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Perhaps on an idle afternoon
when sadness lies heavy on chest
your eyes shimmering like crystal moon
upon my poems would come to rest.


Words of love and touching her shore
yearnings sharp as edge of knife
wrote my mind of twenty four
gathering all from a half seen life.

You flip the pages as years roll down
reach to where past high tides sailed
the ink flows soft as calm of dawn
in peace of void when heights are scaled.

You close the book breathing a sigh
your eyes are wet of misty dew
by then fallen twilight asks you why
the poet on the cover looks like you.
Some people I know
I meet in the marketplace,
Greet them with Hi and a little bow,
As courtesy shown to a known face,
No further the relation can go!
I never care to know them more
They’re just known passersby,
To them I never open my door
Nor to build friendship I try!
Some people I know
I meet on the way,
Throw a brief smile at them,
That’s so far as it can go,
I don’t care to know their name!
Fellow travelers on a passing ship
I wish I could know them more
Their thoughts that lie hidden deep
Like waiting rains yearning to pour!
If we could take it a little more
To bridge the yawning distance,
Opened up to each other our hearts’ door
To give friendship a chance,
I could find from them some true gem
That it would be a loss not to know,
But I never care to know their name,
The familiar faces I greet with a bow!
Most of the people hate isolation
only a few taking it as blessing
and such is the one I'm talking about.

What if the familiar have shunned me,
he would say, the world is now mine,
to the strangers I bare my heart,
as they do to me, a complete stranger,
in the once and possibly the only meet
between people otherwise divided
exchanging thoughts and contacts
sure no call would ever follow
but happy in the chance encounter.

He thus meets a melange of people,
the man whose wife fled with her lover,
the woman whose husband deserted her
but she still wears red in his name,
the son abandoned in childhood
the old woman disowned by son.

He takes all their sadness into him
and feels his own greatly diminished
thankful that fate hasn't been as harsh
or how he would have coped with
the misfortunes that befelled those strangers.

He bows his head, for in the isolation,
he knew how it hurts to be deprived of
what was obviously legitimate.
I have never seen her the way
saw her the first day.*

she was the prettiest from far
when the beauty of her
was in dream discovered!

she was the sweetest of song
when she first came along
my heart went ding ****!

she wasn't just a pretty face
but a fountain of grace
my happiest address!

but the days soon wore
in insane explore
she was new no more!

seen it from morn
her splendor was shorn
she turned a monotone!

i found many a flaw
her plume was of daw
by proximity's law!
On the bend the rosy face
And I've grown so old
The ponytail the flowered lace
Once ends it's never retold.
A moment's fullness of the dewy lip
And I've grown so old
The hazelnut eyes quick n deep
Once and forever was I sold.
In the air the silken hand
And I've grown so old
A touch that dreamed to land
Would not land was foretold.
Night's end a touch on forehead
And I've grown so old
Always knew it was dream-made
Fantasies the passing years rolled.
Over the ebbing tide of noise
Falls the hush from the sky,
A crimson farewell to the day
Paints a melancholy in the air,
One last flutter the wings come to rest
Waiting for starlight to warm the nest…
Looking back, so hollow the bygone times ring,
As quietly sets in another evening.
Moon
Though higher up
Often her
Clouds gobble up.
No verbal duel
No war of words
I prefer to be a poet.
In freedom I dwell
Free as the birds
Poetry is my fate.
All those passion fueled stroke
that go up in smoke!
do they?
From gone by years remembered in tears a tale more sweet than sad
Of a stealthy game that brought no shame played by a son with his dad
It's still a secret not told to this date he keeps to his breast the son
Still haunts his thought if he was caught by his dad long since gone.

The dad was old had a heart of gold used to spend money his own
Deemed it fair as long as there wouldn't be a burden on his son
He lived on pension but felt no tension in his frequent buying spree
Got whatever caught his whim’s fancy gifted them to the family.

We don't need as such why spend so much the son would remonstrate
Your extravagance has spoiled all chance for any savings till date
At this age on life's last page I need to spend the last dime
Live in rapport with warmth of comfort till I exhaust my time.


