not saying much

there are certain people
who make you feel at ease
even when you share silence
in the confines of shared space

they people your silences
with their unsaid words
and oddly enough

you miss their share of silence
in your silent solitude

an orange ball in the laundry bin
and a green one in my left shoe
a little pink dolphin stuck on my remote
and a blue penguin on the kitchen cupboard

the fridge smiles like a battle scarred veteran
its face pock marked by letters
as if someone splashed
alphabet soup all over it

little giggles in my book case
and impish grins in the wardrobe
my house is invaded by
childhood

and so is my car
with the biscuit crumbs in its
un-hooverable depths
and muddy footprints on the back of my seat

as I clean up the last mess
and wait for the next
I pause to send a grateful thought
to the great beyond
for the irreversible entropy
of parenthood

perspective

Next time your computer freezes, you have a choice:

either get angry and frustrated
OR
compose a little haiku

this is my version:
'the naughty little hourglass
does cartwheels...
as my desktop meditates'

I know it isn't saying much, but it helps me get through the day...

Robots go walking in our woods

I went out last weekend
walking with him
in the woods behind our house

He started off quite keen and
full of beans, but soon lost
his fizz and wanted me
to carry him on my shoulders
little legs straddling my neck
and muddy shoes brushing against
my lapel, much
to my annoyance

We looked at the path, all covered
with ground moss and dead
leaves, all shades of yellow
as if Nature, like some home makeover
lady, had spread out pastel shade
samples on the floor
undecided as yet
about the colour of this hallway

The sunlight filtering through the branches
leaves unruly scribbles of light and shade
on the leaves scrunching underfoot -
clearly Nature is a busy mother
who like all other,
decides 'that will do'
on seeing the state
of her house

There in the tall grass he spies
a patch of blue
and points silently
we walk towards it - shiny,
pearlescent, with little grains under
the smooth  surface that
catch the light

An odd shape - what is it?
we ponder for a moment before
deciding - it must be the
kneeplate of a robot - you know
the part behind the knee,
where the leg bends?
We think that's where it came from

The robot must have been
out walking in our woods
when he sat down
in the long grass
to change his kneeplate

that made perfect sense

so we walked on

amongst the
autumn leaves
falling
in silence
all around us

Q: What do you call
the time it takes
for a leaf to fall
in the woods
behind your house
when you are out walking
with your two year old son?

A: A magic moment

I see a father in the mirror

'This is my child, he said. I wash a dead man's brains out of his hair. That is my job'
Cormac McCarthy, The Road, p77

... and so it goes, unrelenting, holding no punches, raw and honest. It was certainly one of the most harrowing books I read. And at the same time, I am glad I read it now and not before I became a father. There is a danger that you read books before their time - or rather before the time in your life for them to really talk to you, to hold you and shake you and smother you - sometimes with beauty, sometimes with pain.

It was a book that demanded and warranted respect and careful treading, a book I could only read in short bursts, for anymore was sensory overload.

Above all, it was about fatherhood, tender and brutal in equal measure, just like the real thing where someone imperfect who has not yet understood how the world works, tries to be a role model for someone innocent who looks to him for guidance, shelter and love.

in search of grace

'Every man follows his own path in search of grace, whatever that grace may be ... without our knowing whether this closes or finally opens the path or where the path may lead us ...'
Jose Saramago, Baltasar and Blimunda, p166

This resonates with me perhaps more than I expected it to, for reasons which I am trying to map out.

So bear with me.

What is grace?
Having searched the various meanings of the word, the closest I came to which would explain why it feels special in the current context is when grace means 'divine kindness'.

And why is this important? For it explains what I do and it is as if I have understood my actions, as if I have read an all important footnote which changes mere ritual into something meaningful.

Where lies grace for a generic human?

Is it in the toothless smile of a child?

Is it in the holding of a hand, delicate and loving with just the right amount of pressure to know someone cares?

Is it in the sense of achievement that comes after a long and painful wait filled with dark thoughts and desperation?

Is it in words of appreciation or recognition, words which lift you above the mundane even if transient?

Is it in the company of grief and loss punctuated by a loved one's tears?

Does grace fill those fleeting moments where one regains the innocence to believe in beauty, the courage to think with one's heart and the conviction to act for the greater good?

Perhaps grace is a place where the human becomes less generic.

'The world seems resistant but carries within it for ever the desire to be transformed into something higher'
Ben Okri, A way of being free, p6

Boys to men

He woke me up
We drove together in silence
He held my hand
As we walked into the colourful place
With kind ladies and smiling kids
We looked around in silence

When we parted company
There was a hint of sadness
- a subtle quiver of his upper lip
As he hugged me
And then moved away

I was alone

As I put on a brave face
and prepared to face the world,
I thought:
Life IS funny...

For, this was today
He is two
and I am his big and ugly father
Who felt like crying
just because it was his first day
at the nursery
and I could see that
he was trying hard not to cry
just for my sake...

