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Oct 2016 · 463
dance night
Snehith Kumbla Oct 2016
round
dizzy
breezy
sweaty
swirl

blast
roar
thump
beats
gong

the
heart

clasp
sway
kiss
hug
snug

one
and
apart

one
and
apart
Snehith Kumbla Oct 2016
the pigeon has not
just lain two eggs,

it has lain the
promise of flight,
pairs will take off,
float and land
with adroit skill,
feverishly mate
to fast-flapping
feathers, curve
an avian circle...

now if I may ask,
as the human
on whose area
you roost,
prospective
mother, what
exactly are
you doing
about hygiene?

like when will the
next pigeon
generation be
toilet-trained?

after all cats
dig a hole and
cover afterwards
so you see -
ablution evolution
is certainly possible
in the creature world

I have no other
complaints,
winged sister,
you take
little space,
may your
children prosper

we are sorry
for the trees ,
by the way

for our species,
frequently intimidated,
perennially afraid,
build fortresses
of dismay, that you
have to conjure
your nests on them

I do hope your kids,
god willing, when
time ripens, built
their nests on
branches, lay their
eggs on huge trees,
take flying classes
off stout branches...

by the way,
don't spread
the word to the
rest of your kin,
that our balcony
is the nesting kind

you see we humans
are still animal,
still territorial,
once is fine, but
another time,
we are not
so jovial...
Sep 2016 · 742
your hate my friend
Snehith Kumbla Sep 2016
your hate my friend
rings more true
than your concern
ever did

lately your
devious
cunning and
withdrawn  

darkness
of desire
and lust
bursts

enveloping
you in
lurid
colours

gliding
away from
your tricksy
innards

mimicked,
withdrawn,
bulbous,
your guttered

hatred and
ignorance so
pronounced
nothing

could have
been more
stark
but this

clear, dire,
directed
detest
my friend
For a friend and the day that he lost himself.
Sep 2016 · 1.3k
while you were sleeping
Snehith Kumbla Sep 2016
while you were sleeping,
stars stepped out to dance,
trees whistled a tune with the wind,

river shimmered a firefly glow,
sheet of grass blades spread cool,
street mongrels howled a love ballad,

cat clawed a tune on the guitar,
the late Ravi Shankar plucked
divine on his ghostly sitar...

while you were sleeping,
world made a blanket of clouds,
crown of a dozen sunflowers

ii

while you were sleeping
I delved out of this dream
and finally opened my eyes,

saw illusions on angel wings,
mermaids celestially sing of
beauty's imprisoning knots,

dazed world of impossibilities,
eternal bewitchment, disparities,
all afire in new unbiased light,

it is the puzzle that binds you,
not its swab drab culmination,
a loop threading in forever land,

iii

while you were sleeping
I fled the valley, the valley
of hatred, fear, the blind,

while you were sleeping
while you were sleeping
while you were sleeping
Sep 2016 · 717
first, last run diary
Snehith Kumbla Sep 2016
the first time I ran,
mother says,
was because I didn't
want to be held on to,

so I broke all grasps
and fled as children
do and not remember
afterwards,

why

the last time I ran
was yesterday,
cajoling myself
to alarm beeps,

like a break in habit,
slow, tired and then
in rhythm, but not like
a first time, or a last,

tedium

did joy
pass by?
the running gods
didn't reply.
Sep 2016 · 913
twilight city
Snehith Kumbla Sep 2016
Venus flashes in the horizon
a distant torchlight,
invisible constellations
seep the sky's sonority,

the mysterious
assumes a drab
uniformity,

construction inches closer,
stale reptilian cringe...
tired gaiety of headlights
groping home,

that carefree shepherd
within, long lost
and forgotten...
Goodbye Pune, the charming small town that is fast becoming a snarling, chaotic city.
Snehith Kumbla Aug 2016
over the cracked
footpath, he spreads
his time-frozen
wares unawares

of childhood now
arrested indoors,
TV, computer,
cell phone drone,

no mango trees
to aim at, the
playgrounds
have gone concrete,

trudge home
catapult seller,
the market for
such simple pleasures,

now obsolete...
Catapult - A plaything consisting of a Y-shaped stick with elastic between the arms; used to propel small stones (WordWeb dictionary)
Aug 2016 · 14.9k
train journey bits #1
Snehith Kumbla Aug 2016
what forests are those we pass,
blazing along the railway tracks,
a tree bloom of still cranes,
stream black of ******* bane,

