Ear pain in Hyderabad

Ear pain comes out of too much thought
When thought contradicts logic in maze
Of words that strike you as so many moths
From the rain seeking light in your patio.

The doctor of the ears sees much in nose.
His obiter dictum says nose, in its septum,
Is deviated from a straight, primrose path.
He is doctor with a sharp nose for money.
So if you have much ear pain in the drum
The nose is corrected from running astray.

The tooth doctor sees fault with the gums.
He will like to get to the root of their canals
And both your ears will be made to behave.
Surely money lies at the root of the canals.

Actually ear pain comes of too little thought
And far too many words striking eardrums
Fired, at once, in excess parent enthusiasm.

The owl

At midnight the conch blows in new start,
A start of two new lives together of future.

The owl is eternally welcome at midnight.
Several owl-hoots echo in a wedding hall

To bring on back a seated wealth goddess.
We welcome wise-owls by our own hoots.

(At a marriage ceremony, women make owl-like sounds in order to invite the Laxmi, the Goddess of Wealth who arrives on the back of an owl)

Rivers of people

we would flow with the mass of people
as a larval flow of muddy feet in queue
to see our mother sticking tongue out.

we thank goddess we are independent.
now we have our independent torsos
bathing in rivers dirty by other torsos.

(after white torsos had left our shores
to fight their own independent wars
leaving them pale as impaled moons.)

we now make an independent poem
of goddess mothers sticking tongues,
in white tongue, not  mother tongue.

(mother tongue independently sticks
out of kitschy country mother songs
sung by our high-volume school kids)

we thank our bare chested grandfather
who had made us independent people
and a wet mass of river bathing torsos.

(Today, on the 15th of August,India celebrates her 69th Independence day)

The river’s dream

The river now has a twelve year dream.
It will have torsos bathing old suns off.
But I return to bed to finish my dreams.

Temple has dream in goddess tongue
About a river touching its bathing feet
With thoughts in torsos about tongue.

A tongue shall have a dream in temple
And river drowning temples for a dam
But gods had moved to safe dry place.

Torsos have dreams to go back to bed.
Their dreams shall reside in the rivers
And temples dreaming rivers of torsos.

(For Pushkar that comes very twelve years, pilgrims take a holy dip in the river Krishna)

Gods in the snow hills

There waved tiny flags on a vast unutterable silence
Of the mountains, in rain and fog and vague figures

Whose eyes went over silky layers of September sky
Surrounded by thin mists of confusion and intellect.

There sat a monkey god, himself victim of confusion
In a frosty silence ,abetted by a stony lack of clarity.

Should I or should I not, kill demons and restore life
To God’s swooned brother,by a medicinal mountain

Or smear myself in ocher, my eyes closed in prayer
And god- wife’s pearls turn rosary for  prayer count.

The flags fluttered in confusion on our many desires.
Gods turned to prayers and frosts  would fizzle down
Now and then,to bright sun emerging from the pines.