Though King Sozhan stakes the red scepter,
All canopied in moon-bright white
Clasping the Ganga River to himself,
Lament not, Kaveri, long may you live!
...
All my life I have longed
To tune the woods and sing
A song of joy,
To know the instrument of self
...
The dream I fathered has disowned me now
And vanished out of bounds of Memory Town.
I called the Secret Squad and told them how
That dream had stayed awhile with me and flown
...
Yesterday and yesterday and yesterday
Accumulate the baggage of the Past,
Some bits for re-enactment in the Future.
Successors can call it History.
...
Snapshots of moments, that's what poems are.
Some people are keener of the camera.
'I am a camera'. Think of a person
Whose head is a camera, adjusting his ear-knobs.
...
The walls are falling.
Earth shrugs its shoulders,
Jails crack and are level with the ground.
In the high tower the chains crumble
...
Locked in the comfort of his tragedy,
He grows into a self-chosen hero,
Lofty as a Hamlet of indecision,
Declaiming lines of noble agony.
...
A room full of people:
Sad, solemn, grave, they sip their drinks
And tease their segments of experience
For a private view.
...
Anil the squirrel was bold and brave,
He could race, he could leap,
He could climb like a knave.
...
I shrivel in your absence;
I moult,
I grow a carapace,
I shrink from every touch.
...