When failed all logic performed one trick the son played out a farce
Many times not once whenever got chance secretly filled up dad's purse
The old man went on to buy for his son ignoring his advice of thrift
The son on his part did what said his heart boosted the old one's spirit.

It was summer was time to go home, the dad took leave of his son
For all the nine months he stayed in the hills lived a monk’s life alone
A few days later over a phone call the dad spoke son when I count
I find in my purse what I carried intact in fact a little more amount.


The son feigned surprise deemed it wise the truth not be told
Lest he came apart his pride felt hurt the man with the heart of gold
He said in humor’s voice it’s cause for rejoice that money spent is grown
To this day the son guards the truth alone never making what happened be known.
Hope you had a good night’s sleep Faye
He coos holding the cup to her lip
Nice isn’t it the morn’s first sip
And be ready for a lovely day!

By the way sweetie I had a good sleep
Long, dreamless, deep
If I don’t count that recurring nightmare
You’re sitting broken on your favorite chair!

Can’t stand to see you broken that way
From me you ever being taken away
And one morn here I’m alone to weep
Not holding a cup to Faye’s lip!

You know sweetie I meant it true
When I said would die without you
For you my love is so deep grown
I see it mirrored in the rusted bone!*

Faye’s eyes don’t move a blink
His words in her quietly sink
There’s a thrill in her timeworn bone
That her man would never have tea alone.
God for me provokes the fear of sin
Do I incur his wrath if commit a wrong
Like telling lies or being mean
The fear troubles me all along!

Is he watching all deeds of mine
Keeping notes in his divine diary
If I’m grumpy or genuinely benign
Would move him to decide the key!

If at the pearly gate awaits me heaven
Or god decides the key for hell
He would surely get with me even
If tilts my vice’s scale!

But I admit this fear has one good side
It instills some ponder and brood
If god’s eyes are really opened wide
For heaven’s sake should do some good!
As the winds break into small feathered kisses
and idly burden the heart this May day
I lament for all the long withered wishes
once whose petals bloomed on my way.

A begone time love feeling unfailingly true
a touch that left a long hovering trail
on the probing soul fertile they grew
before cruel days wore them frail.

Aspirations soared on sun blazed wings
they had to be have on awakened nights
the innocent's hunts for the most precious things
haloed in passions of untamable sights.

On feathered winds were they drifted and gone
notions of love and visions to build high
but by their fire made me a man
leaving imprints as the years went by.
I hadn't expected someone there
already before me.

Only lonely men come here
I heard him through my heavy breath
lonely with nothing and everything.

Down there was the sea rumbling faintly
with the froths painting themselves on the shore
like a sketch in a child's drawing book.

Height does amazing tricks, the man continued,
makes you feel invincible
stimulates you to be ****** into gravity
to fall as light as the feather.


The dusk was wrapping up the light
when I remembered having promised her
not to be late to descend.

There's a man up there, I told the gateman,
Nope, he said,
you were the only guest this evening.
His head kept bumping on my shoulder
and he was not my father
or anyone I knew

he smelled as if a bath was overdue
and slept like wasn't a place better
than the ***** briefness of my shoulder.

Breaking down was my brittle patience
needled by his bristled cheek
brushed by his shabby dress,

was for rest the man hard pressed?

Wouldn't I have been nudged by pride
if the head on my shoulder was my father
happy to have him by my side?

as he gets older
does his blurry mind miss
a place where he is not alone

one or any shoulder
for an untimely nap in peace
a quiet stranger to rest upon?
A bus ride in the heat, Mar 15, 2018, 2pm
Her feet rose and fell
between fields of paddy

the grass bowed
then looked up on her way.

If only she had wings
and the winds carried her to her sister
she could land right on the yard of her hut
and take her home by the return flight
but her mind soared no less
so before the sun favored the west
she was right by her
laughing and talking like the yore
with only a line of vermilion
that she felt had come between them.

Soon she looked around
and making sure no one was watching
brought out from her skirt a mango.

She gave it to her like
she was giving a piece of her heart
plump yellow green
with the most delicious nectar hidden within
and when she narrowed her lips
to drink from the gift
her tears poured like the summer rain
mingling with the cries of the parched earth.
Knolls of potatoes glow like gold
spreading the shine of good harvest
fading in the dark of her eyes.

