udhaya's prosody

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Truth

on May 23, 2004

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is the potter's wheel
but in the hands
the stories lie

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Sensory Savant

My ears are nets catching whispers, prayers and conversations in public. My heart’s a handrail gathering imprints of emotions from what the eye gleams. My nose adds flavor to highlight the take. My mind’s the boss divvying up the loot; meanings form and deform in its jingling pocket until an entry finally informs the knowledge bank.

rain drop--an autobiography

i’m a drop from the evening rain trickling through leaves and thorns before landing on the blossom my destination delights me my journey defines me

a dozen years--an anniversary poem

A dozen is special even for the roses But it means much more for enduring spouses The best things in life can’t be summed up The most heartfelt emotions always clam up Tender things often go unsaid But the thrill for me is still undead Like a well-worn book with dog ears We’ve filled our love with triumphs and tears You make my heart swell like a melon Even if you sometimes treat me like a felon You can probably write pages with reasons for leaving But it speaks volumes the fact you’ve been staying My love for you is a grand epic It will be the same when I’m a relic The past will be forgotten Without you being in it The present is cherished Because you’re a part of it The future is welcoming For we’re still in it

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