HARE RAM

Keeps us awake
all night their high-decibel
chant of 'Hare Ram'

--R.K.SINGH

AT THE WINDOW

At the crowded window
implores the clerk to process
his papers but
he ignores, irritates
at the end -- abuses


--R.K.SINGH

READY TO HUG

Ready to hug
the moon and the venus
from my window


--R.K.SINGH

ON THE WALL

On the wall
witnesses of the past
moth-eaten


--R.K.SINGH

PEACE MISSION

He is amazed to see
so much corruption
in the system
of world peace

his colleagues envious
of his foreign jaunt
with the UN
and earnings

in dollars, rise so soon
in career and
have the best of
life and style

while I worry about
freedom in Congo
untamed humans
safe sojourn

--R.K.SINGH

CRAVINGS

Short nights and long days
sleep loss rustles a friction
echoing in bed
the cycle of cravings
over and over again

--R.K.SINGH

LINGAM

Searches thorn apples
to propitiate the lingam
in lonely sanctum

--R.K.SINGH

THE RIVER LEAKS

The river between
the thighs leaks from the palms
fails to cup the fire
melting furiously
through the red heart to the cave


--R.K.SINGH

SOME MORE HAIKU

Twenty nine years in
a vat yet not ready for
feelings of old age


Images converge
on the mirage of body
moulded yoni


Seeking pleasure
in moulded faces
tiny fingers


My being grows
from her flame in the mind
feeding soul


Expand smile
marigold's yellow petals--
the spring sun


Flying to the tubelight
one after the other
two owls picking moths


--R.K.SINGH

MOTHER

It's prayer to sink
into her flesh and bury
myself in her breast
to escape the faithless hands
that never became mother


--R.K.SINGH

DREAMS

Filled with worries
all her dreams in basket--
runs to catch the train
sand and mud dried on hands
ghostfish biting the lungs


--R.K.SINGH

FOG: SOME HAIKU

His presence
among the known faces—
evening fog

A thin fog
hides the wintry moon
rising slowly

Slowly clears
the morning fog
end of the year

Hides the sun
a dense fog in the morning:
waning winter

Stench of burning leaves
mounts with fog in the evening
asthmatic breathing

East faced
yoga in the fog
breathlessness

Shrouded in fog
the lone pomegranate
in the backyard

Wrapped in fog
the flying plane
seen by sound

Feels the shadow
with wet fingers on the beach:
sound through the fog

--R.K.SINGH