The bounty is a curse on her purse
for as long as she recalls
market grows slow
prices rule low
abundance eats away the toil.

Yet so long her breathes willed
she would come back to the field
feeding herself away
to the soil.
Feb 26, 2017, 12.30 pm.
A hundred bucks I gave her

She was not selling herself

She asked it for help

His man drunk too much

With life he paid

He has left me a beggar

She lamented

Starting with the cost of his last rites

My days will now be an endless fight


A hundred bucks I gave her

And closed the door

She wasn’t in my thought anymore

Till last night in the dim moon’s glow

I caught two moving shadows

Of her with another man, a stranger.

As her laughter rippled the night

I nodded.

She wouldn’t give up without a fight.
You could have stayed back in the sun.
But you sail in the stormy ocean
You brave the cold nights
While the fire burns out in the hearth
You dive deep and climb high
Never choosing the calm, not afraid to die!
You could have stayed back in the sun
Enjoying peace and the mundane fun
But you choose the flower's thorn
You grab the bull by the horn,
You know you have to overcome and win
The battle against the enemy within!
The wrinkled hands
Bear not the slightest hint
They ever grabbed the golden orb.
Age mockingly hides
This body ever rose with the tides.
Now before the eyes
A swirling mist
Waits for the final tryst!
They went inside the temple to worship
some ran in for shelter

when the clouds parted

*I drenched myself in the rain.
at a temple this afternoon when gathered the dark clouds.
As he so thinly and lightly floated up
He saw a ****** mess crowded around.

He understood and not bothering his weightlessness

Thought I must now find my way home.

Over the mesh of cables and wires
Above the teeming dots of men and machines
He skimmed the noiseless air beyond pain.

Now I know they spoke of what gain.

Once found he thought of landing on the roof
Melt through the attic door and be right beside her
But he didn’t want to give her a scare.

He would rather take the front door.

He held to the belief he needed no mirror.

It proved right as she was just mildly surprised.

He wished he could hold her hand and say

I’m back early for you today.

But there was so little time for the frivolousness

And supposing he wouldn’t be there the next instance

Started to speak.

I came back just to tell how much I love you.

She responded in a beaming radiant face

This is madness

To have come back for what I always knew


And then as he lifted her in a demonic strength

Giggled I love you too.

When she rose to silence the phone’s ring

She didn’t see him take wing

To go home in the wind’s flow!
dishevelled hair
unkempt beard
he stood under the tree
away from his herd

he gave a weary yawn
like a frog
snapping open and shut its mouth
without the prey in

he looked a bundle of lost chance
to the point
living seemed a voidful horror

I carried him in my mind

*carry him in my mirror
The scent of pollen
Draws it nigh
The butterfly
Needn't fly high!
It needn't go far
Nor mind the briar
To draw nectar
From the yearning flower!
I learned it from butterfly
All I ought to find lie
So near me
I only have to see!
when we see ourselves
as being here
to comfort others.
I don't aspire
to be immune from fire,
only hope my resilience
withstands the burn's pains!
Spins around my head
Nature’s LED
A firefly,
Hits the fan
Now it can
Make the sky.
There was a handmade cake on my table
and a letter with immature hand:

I start with this
but know that
whenever and wherever I bake a cake
you'll be in my mind.


It tasted not that sweet
I remember
and she was never to make another
in my corners of bitter December.

I have no other Christmas memory.

There couldn't be.
In remembrance of a girl who could not be a woman, but was almost, as God withdrew the angel too soon.
Interwoven with my Christmas memory.
being the topper in the class, he developed certain pride
that the envious derided, ignored flatterers on his side.

the first bench was his permanent place
from where shone his haloed face
when the teachers spoke seemed it thus
there was only him in the whole class.

all questions he took the answers he knew
solved hardest sums others had no clue
not once an intruder could invade his space
he shined in glory of his flawlessness.

from him was never unfinished homework
ruthlessly made on exams his mark
was taken for granted he would win first place
the rest of the herd would just run the race.

the teachers indulged him the pride of the class
but you know all fame are fragile like glass
it so happened a new teacher joined the school
unbiased he was not to blindly toe the rule.

