To You

I make a wish
on the waning moon
that I know you’d be watching too
from your part of the world.
I sign my kiss
on the scrolls of the four winds.
My dreams have a way
of ending before I take your hand.
My love,.
I am telling again
You are my sun
and the mist of the rain
that brings rainbow in my soul.
Listen to these words
they are what
my flesh sometimes forgets to say

The Full Circle

The pleasantries were exchanged
That was in the first quadrant
In the second
she threw back her head and laughed
and I splintered
weak-kneed & tongue-tied.
In the third
she tucked a rogue curl
behind her ears
I auctioned my soul to longing
In the fourth
she led me into the fields
where a million fireflies danced
“Stay with me and belong to no one else’
Foolishly I whispered.
I woke up alone and disheveled
the full circle
a noose around my neck.

Cyclone Tauktai

The wind asks the cherry tree
to wake me up
by rapping on my window
with its overgrown branch.
It wants me to judge the orchestra
with the air around
as one colossal woodwind instrument
played by the inept fingers and mouth
of the trees and windows left open.
The sound that they produce
is similar to the wailing
of a mother who lost
all her children
and not a symphony
as he wants it to be.

Death Cried

Even though I am not politically inclined, I couldn’t help posting the above image, as I have been seeing some people still not accepting that the governance failed and things spun out of hand.

Everyday, I get to hear the death of a friend or an acquaintance, often young and without any co-morbidities.

All I am left with are unanswered whys and hows.

I saw death crying
in the corridor,
of the hospital,
leaning on the
shoulder of the soul
he came to collect,
by the pyres
that burned
from daylight
through nightfall
& the silent cries
of the spirits
with none
to hold their hand
as they gasped

Goddess We Worship

Pic credit:

With my nose pressed against
the frosted glass of the window,
I see the Goddess
in her shrine
hear chants of worship
in some obsolete language.

With a cold tap on my shoulder
she invites me in.
Then I see her
skin chipped,
black eyed, nose squashed
corroded and
rained on.

World Poetry Day

Yesterday was World Poetry Day. I woke up to a tag on Twitter by a generous soul, who added me as one of his favourite poets.

Though I don’t post what he called as poems, on WordPress, I do engage in plenty of short write prompts on Twitter.

I would say that words and I are old lovers, while I have spent my half-life with Chemistry. Now I have both.

It is not easy. And I am still learning to write. Some days, words just flow easily. And other days I have to sit tapping my pen.

And I do love the struggle. Filling blank pages with verses. Then striking and rephrasing, till you get it right.. somewhat right.

This one is for the verses I am yet to write.

A million poems
sleep in my heart,
like fireflies in winter,
for a warm summer night.


Empty Nest

November Photo A Day Challenge, by City Sonnet, Day 9


 The nest on the tree
 So empty and forlorn
 It can’t always be full
 They must soar 
 The fledged nestling birds
 She knew that well
 As she nudged them to fly.
 But coming to the door
 Knowing it is empty
 She was seeking water 
 In a well that is dry.
 Still she dares to hope 
 In roots that runs deep.
 The distance between
 now and once again
 Swelled and bellowed,
 when life played a tune
 on its frayed  accordion. 

An LED, Not Your Candle

They said, 
Be a candle,
Ignite your wick,
Let your light shine,
Piercing all darkness
As far as your ray can go
I said,
I can't be a candle,
That burns itself out.
Turning to vapours,
While giving you light.
Melting inch by inch.
Till nothing remains.
An LED light I will be
With Powerjack and internal battery.
Illuminating your world,
Brighter than a candle
When my battery dies,
Will plug-in and recharge.
Then radiant as ever,
I will spread my light for you.