Life 2020-21

Poetry
Empty cities.
Deserted towns.
Where have all the people gone?

A tiny virus.
The mighty man.
Locked into 
a game of life and death.

The way of life 
we grew up to.
Social animal
that’s what we were.

Now ‘social’ 
is from a distance
No hugs. No kisses. 
Sometimes not even visits.

No one knows how long
this state will last,
But that warm hug 
I miss it.

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This addiction of mine

Poetry
I'm addicted to light. 
To colours and sounds.
The magic they play
Within and without.

I'm addicted to sunrises
Peaches and pinks
From snowy mountain tops
And deep quiet lakes.

When outdoors in nature,
and sunset light slants down.
Between trees so straight 
Growing up tall.

Or in big cities between buildings, 
this golden light falls.
Makes magic one moment,
then fades and is gone.

Mighty tall buildings
With glass windows that shine
To the light of the sun
and the street lamps at night.

The sounds of flowing water, 
birds twittering loud.
Hearing people’s laughter and talk.
It’s good to be alive 
To experience this all.

Walking amidst people
or on forest paths alone.
Immersed in the moment,
it’s sights, smells and sounds.

Addicted and lost
It's me that I found.

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From me to you. For our today…

Poetry
There was water
There was air
There was a perfect combination of elements.

There was the ground on which I stood
Soft and warm
Quite wonderful.

It is home
It is Earth
Beautiful
Beyond every word.

There are cities built by men
Buildings tall as the replaced mountains
So too are parks, gardens and greens
Like forests or an Oasis

Out in nature. 
Raw. Untouched.
Or in towns. 
With people and stuff.

A comfortable balance is the key.
A mix of both.
A world at peace.

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A Railway Carriage

Poetry
Staring out from a railway carriage
at patterns in shapes of distant mountains.
Patterns above in the clouds and trees.
Patterns in the grass greened valleys.

Blues and greens,
some spots of red.
From houses
with their rooftop tiles.

Patterns in the tiles, 
of old buildings
An eagle.
A flag,
or their year of construction.

A pattern in my journey.
Taking time out from all other tasks
Sitting  back
Relaxing
Enjoying the view
Staring out from a railway carriage.

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Shadows

Poetry
Shadows on the pavement.
Walking past.
Going in the direction
I'm coming from.

Strangers in their grey.
Tall or short.
They are like me
one and all.

For behind me
comes my shadow.
Grey, 
like them before.

Shadows.
That’s what we cast on this earth,
as on it we pass.

Shadows
that know no colour,
creed or caste.

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Winter colours

Poetry
Three women in a room.
Three shades of Beige and Black.
It is winter in an European land.

Where have all the colours gone?
Why are our clothes so stark?

The reds, the greens.
The blues, that Gelb.
What made us put them away?
Just when we needed them the most.

Outside the skies are grey.
Hanging low and closed.
The trees are black.
Shorn of their leaves.
The days are short. Dark before four.

The winter landscape 
Black or grey 
and beige.
Sad.

Ladies why not put on some colours 
that chase these blues away?

Reds that warm. 
Oranges and pinks
Greens and yellows 
Bring them out.

Bring them out.
Bring them out.
Now.
Please.
🙂

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First day of winter…

Poetry
Autumn's gone
And here comes winter.
 
Drawing closer
Endlessly colder.
 
The first night of fallen temperatures
Minus 1.5 reads the thermometer.
 
Shivers and Trembles
It is that time of this year.
 
Huffs and puffs
Cartoon speech characters.

Steamy breath, clouds of vapour
Hanging over one another.
 
Hands in gloves
Scarfs hats and sweaters.

Thick coats
Hiding all that's under.
 
A funny time for sure
All grey and black.

But Christmas will soon be here.
With it's red cheer.

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That time of year

Poetry
Getting ready for winter's coming.
Final songs of reds and gold.
A warm farewell before the parting,
because soon there will be snow.
And cold.
And cold.

Leaves the colours of a rainbow.
Skies the deepest blue.
A joyous gift to hold on too,
Because soon the whites will rule.
And cold.
And cold.

Birds chirping extra sweet and loud.
Gathering in flocks,
To fly away.
Winter draws closer and closer.
And cold.
And cold.
 
Go out for long walks Anuradha.
Pay attention to change around.
Fill yourself with memories dear.
In winters long evenings,
their strength to draw.
And warmth.
And warmth.

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Homesick

Poetry
Homesickness is a funny thing 
It creeps up on you at moments odd. 

The sounds of a song 
Far away, in the background.
You listen hard, feel you catch the words 
but hear a language that's not your own. 

The sight of a tree. Full in bloom.
Yellow flowers you knew from home. 
On closer sight, they are beautiful indeed 
Just not the ones you hoped they’d be. 

Or it can be a fragrance.
Food cooking perhaps. 
Starting off forgotten hunger pangs. 
And hearing mum calling “it's lunch time”. 
but spoken only in your head. 

While with people you love 
You can talk from afar 
Close the gap that distance brings. 

But it's the love of a land. 
The things you’ve known, 
since your early childhood. 
That creep up on you 
when you are least aware. 

Catch your heart 
Till you know not where 
You stand or sit 
Or even who you are with 
And all you want is to be home again.

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