stench of dead city rubble,
factories of rusted cast metal,
distant cotton twilight skies,
sun slide across a bunch of wires,    

passing tunnels echo
lonely platforms, frantic gecko,
looming hillside,
crackle dry wood fire,

a god barred in lock&key, 
blink glimpse of the sea 
one rush of vision,
pebble fling at frisson,

metal-crunch rhythm,
grind music sublime,
spark, grunt, grate,
we arrive, we dissipate...
(As experienced on a train journey undertaken in December 2014)
Aug 2016 · 801
simple people
Snehith Kumbla Aug 2016
unheeded as they live
quietly by themselves
easy smiles flowing
banter chatter of
familiar things,

anything out of the
ordinary troubles
them for days after,
furrowed foreheads,
hushed exteriors,

slowly then life
seeps back to
their features,
that engaging goodwill
of generations,

of gentle demeanour
fragile as glass yet
companions affable,
little whiffs of honey
to the human hive,

a vine wall pattern
tribal's thumping
multi-drum song,
unassuming in
celebration,  
    
in the world's
gather, among
greed-gathering
plush pushing
***** blokes

soft spread gentle
wounded crumpled
sing-song trample
firefly twinkle
simple people...
Aug 2016 · 1.2k
listen, rain
Snehith Kumbla Aug 2016
snuffed out
the TV
blare

flung
away the
cell phone

cast aside
delusions,
vexations,

switched
off the
lights

stood in
the dark
then

ear to
its heart,
rain...
Aug 2016 · 1.2k
waiting
Snehith Kumbla Aug 2016
waiting for an old friend,
conversation Irani tea?

waiting for a downpour,
umbrella a support stick?

waiting for a son,
whose canvas shoes he adorns?

waiting for a wife,
her obese form from the doctor's?

waiting for a street dog,
to make biscuit crumble fists?

waiting for nobody,
but tedium, a familiar habit?  

can only blunder in theories,
as I stand beside him,
waiting for somebody...
Aug 2016 · 557
To the Colony Cat, 1993
Snehith Kumbla Aug 2016
dear c

forgive me
for forcibly making you
climb the trunk of a coconut tree,

testing how your kind 
fall from a height and
still land on four feet,

clasp palms over eyes,  
watch you walk backwards
comically, tentatively,

for pinning that
batch to your tail,
with the legend,  
"Stop not, cease not,
until the goal is reached."
...you going round the
dining table to
sister's screams,

cutting off your whiskers
to the shortest length,
just to see what we get,

I know in cat heaven,
they are sentencing
me to a cat body,
and you as my human
master, circle of life...

do remember,
the daily fish feast,
lick-lick-ety milk,
head brushing,
under chin rubs,
soft fur combing,
sleep pat-purr,

do consider,
that I was a kid,
a storm burst
in my head,
as tingled as a
cat on a cat hunt...
Aug 2016 · 4.9k
impending
Snehith Kumbla Aug 2016
I try
warding off
the surge,

but it has
a sea's
nature,

lurking slurp,
mouth-watering
possibilities,

skin
lodged
to skin,

lickety
suckety
spring
Aug 2016 · 435
passion-o-heart, madness
Snehith Kumbla Aug 2016
where oh did I lose that cascade,
passion-o-heart, madness...

clear skied simplicity in dreams,
shut-eyed wonderment in breeze,
where oh did I lose that cascade,
passion-o-heart, madness...

moonlit on an edgy path,
naked-foot on winter grass,
wild wolfish laughter howl,
crackling fire, songs aloud,

where oh did I lose that cascade,
passion-o-heart, madness...

treasures bestowed by a wise friend,
much that I heard and not heed,
a life allowed to be swept away,
million work hours on a morbid chair,  

where oh did I lose that cascade,
passion-o-heart, madness...
Jul 2016 · 868
dancing the garba
Snehith Kumbla Jul 2016
we make a rickety circle
and the beat takes us all,
bend forward, clap our
hands, sway this way, that,

a bow of arms,
twirl of legs, form
wings, furl, unfurl,
the body confined

in a twist of finality,
the world on a
swirl-round axis
and we curl to

where the planet
began its primal
dance, of scent,
step, musk, air...
The garba is a traditional Indian folk dance festival that celebrates nine forms of Goddess Durga. For nine evenings, especially in North-West India, people dance from evening to dawn to traditional music.
Jul 2016 · 413
haiku II
Snehith Kumbla Jul 2016
traffic smoke
piercing the haze
a butterfly
Jul 2016 · 3.4k
Indian Summer, 2016
Snehith Kumbla Jul 2016
summer afternoon  
drifting into vision
gulmohar bloom


summer evening
does the breeze
dance or the tree?


