Evocation (Completed..!)

Dead leaves light, ready in frolick,
crisper than the best of chips.
With a crunchy sound you are crushed
into a thousand flickery pieces.

In a nice cookie's dark brown tone you
invite. If my sense hadn't meddled, my
sensibilities would have had you
popped in, my throat shall have choked!

Dry leaves on cobblestone paths
and on brown earth ready for the frosts.
Falling from tired branches with an ease that
fail with the words I have tried to wrought.

I pity you this autumn day for there
are no breezy winds to saunter you away-
To those cosy nooks you had sought
when fluttering, shivering from branches above.

Strewn around like warriors on a battle ground,
would you be turned into humus or fade off
like memories of kintergarden teachers
whose grandeur, age only seems to tear asunder?

Why oh crisp creatures do you with your
dark brown cookie colors wake up in me
a scent of Tragedy? Of no particular rhyme,
no reason but leave my full being lost and forlorn.

You are not to be blamed though as
Roschachs wouldn't be or a couple of
downed pegs couldn't be nor that simple strain
that made me cry alone in last year's rain.

Bears out the fact that the poetic mode alone has the freshness and incisiveness to carry protest

http://www.hindu.com/lr/2003/12/07/stories/2003120700300400.htm

Daddy's Tale

Sleep my pretty child, sleep deep
Days could grow long, this moon shall eclipse.
The night now is dark and sweet,
breeze and dew unfailing;
the dreams yet are fairytales,
mommy's lullaby accompanying.
Lock em safely in deep vaults child,
age them like wine.
Collect ye leaves and petals and
press them in your mind.

I wish your days don't stretch like mine
but someday you would see-
that dried petals and old wine
are certain cures for reality.

Choice

I itch to write long sentences
and track all my curious thoughts.
I wish to paint in oils the combinations
nature forgot. I ache to
to wander the green campus
and photograph against it beautiful nymphs
and to roam the city and graph its
sickly sweet sights.

But would I recognise the trade-offs,
find the will to stand by this life,
and turn blind to other petty ones
that constantly woo a baser mahesh.