Archive for the ‘verse’ Category


Thursday, January 1st, 2009

i tip-toe on his feet and pull my breath in
to reach the bower his shoulder is;
putting a lid on the evening
that mustn’t flee the silent kiss..

‘knotting is an art’, they say,
‘you can’t perfect all-alone’
what do they know, they
haven’t tried to un-connote

some days, it’s a game of hopscotch
we bend the rules with chalky palms
for what the blue skies witnessed
could oh boy, never go wrong

and then are evenings of tangerine
we fall out of words, before we fall out
of cresting fights, a troughing scene
- landing into old, legal, prosaic mourn

the door unhinged, waning shadows still compete -
to narrate, is absurd; frills fancy but tame,
..i deny modals like the abandon of fine sleet
and naked verbs bid the undoing of his name.


Wednesday, September 3rd, 2008

a scission so deep, its dark in there
a dark so dense, lays some thought bare
that thought so sharp, cuts through the sky
a sky so vast and blue, timid but high.

would someone grab that flying arc?
of bloody coups and the fleeing monarch
were written and sung the tales galore
my thought still paused, to claim its lore.

the wilderness gushes out of its sides
the age it betrays, the truth it decries
its dance is aberrant, knows not it grace
thy thought in this heaven, alas, finds no solace…no place.


Wednesday, June 18th, 2008

“a word after a word after a word
is POWER”, she said.

the vagaries of penning them down
& the nightmare of having to make sense
where non-presence is not absence
and non-existent does exist

the binaries arent really antonyms
and the synonyms dont agree
but poetic license is still pillage
and power presumes itself free

might as well have quoted myself
but she’s my ‘fav-ryt’ you see.

starry nights

Sunday, June 15th, 2008

the constellations i see
are the shapes i recognise;
the ones i make
tell the tale of my life.

kitten in my garden

Friday, May 30th, 2008


A dog, I have always said, is prose; a cat is a poem. 



Monday, May 26th, 2008

Don’t pass me by

she whispered to the raindrops

colors, long dried on the palette

came to life…again

The way those drops kissed her feet

before breaking into a hundred diamonds

the way time waited, as she

peeped into the mirror, living her past in the future

the way wet-earth reminded

her of the could-have-beens…

When a moment could be

the perfect register for the longest night

“Time is a tree, this life one leaf

so long, and long enough”, she has to move on

it has been forgotten, something tells her

and such is life…everyone tells her

walking the thin line between two madnesses

telling yourself, time and again, that it won’t matter after a while

After a while, the rains stopped

water flows down the drains,

carrying with it some leaves, lost-wishes, and a paper-boat

made from a letter that never got written.


p.s.- So much that hasn’t been said spills over from the boundaries of the verse and spoils the page…