uday balakrishnan Poems
- Our Son Returns Arrivals are always difficult The awkward ...
- Fragments Ruins and what are they? A mass of stones ...
- Gossamer Webs Of Memories A culvert opens on your face But ...
- Anjengo An old fort lies desolate and Lost in a village ...
- Helpless And then when it comes to you A choke in the throat...
- Feeling Old? Age finally catches up It is there with you ...
- And When You Get Old Suits worn untidily And that is if you ...
So what do I say about myself?
That I write under my real name?
Or that I am a semi grounded wanderer
Who has tripped the world's wilder parts?
For over fifty years now?
Do I mention what I do -
Manage people, crippled inside
With fears and worries endless sympathy?
Can that be the bureaucrat I think I am?
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Our Son Returns
Arrivals are always difficult
The awkward greeting
That tentative grimace unfurling into a smile
A guffaw and then the hug
Melts formality and time
He is back home again for a while
Seems to me he never left
Ah what fun!