, Hangs silence like a shroud of death. You are rocked, periodically, by bombs, Yet,
Passing showers
Yesterday a passing, transient shower, Slaked my thirst so gently, softly, Showers in March are unheard – In this arid part of the world. They say the world is dying, I know, I remember
Loneliness
I pause midway in the in the whirl, Of deadlines, things undone, And average the sadness and joys – There remains only loneliness, Of which I see no cure, No bitter palliatives, no anodyne.