Kanher

No recompense for the thousand shards of self
What about this smothering cloud
What of the travails of a long journey

Buzzards one and two, high they used to fly. I noticed them
Frequently on my long wind-bitter winter walks
A whimsy with its own color and smell

I did not see them along the decaying heights of New York
None. Drifters, yes, hordes of them, fellows 

Stranded on the artistic bends. Quiet
And turbulent souls on late-night homeward trains

No respite from living, from breathing the continuum
Veins are freed from the weather’s wrath; but storms?

Always always on the way back, a clockwork of the absurd —
The Kanher loses a shade of red each summer with me

This evening could almost kill me and yet.
 

--

Anant Dhavale

(Kanher : Nerium Oleander)

Mayflower

A gossamer thin ocean hits low notes today 

Only the lower ones, the hapless sullen lover

The nonchalant up - above couldn’t care less 

Wind bleats, boat creaks, pet dogs merry-hop in the sea-wind

These shores they say have seen the Mayflower

And yet, several hundred others sunk to the merciful bottom

Going down is hard albeit low effort

People of the first light walked here; waters are the finest monuments

To have seen it all. Flotsam of undaunted lives

Lighthouses, moved and freshly painted still can't shake off 

Dim fragments of light swept in from the depths of turbulent nights

The biggest moon of the year's impending, we must head back 

Soon. Quietly we exchange smiles like vows. 

Sense drowns deep in me or perhaps it’s the nip of the wind

Like a fool I toss away my shoes and walk 

Barefoot on the beach, soft sand and silken touch and all. 

.Anant