she smiles.
nose pressed against my neck
as rain dives all around,
clapping the soil
with moisture;
filling our breaths
with the sweetness of spring.
I kiss her head as hair,
wild in wind,
envelopes my face.
I used to convince myself that
beauty and cruelty came only
as accomplices.
I was so wrong.
I love you, I whisper.
she smiles.

It was a quite place
The wind spread through the wild flowers
Like a wave
She closed her eyes
She laid in those wild flowers
For a long time
So long her fingers and toes sprouted roots
Grounding her.

They woke up in another world
Feeling like they were in a daze
Everything around them
Moving a little slower
Their veins dilated
Making their blood flowing quietly
Their muscles light as feathers
Making them wanna float
Their conversations about everything
Yet nothing
Their laughter echoing across the water
The heat of the fire tickling their skin
Goosebumps
Appearing
They were high
On love
An experience
They never ever wanted to end

I underestimated the power of poetry
When I was a child
I thought poetry meant having lines that rhymed
When I grew up
I realized poetry had more to it than rhymes

There was raw emotion in poetry
There were moments when prose would never suffice
When you wanted to pour your heart out
But prose would not allow it
Somehow the reins loosen
The stanzas come into being
Like how water spills from overflowing dams
Crashing
Its release obviously long overdue

But finally
The water level has become stable
The quiet has returned
The heart has bounced back to its usual rhythm
After extracting all the plaque within
After encasing all worries in words, in stanzas, in poems
Peace at last
But we know that calm simply means that another storm is yet to arrive

Another poem is yet to be written
But until then, goodbye for now, old friend
Until we meet again

Down on the green county
I tread the ramblers way

Behind the marked gate
Yes, over there
An overgrown sanctuary
Hidden from the open air

This is where I shall step
Where the sun greets the leaves
And the cows seek away
A certain quiet, found with ease

A bridge sits at either end
No water lurks beneath
Only greenery
Masked by the rotting heath

And on these trodden paths
These proven grounds
I emerge in solitude
Away from the crowds

No one can find me here
Not the farmer, nor the cows
They don't understand
They're not allowed

Often they approach
In their passive strides
Intrigued as to what
But never why

It doesn't last
This glimmer of peace
Interrupted
By foreign feet

Again, I am alone
Engulfed by it all.

The squall rousted the last of the roses,
a flutter amongst the mango blossoms.
The storm billowed with savage abandon,
a waterfall cascaded down the wall.
Lightning graffiti scrawled across the sky,
charcoal thunder rattled the fogged windows.

I held her trembling hand and stroked her back
as she leaped at the sound of every crack.
We breathed in rhythm — a steady tempo —
in-out, in-out, our tempest ritual.

He came to report a discovery
of roe while cleaning the rohu for lunch.
Spicy fritters added to the menu —
swift improvement to inclement weather.