Showing posts with label storm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label storm. Show all posts

Saturday, July 10, 2021

Ode to the Dancing Tree

​If it sways
in tune with the wind,
I would call it a tree
with conviction...
Toward the music in the storm,
the rhythm in the dust
it kicks up,
our powdered egos.

Oh, indeed what we need
is conviction, a bit of honesty.
The world craves such follies,
to save itself from radios,
and speeches of bearded supremos,
Sundays, weekdays, every day,
while we seek corners where 
there is music, and also some silence.

The trees have stopped their dance,
the wind is but a tired labourer
trudging home,
after a toil for relevance.
It is monsoon, 
but these seasons hardly matter.
Yet we long for the rush,
some melody, and some stillness.​

-- Leslie Xavier


Thursday, June 03, 2021

The Fallen Champa Tree

I turned slyly away from 
a fallen friend,
the mellow red comrade 
whose philosophy I watered once.
She pleaded... Not guilty;
it was the storm.
I walked away, and now,
in the night it haunts me,
an eerie song.
I toss and turn.

Sprawled on her side,
helpless, bleeding perhaps,
while I rushed 
toward the unkempt side,
the place where I depart
from empathy,
and opt for a juggle,
a skip across time and space,
balancing the lefts and rights
of breathing a lie, living a truth.

A fairy tale rings the bell,
where a proud man
fell to his knees
and then the author helped
him become a fable
for little kids
to learn from.
Lesson One: Never walk away
when aspiration bites the dust.
But, oh but, I am in a perpetual fall.

The Epilogue


She stands tall again,
an arm missing
but the soul green, 
evergreen...
Have you seen the soul,
I prod my shadow
as he turns away again,
hiding his face,
fading into the anonymity
offered by a setting sun.

-- Leslie Xavier

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Legacy Doodles

There is a time
when time itself  
stands still. 
Long enough 
for us to kneel 
and draw doodles 
on the loose sand 
while out for a tan.  

On a beach 

we paint our legacy, 
build skyscrapers, 
a few dreams; 
and let time, after its siesta, 
blow its storm to prove again 
that it's ashes to ashes, 
dust to dust!
Pic: Wikipedia