curling & uncurling

she sews holes

but the wholes never come into being

purple juice of grapes

spurt from her lips; stain her pristine dress

she outlines it lovingly

her doubts reflect in the walled mirror

faith is so fragile

hence she has no use of it now, nor ever

her feet disappear in water

her head sways sideways and upwards

I uncurl my mind around her-

I am not the only one. I know I stand in line.

a trophy

I had carried it for long

everywhere I went

it was with me

I cherished it

pampered it

loved flaunting it

even when it almost faded

it had become a part of me

the very thought of letting go scared me

then I recognized the truth,

surrounding me,

it took pieces off me

a parasite feeding greedily,

I gave it a big shove-

it fell away, leaving me free;

splinters of pensive thought

lay scattered on hard ground

"it deserved the hard coldness too"

lost in our own world

my two older brothers did their sums
my dad watched over them
I, with my pencil, scribbled
in a handmade journal-
my dad had got the sheets,
my mom had bound those-
a line, a few scattered words,
some numbers thrown in-
(in today's world,
those make a password)
likewise my little brother lay beside me,
his nimble fingers fixing a toy car-
each one of us lost in our world
my mom our binding force

(you see, it was love at first sight for us)
I still prefer a pencil,
along with a handmade journal,
both older brothers dabble with numbers;
younger one fixes things,
dad watches over from above-
mom is still the binding force

half-way through

when I think of those times
how life used to be then
paper boats floating on water
paper aeroplanes flying all over
origami made my mind sharp
also made my fingers coordinate

when I think of those times
how life used to be then
I used to serve tea in my tiny cups
(those times were rare)
my dolls were my guest
and my brothers envied me

when I think of those times
how life used to be then
writing notes was the norm
photocopying was unheard of
hanging out in the canteen
used to be only guilty pleasure

when I think of those times
how life used to be then
half-way through I stop myself
what I have now is priceless too
I possess my memories
not to forget my creativity too

when I think of those times
how life used to be then
I don't regret anything
not then, not now
you can't stop the time
from going leaps and bounds

wolfish grins

this road is curvy and wavy,
uphill it is not,
you can walk all of it,
still end up nowhere
the beginning is the end,
the end is the beginning
a paradox or whole truth
even great seers can't say

you see a wolf, you see a little girl,
wearing something red
with a hood on her head
both stand at arms length,
apparently arguing.
we see the wolf crumble-
run to catch him before he falls
she ditched him for a dog,
he can't take it anymore
his grief tears you apart,
the road unravels itself
you traverse through it-
consoling the wolf
I stand there with our girl
her red aura spreads to me
I too walk out, away from you,
never to return

"you see it is a woman's world now"

faceless yet concrete

I have missed the interaction-
the love that we share over the net
faceless to each other yet so concrete
I thought I would survive
yet there was this emptiness-
kind of a vacuum I never anticipated

now it seems I was away from home-
the place where I am myself,
my random musings tied in thread
unravelled only by creativity of others-
the ones, who understand the insanity
of unprocessed writings

here on this space I can speak my mind-
read yours too, none being judgemental

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have not been interacting with my fellow poets and/writers lately. It was more due to work, that is, census duty, which finished yesterday. After I submitted my reports, I feel so light. It was one huge work and I was in a lot of stress. I did like being a part of the exercise though.

I did post poems but restricted visiting others, due to time constraints. I have missed reading my fellow poets' works. My poem comes out of that. I have tried writing it line by line. Now that I am free, I will go back to commenting.

who are we?

there might be wealth of questions for you
but I seek no answers
not in your words
what I wish to hear
you won't say
that's what you think, is it not?
think what you like
I don't really care
too much hassle

your answers even if you made the effort
won't register in me
as I have switched off that arena
I like the numbness that permeates me.
kind of injected into me,
it has become a part of me
isn't it strange
what I disliked about your persona
is now what I am

"where are the questions,
where are the answers-
who is really you, who is really me?

mother of mine

When William Butler wrote that line-
"When you are old and grey and full of sleep”
what was he thinking, I wouldn't know
I hope he did not mean it as a theory
he was generalizing, I presume
one look at my mother, his theory fails
she is old (don't tell her that!)
but not grey and is full of activity
a radiant heroine in her own way

"and she ended with a daughter who is always tired"

incomplete yet so replete

In day's last light
he moved very quietly
hidden behind her

hidden from moon
his non-existent shadows
spooked her out

out came her arms
to protect her facade
and hit him instead

hit by her
he fell on ground
embracing it

sweet earthy embrace
took him in
held him like a lover

earth as his beloved
he kissed it passionately
needing none other

sky as my canvas of thoughts

clouds are like doors
for something above there
I get glimpses of those
and reason out scientifically
yet the beauty doesn't fade
the aura transcends,
permeates and fuses
one can't label it
the ever-changing yet static sky
grounds me. the mass of space
overwhelmes me. I get to know
my blind side, hitherto, ignored.

"doesn't it feel good to go back to being a child?"

a tale which doesn't have a happy ending

glistening dew on grass
remind me of beady eyes
of that dragon
whom I befriended
in my nocturnal forays
unafraid of his hissing
I had touched him softly
and felt him crumbling to my touch
he reciprocated
his talons so sharp and scary
but I remained unscathed

after the world slept
we roamed the forbidden lands
hidden skys, tunnelled earth
before the first light of sun,
he used to hide, I never knew where
one night I found his hide
cut into million of pieces
blood all over, nothing else left
now I roam the obsolete underworld
between dead and undead

"why shed a tear for me?
I won't see it or feel it"

hummer

it arrives solo
nibbles into nature-
an event of sorts?

clouds roll over

sky churns like butter
turbulent clouds roll over
you watch for night rain

rains beat on unwashed windows
dirt gets washed away
you are again as spotless as ever

goodbye, turbulent thoughts-
let the clouds roll away those
and may the bigger picture
enclosed within you
give way to rhapsody of senses

a blow

beauty hunts for joy
forever becomes a thing
winds blow it away

mystical dawn

bamboo shoots beat against each other
the sound of it
in the silence of the night
scares away dark thoughts

how long have I been awake?
it seems like forever
aeons of time merging into it
is it morning yet?

bellowing curtains
shadow the moonlight
when dawn breaks in,
into the room

I fall asleep deeply, dead to the world
but very alive in mystical one

eerily blue

Photo: Gathering by AlicePopkorn
















I erased the orange light
painted it eerily blue
outlines of the birds
flew into me
wheels stopped in wasteland
yet I found a tree
birds scattered into nowhere
but returned and gathered near me
in such a place of quietude
they too fell silent
we watched the fading light
and drowsily fell asleep

when sands came from all sides
all of us were buried alive.

"if you come and dig now,
you will discover the fossilized we."

transient

it is two o'clock-
time when someone else’s love
becomes transiently yours

birthday swan song

song is but a joy
illogically I sing offkey
on my birthday today

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today it is my birthday. I had looked forward of it being the best one of my life but that didn't happen. So what? I can still celebrate it, can't I? I will gift myself with some jewellery, I am hankering after. Another pair of Platinum studs and of course, books. What else should I buy? I wouldn't mind suggestions.

special talent

your pregnant pauses-
are your only special talent
mine is to ignore

night sounds

fraught with such distraught
in darkness he touched her arm;
said, dispel my insomnia