jasmine breeze
wisps of those
forgotten lyrics
***
foggy windscreen
that old Hindi film song
on the radio
***
brooding noon
all romances are not
happily ever after
***
hazy moon
am I really that
myopic?
**”
twilit call
trails into
a s t r e t c h o f s i l e n c e
***
All these four micropoems , or haiku if I may call them, are threaded by a common link – an undercurrent of wistfulness – and of course the seasons.
Like Tagore has said, in his innumerable songs, how every season has its cadence and how the entire cosmos has a rhythm to it, so are these haiku, throb with the weightlessness of muted longings.
Loved it … your verses capture the perfect Tagorean Vairagya… 🫶🏻
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Thank you so much Aparna…coming from you
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Obliged 🙏
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Each tiny poem feels like a small memory passing by!
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Thank you so much Mr. P.
That was the intent.
You have an ingrained sensitivity towards poetry.
Why do you avoid it?
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Haha… poetry is like deep water. Nice to look at, but jumping inside needs strong swimming.This fellow prefers standing near the shore, clapping for those who dive bravely. 😀😀
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Modesty thy name is….
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😀😀😀
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Yes Geeta Ji, you are right in quoting Tagore in perfect manner. 🌹🌹
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Thank you so much Rajendraji. Your words mean a lot
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Wistful, indeed
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Thank you so much Derrrick 🙏
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Beautifully written poems Geeta. Love the atmosphere you’ve created with them.
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Thank you so much Sadje. I am glad you liked them.
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You’re very welcome dear friend
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