summer bath
the shiver in
collected water


summer twilight
ma shops for
bigger buckets


summer dawn
music spills into
empty buckets


summer dusk
water tanker cuts
a snore into two


summer rain
*outstretched palm
barred window
Jul 2016 · 683
Before Saturday #1
Snehith Kumbla Jul 2016
once I book for Saturday
a hunger starts gathering
heavy between us,

Monday our innards
spew out smoke, Tuesday
we are in flames

we two predators in
distant forests, stripped
of pretensions,

fabric peeling warm
off our skins, tongues
scouring for pleasure,

three sea days and
nights separate us,
defeated by flesh,

we steal each other
our desires, how her
******* ache for touch,

as I knead them to dough,
blood crimson with bites,
drooping over me in ends,

baby you can simply tell
me what you want, and I
tell her, laid back, leisurely,

slow slow slow *******,
deliciously, all the way
in my mouth, she adds,

then to stop, take a breath,
start over, **** inside of the
thighs, navel, *******,

as you want it, all yours,
her wanting me to come
again again and again,

she wants me to '**** me,
lick me, **** me,' till I
come', drive me crazy,

over the edge,
Ohhhh yes yes,
and its midnight,

Tuesday turns to
Wednesday, day closer to
sin, I say, sleep well...
Explicit
Jul 2016 · 408
warmth
Snehith Kumbla Jul 2016
stay
hugged
for now

beautiful
lost
bird

winter
brings
down

its
snow
white
cage
Jul 2016 · 938
Legend of Chetak
Snehith Kumbla Jul 2016
so in pure
fabled fashion,
at the battle of Haldighati (1576),

Chetak, Maharana Pratap
astride, leapt across
a gaping betwixt two cliffs

and fatally injured,
died a hero,
that

400-odd years later
the Arabian steed
stands stone-cut in Jaipur,

the Maharana
urging him on
to battle,

Chetak,
all set to go
airborne...
Jaipur - A city in India.

As the legend goes...Chetak was the horse of Rajput king Maharana Pratap, one of the few rulers who resisted Mughal rule in the 16th century. The horse saved the king's life by leaping across a pass and thus evading the Mughal army. Chetak succumbed to its injuries as a result of the great jump.
Jul 2016 · 603
magic web woman
Snehith Kumbla Jul 2016
magic sweet words
tumult breathless,
teasing over others:
she spins her web,

spins intricately,
nattily: ages of
scalding have done
her in perhaps,

or stabs that refusal
brings, this is how
she is, will be, busy in
her impenetrability

a tightrope walker,
a smooth talker,
faker, giver, taker,
the silk is thick,

her clean heart
thus corrupted
she has trouble
sometimes, I

can see it in her
eyes, the distortion
of not knowing, for
those few dangling

moments, who she is,
face / mask
voice / silence
agreement / refusal

I may have persevered
I may have stayed
if only the years
weren't slipping away,

I wish neither of us
were built this way.
Written in 2013
Jul 2016 · 598
Jasmine, at my window
Snehith Kumbla Jul 2016
why pluck
the jasmine
at my window...

what will I tell
the breeze,  
that go follow

its withering  
among idols
framed pictures

incense fumes  
severed plucked
presented wreath

homage to the gods,  
or will I sway the
bees, a telepathic

signboard painted
of dour directions,
none shall heed

even as petals
pucker away
toothless mouths

nibbling
nothingness...
but there!

