flight [ hostage to language]

like juxtaposed oxymorons
caged freedom
breathes
in the dreams
of an insomniac

truth
as everything else
has an opposite
from which breaks free
the spirit!

its' flight
irrespective
of language
means 'liberty'!

a sketch a face

still lines
but not without
unpredictable mood-swings

just lines
in parabolic
and hyperbolic
trajectories

a reality
sometimes tangent
at other times
dots in a straight line

searching
for what is
or what is not

the face
in the sketch
a loved one
or anyone
so familiar
yet evading recall

dwindling sensitivity
or feigned amnesia?
a sketch
or a face

dear witness ..

/original/z.g.

postman

chasing
butterflies
the boy
finds a paper rocket

discovers
a message
no from
no to

thinks
if
love is
an accident

courtesy
a drunken postman
serendipity

/original//z.g.

[ Ed-
stanza one - rearranged
Line 6 :an intimate message
Line 7 : 'from' or 'to' entries
Line 8 : nil
Line 9 :wonders
Lines 11 & 12 - rearranged
Line 15 coincidence /deleted
Line 16: alias serendipity ]

a chat

the hushed up scents..
the gentle perfumes
of the flowers..
..almost reached me..

..z.g.."a chat with beka"

expression in slow motion..

Many lilies and hollyhocks,
gerberas and chrysanthymums,
scents of muffled up fancies flowed,
musky wishful imaginings,flowered

and blossomed in the enclosures
of my mind.
A canopy of reason
to escape the acid rain.

A hedge of hawthorn,
to resist being trampled upon
and that done,
a good ol' garden gate,

which however,
those tresspassing thoughts
gatecrashed,
to mingle and congregate.

Somehow,
my hedge of hawthorn,
took a long long while
to find its full expression,

joked someone
is it autistic,
artistic,may be!
and yet i got drawn

to a moment, bygone
when a crown, the Christ had worn
of the thorns of hawthorn !../original/z.g//

hide and seek

it was the arrested development
of that moment
into which the dusk
had gotten trapped,

like a freeze shot
from a suspense thriller,
and i watched the little girl
kick that ball,and fall
kick that ball, and fall

and which was bouncier
the ball,or the girl,
the mystery didn't unfurl

she was on her way back
from school
telling her own self
that the sun was nothing
but a firefly
that she needed to catch

in her butterfly net
for her new scrapbook
and therefore the stupid sun
who was sometimes her hooky playmate

was playing hide and seek with her
on her homeward bound
return journey

..but.. the sun continued
to hide and seek.. another girl,another place,another time... another life.
..in what looked like.. the same planet..//original//....z.g

valentine's day

..paper- boats
.. of desires or thoughts..
for some strange reason..
lose their way again

into unknown bermuda triangles

and i do feel tempted
to reverberate with
another lifeform's 'whim',
volatility or "restlessness"

or even to simply
{ape,borrow,or plagiarize it}
.. and celebrate its' resistance to being
caged..
in a specific "art form"..

obviously because
it overlays sanity
with impressions and epithets
verging upon the "dangerous"

and thereby glean across
those periods of history
from mayan hairstyles
to anti dandruff cranky tag lines

in the smallest imaginable
measurement of time

and then, consequently,
opt to volunteer
to breakthrough
into an .. illusion..
on a borrowed trojan horse..
and..

decide to revel
in the imagery
of "clay and paint"..
that always deserved to be manifest
on the covers of elitist art magazines

as also, in the discipline
of "string and dance"..
pitted against patience and time,
and in any demographic predicament..
also against..space..

and watch my own thoughts slip by..
..like a filmstrip,
as someone performs to a bonfire,
in the solitary wilderness
of the moon..

..tomorrow is valentine's day..
but why not ask somebody ,
if tomorrow ever comes?//original//z.g.