Islander in the City | Pablo A. Tariman:


I am actually

Looking forward

To a quiet yearend

In the garden


But suddenly

You will be airlifted

To a strange island

With manicured

Patch of green

And a long stretch of



Where have all

The good years gone?


They all belong to the past


The sunrises and sunsets

Of your youth


Merry making

No longer makes sense

Too late in the day

For the gourmand

You aspired to be

But ending up

A hopeless islander

Happy eating with bare hands

Contemplating favorite

Homegrown delicacies

Of your past


You have sudden distaste

For noise

And bravado

& mindless merrymaking


The silence

Of your room


You gingerly

Touch the gifts

Coming one after another

And remember friends

With bottomless supply

Of kindness

You cannot repay


What’s with

Counting the years?


You only hear

Laughter of your grandchildren

They who bring back

The innocent child

You used to be


You yearn for the island

This time different

Because the granddaughter

Is just a room away

In a strange white beach

With beautiful people

Living up

To various status

You have no desire

To match


This is the way

I want to remember

The month of my birth


Quiet by the sea

And looking after

A grandchild

You have not seen

For years



To live

A few good years


Just waiting

For my daughter’s smile

To bring me back

Where I belong

In a place

Where status

Doesn’t matter

And all we have

Is an instinct

To care

To nourish

Enjoy moments

You cannot define



Eternity is all

In your granddaughter’s




And beautiful


Happy New Year!


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