The adventures of the Martian Monkey Boy

Pretty Face; PF: Where is the screwdriver?
Monkey Boy; MB: Do you want the cross or the straight?
PF: ....
MB: OK, show me what you want to use it for
PF: That thing wiggles ...
MB: Oh, that needs an Allen key
PF: Where is that, then?
MB: The Allen keys are kept in descending order of size in the little plastic box atop the tool kit, in the compartment to the left
PF: Where is the tool kit?
MB: In the garage, on the bottom shelf on the right, by the spare fabric softener
PF: OK, would you get the right size Allen key and fix this wobbly bit for me then?
MB: Deep sigh ...

Another day (not so far, far away)
MB: Where are the king size duvet covers?
PF: In the guest bedroom near the mirror
MB: I don't see a mirror in here ...?
PF: You should know I meant the window
MB: Deeper sigh ...

MB: Note to self - Venus must be a scrapyard, unlike the gleaming city blocks of Mars. And yet, why do Martians emigrate to Venus all the time?

Yesterday
I saw her after so long
her teeth in braces like a teenager
highlights in her hair

she has accrued ear piercings
with dangling silverware
growth rings? perhaps
one for each (y)ear
that passed her by

the unexplained anxiety that
had shadowed me for
a couple of days,
a build up of mental murkiness,
dissolves in the warmth of her smile

we hold hands - instinctively
and give each other a shoulder
to lean on for half a moment
(that was meant to be a hug)
two people in their thirties
behaving like excited teenagers

for,
friendship is
a true elixir
you are only as old
to your friends
as the day you first met

a long walk later
the world is put right again
I tell her
I am proud of her
and proud to be her friend

Today
after an evening
spent exchanging anecdotes
and antics of children
as she waved good bye
for a moment there is sadness
but I am happy
that she has filled a certain
friend shaped hole again
in my greying soul

I send a little thoughton
in her direction
'fare ye well
and keep your head held high
for there be heroes
who know not who they are'
(but I know one of them)

Peace

unresolved

pregnant pauses
thoughts teetering
on the edge of
unsaid whispers

memories in denial

missed chances or
narrow escapes perhaps
all a matter of perspective

what would have been
in a parallel unniverse
without her
or him
or her

perhaps freedom
or loneliness
or both

winding though the road we walk
many are those that we never tread
why then does the unbridled mind
trespass up on these uncharted paths?

trading places

a little thing really
not enough to call it an incident
at work last week

got up to call
the next patient in
constantly aware of the tick
of the clock of competence and
efficiency, omniscient
and unforgiving

he came in with the easy stride
of those who age gracefully
and sat down in my chair
not knowing, of course
that there were rules
unwritten but observed, nonetheless

I did not feel
particularly inclined
to trade places
he looked so comfortable
easing back in his (my?) chair
gently leaning on my jacket

I carried on as if
this is how things have always been
but could not help wondering
why my (his?) chair
did not feel as comfortable

We talk about modern medicine
with its non-paternalistic care
but still provide the patient
with a less comfortable chair!

My magic shoulder

Three heads
of varying sizes
and some with attitude
find a roost on my shoulder

and yet
they all seem to fit
perfectly

Wow!
I must have
a magic shoulder...

planning ahead

We were out driving one evening
dark, cold, typical 'summer' in Liverpool
I accelerate as the light turns green
and signal right

Suddenly, she screams
pointing frantically ahead of us
and reaches across to me
with both arms

In the split second that follows
I hover on the threshold of panic
And then ask her crossly
'Are you mad?!'

She calms down
and apologises
She thought we were in the wrong lane
heading towards oncoming traffic
and she panicked

I huff and puff
grumble about female drivers
about backseat drivers
about the female brain
and as I fume
She says
in a quiet voice

'I have always had this plan in my head...
if we were travelling together
and if we were about to hit something
I would reach across to you
and hold your head in both my hands
and never let go'

I sat there saying nothing
for I had not ever made
any such plans

Later that night
I think I cried in my sleep

This blew me away!

Set sail and smile, wave good bye

God·speed
n.
Success or good fortune.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[From Middle English God spede (you), may God prosper (you) : God, god; see god + spede, third person sing. present subjunctive of speden, to prosper (from Old English spedan, from sped, success; see speed).]

slideshow

tattooed ...
on the back of my eyelids

slide 1
her eyes send a smile
weaving past strands of
hair - highlights an' all, tossed
back without a care
- finds me, greets me
like a little
school boy, her
little school boy

slide 2
slim ankles play hide and seek
with the duvet as a
slender
finger traces patterns
on my nose which
wrinkles and shies away
like forget me nots

slide 3

sleepy morning - I clutch in vain

at wisps of gossamer dreams -

suddenly calm spreads

a kiss alights

gently on my forehead

or perhaps

another intangible strand of

unravelled dreamscape

slide 4
a song, a song, my
heart swells up in
angst of days gone by and
youth blown away
but then her face
breaks surface and smiles
at me from the inside

... immaculate

indelible ...

... incandescent

Radhika M Krishnan

Sound track: No man will ever love you ...
Artist: Raghu Dixit
Album: Antaragni