he asked the first boy if he had ever flown a kite
played marbles on road picked up a fight
if ever he had walked barefooted on the grass
stole a look at sky bunked even one class.

if he had ever chosen to close the book
hid him alone in the scariest of nook
scanned the horizon to catch first moonrise
counted the stars bamboo grove's fireflies.

he looked nonplussed didn't utter a word
anything than studies he hardly bothered
had he answered it would all have been *no

to him most precious was his place at front row.

he bowed his head down with ashen face
for the first time in class he failed to impress
what happened next was no riddle to guess
that teacher was gone without a trace.
Good boys sit on the first row
They do ma said as a rule
So with the call of the first crow
I was ready to leave for the school.

Just as I reached the clock struck six
From home it was quite some ride
What I found there threw me in a fix
The first bench was fully occupied!

Four sat already on the front row
With no more a space for the fifth
My jostles raised the others’ eyebrows
They won’t let me have it as a gift!

I pushed with all might the boy on the side
But he wasn’t the one to let go
I feel a little shame when to you I confide
He gave me a hard ****** blow!

But a good boy as me must have rightful place
One on the first bench as a right
I wasn’t going to settle for anything less
Even if that meant a ****** fight!

The second jab fell right on my nose
Blood spurted warm red on my shirt
That settled it brought the war to a close
The loss made a dent in my heart!

The last bench was empty with only one guy
He sat happily looking peaceful
I knew being good wasn’t worth enough to die
And that was my first lesson at school!
First love forever lasts.
Cinders from the past
Gather fire from the cold
In your heart light a spark.
First love forever lasts.
In your eyes it alights
In the middle of the nights
Turns a drop of tear.
First love forever lasts.
When you get up in the morn
You see it appear
In renewal’s attire.
Don’t remember her face but visits me often.
See what comes of your life's toil
woke me up an eerie nasal voice
she reeked of putrid soil
her look was no rejoice.

I wondered being at that forlorn place
with two dark holes peering at me
smelling of varnished wood
and eyes watery.

The air smelled of wild moss
under a sky pallid grey
shadows rose from the silent cross
where I too dreadfully lay.

you needn't lie down anymore
her voice betrayed a mirth
now that you're thru this door
cleanse yourself with a bath.

Two holes held me in their stare
rise man there's nothing to fear
once you wash your earthly tears
can write your first poem here.
on my nose
a cold pin *****
I wonder what's the reason

cloud tiptoes
part and leak
falls first rain of the season!
By the end of winter
hind the canopy of leaves
they build a chaotic nest.

She sits meditative
he stands watchful
and once only my eyes could intrude
four bluish white nuggets.

When in the first winds of summer
dance the mango buds
small wings would ache
not to fly beyond mother's love.

But she knows no time to waste
so they too on the next winter
gather twigs for a nest.
I didn't see her for three days

then she was back
but her color was not

where her hair parted
was starkly arid
on her forehead
wasn't the dot of red
and her saree was bleached white

yet nothing was amiss
she intently scaled the fishes
cut them neatly into pieces
though a piece of her went missing

She knows well
for no price
can she stop the sale.
Her mind strays as she cuts into pieces
her spread of the morning's fish
fills an ache him she misses
couldn't hold him back her wish.

They crowd around bidding the price
till noon would last the bargain
she spoons fish scales cuts neat slice
in between remembers her pain.

What wasn't in her that he found elsewhere
so he left to never come back
what she lacked that he held so dear
one mystery she never could crack.

They haggle with her for hard bargain
she must have her day's profit
silently stings the long held pain
him still she misses every bit.
I know what time it is
At your place five past three
Night’s thinning for goodbye kiss
You are sunk in poetry!

Moon seeks recline to west
Stars are craving dawn of sun
Yet your mind hasn’t found rest
Chasing words on the free run!

Go to sleep angel tarry not
Before the fire burns you whole
For the coming day spare a thought
Close eyes till the night is coal!

