Mr. Crow and Ms. Dove

It happened a long time ago
When a crow met a dove.
She used to coo, he crowed,
Soon they fell in love...

Mr. Crow took her out to lunch
And ordered the best of egg-crunch
Lady Dove gasped in disbelief
On seeing the death of prospective chicks...

She would have nearly fainted
Had not Mr. Crow fluttered in frenzy,
Made her sip some cool raspberry;
And call for a plate of millet cupcakes.

With a gulp of the cool drink
Lady Dove accepted their odd takes
And while she nibbled on the cupcakes
Mr. Crow ordered baked shrimp...

It happened a long time ago
That a crow met a dove
She cooed, He used to crow;
They never got out of love.

-GG

From nowhere

From nowhere came a smell
That I had smelt a long time back.
From nowhere came a memory
That I didn't suspect still existed...

Why do I still need you?

How unfair to give one blow after the other
to people who so believe in you.
You are skewed in your mercies and virtues
You are an unfair, unrepentant God.
Why do I still need you?

A windy evening

Dust, debris, papers, leaves
As if uncertain where to land,
came rain in bits and pieces.
A moment of destiny of forced togetherness
stranded strangers under a lonely tree;
A cup of tea that got cold a bit too soon;
A cup of wait, rather.
I still remember that windy evening...

-GG

Words

The words that we
catch and throw,
wait for and deliver-
Do these words make you smile
Or do they make you frown?
Do you believe they are meant for you
Or assume they are for someone else?
These words that we catch and throw,
Do you know where they go?

Walk down the street

Only walk down the street,
to know where you are placed.

On my way to Park Street the other day
I saw monkeys and jugglers lulled asleep,
High on hashish, or some such stuff,
Babies clinging, wriggling about like insects,
Babies so many, some sobbing unnoticed,
Some playing with mud and sticks.
Cooking pots and smoke on the footpath,
Old, desolate men still willing to live.
Dripping tarpaulins sloped on strings,
And water filled in yellow plastic tins,
Hands black with dirt and grime,
Filth accepted as wellbeing.

My sorrow is much less than theirs,
So is my contentment.
Only walk down the street,
And know where you are placed.

Potbellies of hunger

Potbellies of hunger;
Little palms of want, demand.
Whatever I give,
I know it's not enough...