Crowds, do not bustle

Stop in your tracks and everyone’s.
Freeze as you are, unstuck in time

Like white Himalayan snow caught
In a motionless vortex of the pines

As a sun that would unfreeze them
At next dawn, himself froze at dusk

As ball of snow that a white widow
Flung at man to freeze honeymoon.

Stop, bustling crowds in the streets
So you won’t vanish at the corners.

Planet creek school

It was just school bus for tiny tots.
We continue to live in our planet.

Yellow bus goes by its self motion
Steered by its fatalistic bus driver,

Not a google run bus on internet
Moving on to planet in the creek.

Tiny school kids are inside the bus,
Going to rote multiplication table

And A for Apples and P for planet
And voices rise like the bees’ hum.

Yellow school bus taking children
To learn the multiplication tables

Was heading towards planet creek.
At the end was no sea of learning.

All we were doing is philosophize
For laugh over the times’ quiddity.

A driver fatalistic about school bus
Is one-up take on a school system.

Borges’ maze

Into the labyrinth, let us recall
The old blind poet’s death day.

We can’t guess when the poet
Was born in imagined library,

Before blindness set on books.
A reader had a recent birthday

Surely , may have many more
If he wakes from his blindness

To live memories of birthdays,
When kids made funny sounds

On birthday’s toffees he gave
And tongues would hit roofs

Of the kid mouths that knew
No blind old poets in mazes.

Your coffee or mine

Whatever I say, now I forget
What I contained in the past.

I forget all my old certitudes.
I forget I was ever the same

Bumbling contradicting self
A little too small for old self

So I say your coffee or mine.
And I forget I was too small

For any major contradiction.
As always, a little too small

For saying, what I say a big
That I am a little too small .

Poor boys

Many moons ago the moon and sun
Were small kids playing on sky-roof.

An old hag of grandma forgot they
Were playing on roof, since the sky

Was just this high ,anyone climbed.
A low hung sky pestered her back

As the old hag was sweeping earth.
In irritation, she pushed the sky up.

And the poor boys ,sun and moon
Could not climb down ,poor boys.