within a clawed
green hold
a clasped

delicate
white inch of
a cold moon

jasmine,
at my
window...
Jul 2016 · 7.4k
rain song, village
Snehith Kumbla Jul 2016
a rain is falling,
on the crack’d earth

a rain is teasing,
on the dancing us

how do we return this present,  
this overwhelming love,
endless kisses you shower,
in your every drop

a rain is calling,
on a thunder drum

a rain is singing,
come, ye all come

look the well is swell,
bare earth rustle green again,
how an elusive peacock cries
out the rain's endless names,

a rain is bending,
the mighty banyan tree

a rain is chasing,
cobra, ants and bees

how the sea rages in anarchy,
its heart is majestic today

cling of old things vanish,
in a flowing disarray

a rain is falling,
on the cracked earth

a rain is teasing,
on the dancing us
Jun 2016 · 620
Noah & The Girl
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016
A lacuna
between us,
so I bridged out an arm
across her shoulder,
made slow circles
on her bare arm,

Meanwhile
Noah built his
ship, afloat
despite its
strange design,

One could trust
Russell Crowe on
such earth-saving
matters.

When it got too much,
she plucked my stiff arm,
clasped it with her left,
lay them parallel yet
in unison between
our chairs,

Fingers finding gaps
among her fingers,

A dove flew in,
land ahoy!
it chirped.
While watching Noah (starring Russel Crowe) in a theater.
Jun 2016 · 1.6k
electric, electric
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016
my fingers
her bare smooth sides
a blanket spark
electric, electric  

dragon-fire
breath at my neck
luminescent veins,
electric, electric

a predatory
lunge at the lips
throb siren wail
electric, electric

then in your grasp,
gorging tightness of desire
a heady buzz,
*electric, electric
Jun 2016 · 943
r.i.p, youth
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016
flowers bloom, wither,
yet there is a bud anew,

youth once lost is regret,
wrinkled, folded, askew
Jun 2016 · 551
fit in / fit out?
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016
fit out
or
fit in?

the former
has its
sweet
victories

the latter
more of
an exercise
for sentries
Jun 2016 · 7.7k
paper boat echoes
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016
No
land **!
for you.

Doomed
expeditions,
oblivion,

Only
a wreck's
inevitability,

Yet
soggy,
dogged,

Your
floating
cheer,

Echoes
in childhoods
infinite,

At water's
origin, paper's
invention...
Jun 2016 · 2.8k
rain walk, 1999
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016
lightning vein,
drenching walk,
tea stall steam,
joy loud song,
pothole brim,
splashing talk,
bunch of friends,
evening tease,
folded jeans,
fording brand
new streams...
Jun 2016 · 890
gossip: an introduction
Jun 2016 · 3.4k
drunkard vs streetlight
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016
drunkard
to blinding
streetlight:

"YOU
BLINK
FIRST!"
A village tale, overheard.
Jun 2016 · 8.8k
Goa, in the rains
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016
once dear
if not again

we must be in
Goa when it rains

find a place with
an open terrace

among trees
and lay there

drenched
devoured  

for days
Jun 2016 · 1.6k
cascade, season's first
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016
a little rich
cascade
in free fall  

across stones
not yet slippery
of moss

water in
communion
with the being

a forest
sprouted
within

making
branches
of arms  

trunk
of
torso

fruit
of the
heart

now
skipping
over and on

astride
like a
creature

barefoot
over jagged
stone

a green silken
gurgle
demon sky...
Jun 2016 · 11.8k
On A Mythical Mumbai Weekend
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016
On a mythical Mumbai weekend,
of no serene start or dubious end,
with imaginary beauties, invisible friends,

I stepped out of a puffing train,
my long unkempt hair a lion's mane,
getting used to my twitching tail,

Posing on the Gateway of India,
the extraordinary explorer pose,
took a boat to Elephanta (sans the hose),

and when my shivering co-passengers
had finished feverishly taking pictures
and started screaming holy mothers and sisters,

I took off from the starboard end,
and became the first man-lion to
cross the polluted Indian channel,

surviving to make the news channels,
my scientific name listed as a brand new mammal,
my mating call recognized as a gushing gargle,

On a mythical Mumbai weekend,
of no serene start or dubious end,
with imaginary beauties, invisible friends,

I devoured deep-kissing lovers for lunch
at Bandstand's low-tide on a hunch,
to the delicious sound of munch! munch!

even as Shah Rukh Khan watched disgusted
from his big big bungalow by the sea,
and as the city sharpshooters came after me,    

and later when they brought me down,
from Nariman Point building, like KING KONG,
I tuned a dusty guitar and sang a melancholy song,

on the death of adventure, love and reality,
dangers of delusions, lethargy and self-pity,
repression, horniness and too much TV,

down in a shower of bullets when I went,
sky like the coming of rain, godspeed, godsend,
in a mythical city, where nothing is really meant,

On a mythical Mumbai weekend,
of no serene start or dubious end,
with imaginary beauties, invisible friends...
Mumbai - A crowded, stuffy, over-populated Indian city.

