poetry

it falls with morning dew
it drops like feathers shed
and sails as silent as the moon.

it whispers in the breeze
it whistles in the wind,
may blow and roar with thunderous storm.

sometimes i sing
of flowers around my feet;
at times the muse may roam
on fields beyond the farthest stars
to pearly gates and golden streets.

i love to dance to merry tunes,
to hop and frolic on downy green grass,
but stone weight in the heart
iron shackles on the feet
may drag me down.

my music softly sighs
or groans with anguished soul,
may plumb the depth of darkness
or view a rainbow in the sky.

the canvas may be small
portraying a ladybird,
or seek to paint the universe
with myriad colours, bold strokes.

in school of poetry learners can explore
the backyard, mountains, oceans, outer space and more.

weather

the sky is sullen today
the woods are quite dark
the fields take a different hue
even flowers fail to cheer
bright swords flash in the clouds
rain beats hard on the windshield
the way ahead is wrapped in mist
where has yesterday’s sun gone?

the clouds are lifting now
a patch of blue sky shows
the brooding trees raise up their heads
the sun will shine again.

lost songs

In the buzz and din of daily existence
I have lost my music, I have lost my song;
In the rush and crush of scurrying crowding
They have gone and stolen away.

Gone is the dawn’s whispered melody,
Piano of morning, noonday’s violin,
Afternoon’s soothing tune on the flute,
Twilight’s tinkling bells.

Gone is the choir of evening
Cricket singing soprano;
Late night’s sound of silence
Is mute, muffled by city noise.

With all those voices grown dumb
I have lost my music, I have lost my song.

hanging on

hanging on the brink
of the rock cliff
over abyss
i could hurl headlong
into the pit
of eternal night.
i’m hanging.

flight

it’s time to prepare
for goodbyes,
tie loose ends
shed extras
concentrate
on the point
the diamond tip
of being.

time to bid goodbye
to pain, joy, hope
concentrate, concentrate
on the one
the point

and so take wing
to the unknown yet known.

lost

lost on these mountains,
night has caught me.

they say there’s help
on the mountains

so i cry out
cry out

“help elp ep ep eh....”
stone walls echo
breaking eerie silence.

silence.

some more pics

Our beautiful two months’ excursion has come to an end. It’s back to the buzz and grind of Mumbai now. But a few reminders of the trip here.

In Native American section of Smithsonian museum, Washington DC, we saw some weaving with striking similarity to Mizo designs.



We bought a miniature Cherokee Indian drum from a craft shop in East Virginia. It looks very much like Mizo drum.


Inside Luray Caverns in East Virginia, there is a wonder world of fantastic stalactite formations.















When we came back to Canada, before leaving for India, we took a last walk on this route:






And had this dinner:




Then on our way home.

fireworks plus

21st June night was the annual fireworks over Detroit river. It’s a joint show from three boats by Canada and US. We drove to the river side from Windsor, carrying a sleeping bag and loads of munches and drinks, and settled down on a spot.

A carnival atmosphere there, and for the first time after landing in Canada i get to see a big crowd of people.



After quite a wait, the sun began to set.



It was 9 o’clock by then. In about an hour, it became dark and the show started. It was grand. Here are some of the shots.







Then to US--New York and New Jersey. We went out on a ferry.

Ellis island.


Here’s us in the boat.


Heading towards the Statue of Liberty.



The same night we drove to Time Square, New York. This is how it looked after 11 in the night.



They say the city never sleeps.

Later an outing to Manhattan Central Park

by Metro.



And then to Jones Beach on Atlantic Ocean


Getting quite wet



Followed by a big Mexican dinner.







Life is fun at times, isn’t it?

I’m immensely thankful to God, people from churches, and family members, who gave us this wonderful vacation

trip pics

One thing that hit me about Canada is the houses, quiet clean green streets and spaces. In that sense it feels like the land of dreams.

Here’s our sister’s house we stayed in in Waterloo.


We are now staying in this house of our brother in Windsor:


This is the street and house just across:



It’s so good going for walks in places like these:





Niagara Falls was overwhelming.





We had to wear raincoats for going in a boat under the falls.



One day we went to Farmers’ Market.





We watched a cattle auction. I was horrified to think that this was how they may have auctioned human slaves in olden days, though not in Canada.



And bought a tiny musical instrument from this Native American.



In the afternoon we went on Lake Ontario in a relative’s boat like one of these on the right corner:



We towed this little machine (skidoo) along:



We took turns to pillion ride on it, with Ron driving. My turn came too.




It was huge fun.

The other day a friendly neighbor invited me to drop in. Her friends came visiting too.



And so on. But it’s getting too long, more later.