Adolescence by sashi prabhu

Adolescence by sashi prabhu

i know now

i know now

An hour at Palolem Sands GOA.

6^th-8^th November 2011

Location (Palolem Guest House & Hi-Tide Shack)

By Sashi.Prabhu (ZEAUOXIAN)

A near I glimpse the tidal waves, rise high,

Sweaty brows drip on the face, a dry.

My tender soles they trod the fiery sand,

Salt stained draft, it kissed moist lips on my face tanned.

The sunbathers, surfers and wading beach walkers they cluster,

The sands of the beach, without whom the trade here lacks luster.

The mousy shacks they, lie in garland about the beach mouth,

The water sports boys they peddle their drills further down south.

The surf board freaks and the water dipper are so many,

The dolphin rides the touts could coerce you for just a few penny.

The red vested lifeguards are always on their toes,

A breath of relief, as the tippling tourists, their number grows.

Either rocky edge so grand they seem,

Looks like some image straight out of my dream.

The ripples, sounds a melody repeat,

The artisan, tests his skilled percussion cask to a beat.

The guitarist dipper strums on the gat,

It’s fun for us in the shack as we sat.

The artisan jams to the strumming note,

The sale of his percussion he wishes to promote.

A robe draped lass, she captures her lover,

The sun, its rays darkens the picture as above it hover.

Reshoot does she, from another angle,

A smiling lover’s flushed face she manages to wrangle.

The hi-tide shack it’s perched a high,

The view is great and the breeze ,it zips by.

The distant travelers they bathe in the sun,

Some on the sand , others  swelter drip their as they run.

  Balding head darts, it reflects its gleam,

Of the scorching sun and the skin cream.

The peddling tribal woman with an orange drape,

A family cuddling a little one, the sun to escape.

A young woman, alone she walks,

A stray young man I think he stalks.

The tattoo on his arm seem so strong,

They are lovers I see and I know I am wrong.

The flower power oldie, he walks with his guitar strung  back,

A bag in his hand and stuff he puts aside on the beach rack.

Beside them a hulk walks by, in nickered blacks,

To the percussion maker’s shack we can see his sandy tracks.

A bikini clad lady, she dart towards a fella,

The blueness in her robe shades her name tattooed, Isabella.

A chat they seem to have and away he’s gone,

She kicks some sand and wades back to her beach chair all alone.

Past noon it’s time and ebbing are the tides,

The dippers galore and we can see them lying by the watery sides.

The eagle sweeps down and glides a close,

The chasing birds they are but a murder of black crows.

The tall blond man ducks on the water he ambles,

With a bulging tummy we see it rumbles.

The thatched roof stays the sunlight on me,

The blue clothed ceiling textures the sky and the sea.

The dark Indian lass, aglow on her face,

The heat rays redden her skin ablaze.

Hurriedly she moves to the thatched shack.

Her lover here rubs lotion on to her back.

Cattle herds , see them stroll the sandy water,

An English couple walks away from the boat with their daughter.

Beneath the beach umbrella a man cleans his shades,

The strong breeze its trapped around him under the glades.

An hour has gone by and my throat is all dry,

Sparkling water I gulp down the bottle with the blink of an eye.

Content is my heart for this poem I create,

Good or  bad , you can choose to debate.

Forlorn

7^th November,ponda

By Sashi. Prabhu (ZEAUOXIAN)

As dawn it roosts, to the early lids of my opened eyes,

Never ever has been a happy feeling pleasant comprise.

Quinquennium back I can clearly remember,

The morning’s plea scalds my thoughts like burning ember.

My blanket festooned body, on the bed it stirs & moves,

The immensity of my drumming head, ever hopes it improves.

Rise as I to the early morn’s sunshine,

 Try to smile and reminiscent, it’s surely futile to whine.

And so I sooth my dreary mind,

Impel the mind to elude dismal thoughts & unwind.

Alas! I’m timorous, those dull & dismal thoughts befall,

My mind ,now I know I need to overhaul.

To edify my mind I have to seek,

Muse must I, think ponder reflect every day of the week.

Tall happy positive thoughts I must now contemplate,

For these are those that will bring me peace and joy once they ruminate

When I close my eyes to tardy nites,

Am gonna be happy at morn the thought itself excites.

A long dark shadow of doubt it always looms,

It’s foggy dawn and my dull thoughts they resume.

