By Jay


The window shut, just like that
and Summer was gone
its scents and sleeping blackberries
awoke to the wind and falling leaves
combed, over and over,
tawny and crumpled.

Like Ophelia, I dream,
gentle crucifixion,
water for blood
and lilies for sleep.

Down the winding stream,
Autumn and hardest Winter,
I shall arrive,

I’ll go on, when faces harden,
bodies stoop from rain and snow,
darkness follows like an endless wall,
hope is found in bright crevices
flowers that break out
loud keys of daffodils
daisies, dandelions and gurgling fountain
and, on the shoulder,
once again, the sun shall lay its hand.

I will not start
from that bold touch,
from the embrace
the unveiling and the awoken folk.
I won’t be dazzled by the high flags of the sky,
or be imprisoned by the fallen walls, unmarked days.

I’ll keep drifting, like Ophelia,
a smile on my face
and no fear in my heart
for what I cannot see.

7 September, 2017

Continue reading “Poems”

Of a simpler time – a poem

By Akhilesh; https://akhileshmagal.in/

Don’t you remember those days?
When you knew where you lived,
from the neighbours around you.
When you knew who you were,
from those loved ones who reminded you of yourself in dark times.
When houses were built to house people,
and not empty things and objects that no-one really wants.

Do you remember those days,
when the summer rains would blow from the west precisely at four in the evening?
And the kind Ajji next door will remind you that your clothes are out.
When everybody knew everybody and their everybody.
You hated the fact that you couldn’t be invisible.
Be careful what you wish for.
Today all of us are invisible in the maddening crowd,
Invisible and insignificant.

I remember those days,
when we didn’t know where we would be eating tonight.
Not for any lack, but a surplus of loving kitchens.
When, cricket was played on the streets,
until the street lamps glowed orange, or until the ball was lost.
Those unfettered days of freedom, have we tasted,
and nothing seems sweeter than that first love.

My friend, let us remember those days,
When life was far simpler.
The continuity of the past brought a comfort in a fast changing world.
Our desires were simple, our possession simpler.
Our minds in search for the truest expression of the self.
Our bodies clothed by simple expressions of the tailor,
Our hearts unmasked from the insatiable greed of being a consumer.

I remember those days,
When the streets would go quiet by seven,
And the night would cast her shadows deep into
the ancient trees that dotted the square.
When the morning would indeed be our morning,
rising with dawn to welcome the sun’s blessing into our homes.

Alas, todays illumination is without,
from cell phones that cast eerie shadows on your dim faces well into the night.
And today’s connection is to be found in an etherial realm.
We are closer and yet father than we ever could be.

I yearn for those bygone days,
where simplicity was a virtue.
And a human was still a human.

Akhilesh, India

Where to go? The struggle of disassociation and fear.

Fear, hopelessness and sorrow can cause us to try and separate ourselves from society, not just out of self-protection but, also, self-detachment or disassociation. It can be difficult to take any action because we lose touch with our self. Without the guidance of interests, passions and hopes, inertia can result.

I don’t know much about myself at the moment, but, I know that I sometimes am interested in reading and, also, history. I question myself whether these interests are just another means to avoid action and enable disassociation.

Moreover, they’re not consistent guides, as, for example, my choice of reading is irregular and depends a lot on chance. Lately, I have been mostly moved to leave my home for either walks in nature or to attend places of historical memory, especially, museums or cemeteries. In one case, this was triggered by reading a biography of a famous writer. I still don’t have a sense of taking necessary and important actions and have doubts about why I am doing things but, I do feel that these interests are worth holding onto for me.

Continue reading “Where to go? The struggle of disassociation and fear.”

Poems from a veil – 23 January 2021

The words go unread
like the rain

a bridge
of dusks.

upon the firs
the sun’s flock

watch them rise
to the tall trees
marking boundaries.



The rain
turned all around.

but not the ship
nor the sea

not the day
nor her night

the sparrows
will sing of walks
in other worlds.



The night’s rain
heart opening

face of the stream

the fields
of white gulls.