Gateway of India - A 1924 monument by the British to commemorate built to commemorate King George V and Queen Mary's 1911 visit to Mumbai.
Jun 2016 · 956
Mathematics, Stories & I
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016
after years of fending Mathematics,
hiding disastrous test papers as guerrilla tactics,  

lolling in the shame of discovery,  
followed by parents' sherlockian commentary,
how they came upon the dreaded documents, accidentally,  

I thank the gods who gave writers nibs, quills, ink,  
how their tales became shields,infused life in print,

these angelic saviours from Darth Vader menace,
famed rescuers from teacher disguised fiends,
dear, beloved school education, I forgive you all your sins...
Jun 2016 · 858
without you
Snehith Kumbla Jun 2016
slowly, gently,
the poison,
froths the cup it fills,

slowly, gently,
the poison,
twirls between the sips,

surely, surely,
the poison,
a blues tune on my lips,

slowly, gently,
the poison,
reds the cup it fills,

slowly, gently,
the poison,
spouts between the sips,

surely, surely,
the poison,
a blues tune on my lips...
May 2016 · 754
new day
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
what
is heavy
full to
the brim
let it out
smoke like
into the night
that a new
road curves
before me
This poem was first published in the Jan-Feb 2013 issue of Reading Hour Magazine
May 2016 · 2.5k
Ode to 38C
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
to be
kneaded,
in squashy,
jelly ecstasy,

falling over
tumultuous,
a largess of
festivity,

woman,
not as much
as your walk,
talk or nature,

but that one
boom-rocket,
eminent, salient
feature,

lickety, suckety,
twistety, pressety,
lurety, bitety,
fever,

closety, graspety,
claspety, grabety,
clungety, playety,
severe,

twins to be
tended, a little
gorge, to lash
tongue betwixt,

to be clasped,
lurch after
each tip,
tender,

half-earths,
cast on a
potter's wheel,
sun baked,

shaped in
rain's fluidity,
winter's rigidity,
summer fire,

lover's calm,
luster's oasis,
sumptuous,
lush spread,

breeze at
a tree top,
monuments
in rhapsody...
May 2016 · 678
slow
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
I love slow,
not snailish,
random acts,
but where one is
relieved, revealed

in their yawn and
stretching of limbs,
a little scratch
in the ribs,
stomach

like an animal
absently fluffing
up fur...
a spread of charm,
wayward hair

strand curled
curled to a spiral,
deep guttural sigh
of a woman asleep
over her lush hair

or walking quietly
under the trees
trance-gazing
a stray cotton seed,
helicoptering dry leaf,

squirrel run...
I love slow,
gentle sidestep
dance to it,
revolve of

lissome waist to music,
liquid spread
in a hot pan,
still breath
between kisses

sea waves licking
up the feet,
slithering afar,
time nibbling
away...
May 2016 · 1.8k
fragrance
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
music of a drizzle,
wet smell of earth

a sun scattered face,
some winter morning

moonlight walks
with me, at dusk

sleep glows in
a deep cave

I dwell on you...
The poem was first published in the Sep-Oct 2011 issue of Reading Hour Magazine. This is an edited, altered version of the poem.
May 2016 · 1.1k
like animals
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
we frantic
for secretive places

a cave inlet, dim fire,
where we could claw
each other to pieces

like animals
love a distant scent,

all sweet conversation
make hunting spears
no word is meant

who preys whom
what brings us here

primitive echoes
assail our skins
habitual betrayers

ours, yours, bodies  
some lurking thirst

of centuries digs its
claws into flesh
like animals

love a distant scent...
May 2016 · 1.6k
a farmer’s story
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
Didn't reap
Didn't ripen

fed it an elephant diet,
stayed guard all night,
pray-bribed the rain gods,
plotted insect genocides,
sold my wife’s bangles

