sunset at Pratapgarh fort

the lone bird streaked across the sky,
the last desperate fling of a tamed sun
sinking slowly from the scene of struggle,
behind the mountains.
beyond the horizon
Pratapgarh glowed in a strange hue
its open wounds and battle scars
bathed in the red and yellow glory
defying the sun to try again.

I worried about the objective correlative
when you took my hand in yours
and then I understood.

(I am sentimental about this verse written in Mahabaleshwar in early 1972.)

On the Controversial death of Ernest Hemingway

(I like this poem written by me in late 1975.)

he said
man can be destroyed
but not defeated

and when he grew old
when words and even thew world
became to him very cold
still he went to sea
and don't you remember 
how he brought back the bone

i wonder
was it the same old man
who put the gun in his mouth
and shattered himself to death

that gun
is trying to tell me something

may be destruction implies defeat
but does death -
i mean this kind of death
- imply destruction