When I heard at the Close of the Day By Walt Whitman

When I heard at the close of the day how I had
been praised in the Capitol, still it was not
a happy night for me that followed,
And else when I caroused – nor when my favorite plans were
accomplished – was I really happy,
But the day when I arose at dawn from the perfect
health, electric, inhaling sweet breath
When I saw the full moon in the west grow pale and
disappear in the morning light,
When I wandered alone over the beach, and undressing, bathed,
laughing with the waters, and saw the sun rise,
And when I thought how my friend, my lover, was on
his way coming, then O I was happy,
Each breath tasted sweeter – and all that day my food
nourished me more – and the beautiful day passed well,
And the next came with equal joy – and with the next,
at evening, came my friend,
And that night while all was still I heard the waters roll
slowly continually up the shores,
I heard the hissing rustle of the liquid and sands, as directed
to me, whispering to congratulate me,
For the friend I love lay sleeping by my side,
In the stillness his face was inclined toward me, while the
moon's clear beams shone
And his arm lay lightly over my breast – and that night I was happy.

“Dubious” by Vikram Seth

Some men like Jack and some like Jill
I'm glad I like them both but still
I wonder if this freewheeling
Really is an enlightened thing,
Or is its greater scope a sign
Of deviance from some party line?
In the strict ranks of Gay and Straight
What is my status: Stray? Or Great?

Letter to my Mom!

To my dearest Moma,

I know you were never good in English,
But now you have to understand my words,
The words that never got a voice,
the feelings buried in my lies.

Over roasted toasts,
Or sugarless tea.
You appreciated everything,
When "I" was the cook.
Slight dark toasts,
Or less sweeter tea,
I left them there as it is,
When "you" were the cook!

I thought I am the best "son",
And I expected the Best "Mom",
You knew I am not the best son,
Still you tried being the Best mom.

It’s not about those teas or toasts,
It’s not about being best or worst.
It may be out of all my irritation,
That why didn’t you unmask my allegation?

I thought one day,
You will ask me,
“Are you in love?”
I thought one day,
You will realize that,
I am in love.

My thoughts never stopped there,
And expected one day,
You to question me,
“Is he your man?”

Since in twenty two years the day never came,
And now I really can’t play this pretence game.

Your son,
Karan

Reviewed by The Forth Dimension