Sunday, February 5, 2012

Grand Pa .. I Dont Want To Shoot Pictures

Zaira Saif Shakir My Third Grand Child Has a Photographers Vision

Grand Pa Why Do You Want Me To Become a Street Photographer

marziya nerjis and you
why are you adding me
to the queue
of street photographers
in our family that
give the poor
the neglected
the hopeless
the homeless
his due
you hate sunsets
wildlife landscape
insects birds in flight
so true silhouettes
of a river and a lonely canoe
barefeet blogging
the soul of humanity
no i dont want to be
a street photographer
grand pa no thank you
que sera i will be what
i want to be human
humble loving
god daughter
of an American Jew
uncle glenn losack
a brother of 'a shia hindu

Tim Misiak and The Beggar Poet of Mumbai

She Now Belongs To Someone Else

from the soul
of my silence
i hear wedding bells
i the living
dead poet
a winding sheet
a deathly knell
she lives in heaven
i seek my hell
i gave her
unconditional love
my soul
i could not sell
a beggar poet
a rowdy rebel
come April
an year
will stretch
like a wide ocean
is all i can tell
her beauty
her laughter
her bodily smell
warrior queen

Russel Gaitonde I Met Luck By Chance

i wove a dream
within his dream
in fabric stitched
smooth fully cut
tailored trance
before he began
with a beautiful princess
his new love romance
conjoined as one
at the Marriott
they took the floor
to dance
music melody
they did enchant
a fairy tale
a s it grew
from a potted plant

Some Wounds Never Fester They Holistically Heal

your ancestry
your heritage
your traditions
your values reveal
you are nothing
but a spoke
within a wheel
within a wheel
you are his shadow
you are his seal
you may hide
from your inner soul
you cannot conceal
you are the husk
of hope an onion peel
what is yours
even fate cant steal
before god created
the ant
he created its meal
unlike man who
creates children
to populate
the earth
to trample
them beneath
his heel
death is
a poetic
life an ordeal
from one stray
to another
you levitate
you cartwheel

to your mother
your wife
your children
in silence
i echo
you are
a good boss
a good human
my ideal
feet made of clay
you are concrete
mixed with steel

to KB..


the collective
ethos of man
we all know
the greatest
that wont
man to grow
only pain
man to man
man to god
as blood
on the soul
of disparity
on the parched
of life
as it froze
in death
as a shia
pain is my
from my mothers
womb it flows
by the winds
into my
souls windows
the land of
my destiny
my poetry and my prose
enemies of hussain
are my only foes
hussain o minni
wa ana minal hussain
a pain that
never goes

Hooked On Facebook A Dreamer Who Is a Great Cook

Navratri Khamkhya Temple Assam

Courtesy Jyoti A Deka Guwahati