Seema joglekar Poems

We are Geese, related to the waterfowl species,
Creatures of shadows &Silences, carried by
the power of a missed heart, That distances can't part,
Asingle glimpse, enough that someone is going somewhere.
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On New Timber rain-drenched moss play house, leaf-moulds drift,
Under it’s trysty loafing shade, lust ransacked love & both did embrace,
Gilded wantonness & robed disarray unveiled in shoulders bare,
Solemnized with names etched in the bark, kiss to seal the
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1. Love me not, with eyes yearning,
Flagging looks & charms fly,
Crab age will come by knocking,
Love me with a discerning eye.
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Night hurries, sashaying swirls off her inkish steely veils,
Delayed, despairs, laps marshes and mead, for a rendezvous in the hills,
Eager, breathless, stirring all that she brushes with her longings,
Seeing her arrive, the Full Moon bows low, almost touching the hills.
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Dawn break gently across the glen,
That those, to whom you make a difference, may be born again,
Mists make way, run,
A brand new day tied with all my hopes comes undone
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A lifetime may fall short for a love to suffice,
What’s caught in twinkle of an eye, the heavens can’t revise
Names etched in gneiss, will bring not lost eternity,
Heed love, ebbing tides in destiny’s hand, may not always agree.
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As dawn’s amber-hush operas, cast orb’s subdued flames over purple hills,
As bejeweled dew’s still visitations, as amethyst- sapphire rays’ part painted canopies,
As defiant anthers spark floral fires, preside over marriage of taping vines,
As stifled water dreams in a rainbow, joins quick –silver rolling streams,
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My only theme -5 years or more brought,
But I care not: the bards had more choice.
Fiends that conspired to lodge a wedge,
Time, fate, pedigree -in heydays did rejoice.
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Moments stampede like fleeting dew drops, now here &then gone,
Languid hours stagger to stack like a pile of wilting flowers,
Days linger in their worthlessness like a faltering smile,
Jingle of my bangles hides not the restlessness,
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In the unfurling of the brilliant robes of the sun,
Squandering her splendors, through the cloudy curtains;
In the hurting light that jolts awake,
In every bud, the unseen urge of new life
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