From dawn to dusk I carry on a low,

Pessimistic spirits, they make me slow.

Explicit thoughts are sought desired,

A sound body and mind are always admired.

Forlorn, behold it in my mind’s eyes,

Set tone the work ambience my passions cries,

Throttled are my dreams, dismayed are my desire,

And Brutus knife it’s uncouth edge stabs the back in holy attire.

In a Quinquennium span, and time it ran,

But my spirit at first light is like a weary man,

Now I cognize to him his destiny a bloom,

And to me my destiny untwined from his , so not to doom.

Must alter my retort to suit me fine,

And joyous days will transcend me to cloud nine.

Aghast I am for I have lost,

The crusade within me and am weary exhaust.

Forlorn I am to the day’s time,

Often mull are they my thoughts, that are all slime.

Forlorn I am to the nite’s time,

I know it’s time to clean up my heart’s grime.

Forlorn it will be till I inversely think,

From insanity, I’m now on its brink.

Forlorn ,I want to say good bye,

For many eons before I die.

                                                             

An accolade to Palolem Guest House.

6^th November (Palolem)

By Sashi .Prabhu  (ZEAUOXIAN)

Twas dusk and terse thoughts in my head they came,

So brawny and piquant thoughts of the beach were beacon aflame.

 Spent rains are deplete and the sun shines bright,

Sandy seas and the cool salty breeze delight.

To Palolem them thoughts they yelled in unison in my head,

A cozy place sojourn I had to book ahead.

An old friend of mine, an inn he had,

110 steps away from the beachy sands and we were so glad.

Called him on his cell as sundown’s red alit,

 A place for the nite and coziness a bit.

In a jiffy did he rooms reserve,

From home we headed to Palolem Guest House for fun on the week end we deserve.

The winding roads and the traffic lines serpentine,

Father time was running and we reached to drink and dine.

The rustic settings of the inn we loved,

By the grace and the warmth we were wowed.

The quaint humble entrance was clean and neat,

Reception set to comfort the traveler or tourist their needs to meet.

The orderly stone pathways through the gardens at every nook,

The broad glazy steps to our rooms they took.

The gardens overflow with trees, plants and grass,

The restaurant is fenced with flowering plants a mass.

There are teak, banana and coconut trees,

And many more decorative and flowering plants that sway in the light breeze.

The cuisine, it tackles the taste buds of all,

From table to table we can hear them, the waiter they call.

The panorama’s grand and the faces are a smile,

People visit here for the ambience too, from many a mile.

I am happy to have been at this place so nice,

It’s a treat to be here at every sunrise.

And many more trips to Palolem Guest House I know,

I will be taking and next time I’ll leave real slow.

I now know this place so humble,

A great getaway from the din and the rumble.

Ahead I look to my next trip here,

Will pack my car and move hear with my Dear.

BARD’S WORDS

BARD’S WORDS

Slept and slumbered under the quinine stains we wept,

On a poignant bard’s weary nib we slept.

Yearned we to spill  on to paper,

Him caged sore thoughts for later.

Weeping words we lay folded,

On table, heart moulded.

Sorrowed dirge lament,

We repent,

dissent.

An accolade to Mickey’s

30^th October 2011,colva

By Sashi.Prabhu(ZEAUOXIAN).

Old weary & weaving roads to Colva it made me take,

To Mickey’s I was heading after a long break.

The monsoon rains & the heady winds,

Shut down the joint , but the ambiance it reminds.

Opened this joint to yester’s morn,

For the native, traveler or tourist afore he moved on.

Warm is the vibe & cool is the breeze,

The gamut so delicious , are cooked a wee bit of grease.

The thatched rays ,they creep into the woven roof,

The tables are spread out for space aloof.

The people are warm and the ale is cold,

And the clustered guest they are young & old.

As dusk sets in , more soothing the breeze,

The hotelier, he must stuff more beers into his deep freeze.

As twilight sets and the lights come on,

With the heat & dust , its all gone.

The gentle breeze now fills his hall,

As night descends, it’s fun for all.

The lights are dim but the vista is great,

The menu’s lines they wish to be on your plate.

The moon is up and the stary sky deplete,

In walks my girl for me to meet.

The feast was great & precious time spent,

Mickey’s to remember it’s meant.