ISMAIL'S POEMS -- Moonrise in a Bucket

OLD HOUSE

Our house turned old
Wanted to pull it down to build anew
I too turned old
Could someone pull me down
To build me anew.



BEING LATE

Night
Annoyed being late
In reaching home
The moon rose on the way
Now
Being late doesn’t bother.


BABY CLOUD

Don’t come on my way
None can stop me
Myriad ways in the sky
I roam my own way.

I am rootless
Could bloom anywhere
I am namless
I turn my form
Time and again .

Now time to go
While on return
Call in on you in disguise
You can’t recognize me.

MOTHER, BABY

The moon is swinging
On the shoulder of tree
Showering smiles
In between shoots
How merrily are they playing
Mother and baby!

BABY’S SMILE

Laughing the baby
After playing in the dust
Dust over entire body
Not on her laughter.

WASHING SLAB

Bowed on my knees
For you under sky,
Come, beat me,
Since I like punishment.
Not merely dirt of your clothes
But also of your lives
Get rid of it on my back.
Come, beat on my inert life
Your lives.
Let us unite
To cleanse pollution.

DESTINY

Drifting a baby cloud in the sky
Its destiny unknown.
Drifting an empty boat on the river
Its destiny unknown
Roaminig a donkey on the road
Its destiny unknown.
What’s about me?