Rajesh K. Jha
Ocean
Standing on the shore
I think
Is it the end of the journey
or I am set to begin?
Father
On your last day,
you told me over phone,
I am fine, carry on with your plan.
I did.
What about you?
Silt
Silt of memories
is fertilised by the tiny seeds of imagination,
there grows some bastard underneath.
Memory-imagination-Imagination-Memory,
never mind, take your pick,
we are all bastards.
55-25
I feel guilty at 55,
imagining to live my 25,
but 25 never leaves,
it keeps kicking no matter 55, 56 or 59
like a naughty child in mother’s womb.
Balloons
Balloons are lovely,
soft and light, colourful and resplendent,
When they explode,
my heart skips a beat.
Life is precious.
Hyphen 
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