Monday, October 8, 2012


A large Mango tree
That has a name
“Grandma's tree”
In every rainy season 
She would blossom,
My Aunty was so happy 
In preparing delicious pickle 
Using its tender fruits.
As soon as it began to ripen
I always prayed a breeze to come 
The cooling area beneath it was 
Venue of playing for kids 
But when my grandpa died
The elders in my family decided
To cut my Grandma’s tree 
As the firewood 
For burying his body .
Though I was a kid 
I embraced it in my tiny hands 
And cried so long 
Till I fell into sleep 
But I could save my ‘’grandma’s tree”
Still it is here, though rotten.


Haiku #22 (Life)

  in  the prison of time , a  prince of dreams  ; handcuffed with fate