Didn't reap
Didn't ripen

once where were lush fields,
now the coming of concrete

Didn't reap
Didn't ripen

the seasons are unfaithful,
there is no spring songbird

Didn't reap
Didn't ripen
May 2016 · 2.3k
the moon in my city
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
the moon in my city,  
a hazy crestfallen hue,

those who gaze up to
its beauty, remain few...  

the moon in my city,
betrays a tired air,

wrinkled stench in
reflection, oh despair!

the moon in my city,
glides the benign sky,  

paddles a silver paddle,
bemoaning why, why, why!

the moon is my city,
but has a mother's heart,

it forgives oh so easily,
so gently does it part,

for at the break of dawn,
or on a pensive twilight,

look, there is the moon,
in eternal evasive flight!

the moon in my city,  
the moon in my city...
May 2016 · 1.1k
first love sparks
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
eons before
puberty
set in

closer to
purity

light
years away
from sin

her name
was flame,
in the local
tongue

we were
eight, and
all she asked
me to do

was knot
up the left
shoulder
threads
of her
dress

it was
a quiet
childhood
moment

yet what
I felt then
was an
inkling
of love
probably

that hours
spent together
watching Tom
& Jerry on VHS

had culminated
to this sweet
little gesture
of innocence
May 2016 · 867
fighting anger
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
spout
mayflowers
on my arms

splash
in a fall of
cascade

sing
myself a
melody

fling
a paper
airplane

make arrow
heads of
words

step out
stare intent
at stars

string an
old guitar
to frenzy

run to
the beat
of my feet

very
very
slowly

count
up to
ten

a room
caught in
mid-waltz

hush in  
a storm's
aftermath  

debris
strewn
around
May 2016 · 3.0k
leopard greetings!
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
there was a young leopard
that morning in the sun

on hearing our joyous footfalls
it hailed out, "Having fun?!"

alas, not knowing, poor thing,
we didn't follow jungle tongue

and off we ran in such haste
as a question kept hovering:

"Having fun?!"
This poem is inspired by events that occurred during a trek with a friend on 10th November 2012. Though the creature

was not seen, circumstantial evidence suggests that we had a narrow escape.
May 2016 · 1.2k
drink her in
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
drink her in,
a blue stream
vein at her wrist,
binding, unbinding
tress, thin bow of the
lips, whirlpool curls
at the ear, sea eyes,
as in her sure stride,
her sway, force of
an ebb, cutting away
at the sandbanks,
drink her in…
May 2016 · 2.3k
still
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
the cuckoo still sings
over the traffic smoke,
children still carve
forts by the sea,

gulmohars still bloom
over the widening road,

you could still stir early,
jog through frozen silences,
travel for an hour, still
bathe under a waterfall,

walk up a ruined hill fort,
watch the falling of meteors,

you could still save yourself,  
here in this decay and filth,
you could dig up a little earth,
and ply a little ***** on it,

feed it like a little child,  
and make a tree out of it...
Gulmohar - A tree that blooms orange flowers in summer.
May 2016 · 726
three beach days
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
i

half-hexagonal shape
of collected stones
walling the shore

flapless flight, a
white-belied eagle
spread against hill  

brass lock gate,
a dark morning
to high tide din

gulls fish diving
arrows at twilight,
star-mobbed night

ii

waves swish above,
whip us a few feet,
push, crash, beat

perched on a rock,
soft airborne feet
part water again

an early morning
climb up a cliff,
as far as eyes

can see, the
endless hazy
ruptures of sea

iii

little fire with
wet matchsticks,
coconut husk,

scrap wood,
twigs, winter
grass residue

a confetti of
tales at tea,
she, he, me

quieter in our
rooms at dusk,
again adrift

iv

I sum up my
habits, their
relentless

obstinate
shore lash,
wasted years

here, once
aside from
the crowd

consider
my islands,
my inner seas

v  

how demonic
to confront
oneself, for

once, let it be,
a calmness
settles like

residue, and
though youth
fades every

moment, I may
yet foray again,
again to meet

myself on a
salt breeze morn,
the tide, the beach
May 2016 · 542
dive
Snehith Kumbla May 2016
how brave words melt...
habit, convention,
bind us, eventually

how birds waver
at the sight of an
open cage, numb

life, joy, waste,
so often decided at
the blink of an eye

as to banish the
fear of water, one
has to inevitably

dive
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