You need to stop before hours grow small
Birds wake up in dewy rain
Rest my angel can’t catch them all
Your poems of joy and pain!
The city is in flame.
Spring has set the streets on fire.
The walkways are glowing red.
Like the forbidden, the indifferent passersby
Stamp on them.
Under busy feet, littered on the concrete,
The raging fire paints the city wild.
They fall noiselessly on your path,
Giving you all and hoping nothing in return.
If you are not moved, trample them not, lest
They turn away not to be back again,
Flames of the forest!
There’s a man on the ice-cream van.
Choices galore, one can’t want more,
vanilla, strawberry, chocolate…
But on the hot day his fate
is to lie in stupor,
he can’t have one!
The poor man is sleeping on his ice-cream van.
Though dazed with the heat
he can’t retreat
with a cup or a bar,
He sells the cold
all pieces must be sold
he mustn’t have one!
The guy dreams on the ice-cream van.
Flavors galore, as he opens the door,
vanilla, strawberry, chocolate…
He mustn’t lust
must overcome thirst
let others have fun,
he mustn’t even have one!
He waited breathless
In the darkness
That sliced his body
Into million sparks.
The world spun
For invading touches
That could have been
Her kisses,
The stars shone
That could as well
Be the gleams in her eyes,
The wind smelled
Fragrance of flowers
That would soon wilt.
He got up to go,
A resolute man,
Blindly fearless,
For hunting out prey
That could never be his.
From his tiny place
He steps into a larger space.

Tells his face
He finds it nice
The blinding slice!

In that luminous relief
Of smoked glass and concrete
Is confirmed his belief

Freedom is sweet

Even an illusory one!

Before he’s back to the night
He must bite as much of it.

Must harvest to the full that walled flight
Store every bit of it

And never let that brief dreamy light

Go out of sight.
When love reaches its zenith
lovers indulge in pillow fight!
what's there to write about
a floor scrubber?

in the sun on my shoulder
its light plastic touch
polythene wrapper
gaily fluttering in the wind
breathing its last light of freedom
before consigned to lifelong prison
standing damp dreaming to dry
but for that fleeting time
it rests on my shoulder
comforted on flesh and bone
on the brief journey
from the shop to a nook
enjoying the glances of passerby
curious my carrying it
a hint of boast in my gait
flaunting as if a magic wand
the floor scrubber transient yet eternal
a glorious poem material
a poem name
and a man's declaration

there's no shame
doing your work
your way
.
a sad poem for my dinner
one gloomy for day meal
my smiles are getting thinner
dying my living will.

give me some fun write
am crying all the while
break me if you might
break me into smile.

a dark poem for my dinner
a crier for breakfast
my joys are getting thinner
sunshine is into rust.

make me one a fun read
a sparkler jolly bright
so joyous tears quickly roll
blur words from eyesight.
Amid the drumbeats and chants of hymns,
Burned bright the gaily cruel festive light,
It pounced on her like the darkest of dreams,
The blazing illumination blinded her sight.
She knew as soon as sense dawned on her
That she belonged to an endless darkness
From where would torment like a distant star
The glittering world she could never embrace.
Yet a craving burrowed her child's heart
To dance to drumbeats and chanting hymns,
Mingle with the light and become a part
Of the illumined world and forbidden dreams!
From the walls
photos of long dead
stare at you.

In the old house
the living keeps space
to hang a frame
with his name.
On a visit to a centuries old royal house, March 9, 2024
The house resounds with mirth
There isn’t a nook left unlit
Death celebrated like a birth
Making separation look not un-sweet!

And this is what he had to say
In the style of a prophetic foretell
When I die I’ll be mourned for the day
Next day will be a memory on the wall!


To his credit he spoke what is right
One death is just a person less
He’s gone and not even fortnight
The house is back to beaming face!

It’s the right way to mourn the dead
By those who held him close to heart
Realizing life has to go on instead
Of stopping for the ones death do part!
Summer heat burnt
raised eyebrow
there’s no water
says the roof’s crow.

Filled are the ponds
dried weeded
forgotten bonds
pleas unheeded.

Everywhere searched
not a drop to drink
feeble throat parched
on the death’s brink.

Pleads the crow begs
I cannot wait
with little eggs
waits my mate.

Weeps my soul
don’t stand aloof
keep a small bowl
water on roof.
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