Thursday, 20 October 2016


Google Image

a little bird sits
dash of yellow in green mien
morning grows to noon

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Wednesday, 19 October 2016

a casual walk

Courtesy Google

…through the streets of colorful scenes and occasional unpleasant odor, we walk, hand in hand; Lenskart’s colorful showroom looking through the toughened glass---one frame free---a free frame to frame our vision; we walk on, talk about views, casually, that we own perceptions and overlook other’s views, subtlety melts over the boundaries, to view it means labor…

eagle’s eye, strident
fish beneath water, silent
young age, refraction betrays

…shops are vibrant with Diwali’s colour, they colour our vision, a hesitant ecstasy arising with no convinced reason; the boy who sells balloons stares long at the dry fruit shop, people who shops have their plump little kids, he is staring at them with vacant eyes…

Prussian blue sky
Stars glimmering, fantasy
vehicles blew smoke

city booms with color and sound, we return home, with fresh air, diyas and hungry stomachs; aroma of ghee soaked roties, curry, pulav and many more things from the apartment fills our room, what to cook hovers around our heads as we enter the silent kitchen…


Tuesday, 18 October 2016

cycle of life..

Courtesy Google

clay whispering songs...
epics of mud to the potter
vessels to hold life…

Monday, 17 October 2016


rosary moving…
tears chanting in memory
twelve petals blooming

Saturday, 15 October 2016

In pursuit

Courtesy Google

soul that travels
between light and dark
among thrown out choices
of light and dark
sits in contemplation

a tree that sheds all its leaves
for a lush green rebirth
the moon that dies 
for a brighter rebirth
aching redemption

endless journey
between light and dark
between choices
between emotions
withering away
a thousand times

soul that travels
between light and dark
ends up with no prejudice
ends up with no verdicts
ends up with no gains

like the trees of lush green rebirth
like the full moon of night sky
lives and dies, dies and lives
in love for light, in love for light and
in love for light…

Wednesday, 12 October 2016

Celebrate life!

Courtesy Google

[Geetha: Chapter 9, Verse 26

patram pushhpam phalam toyam yo me bhaktyaa prayachchati |
tadaham bhaktyupahritamashnaami prayataatmanah ||
Meaning: I (LORD) accept the offering of even a leaf, a flower, fruit or water, when it is offered with loving devotion.

Geetha: Chapter 3, Verse 19

Kaama eshha krodha eshha rajogunasamudbhavah |
mahaashano mahaapaapma viddhyenamiha vairinamh ||

Meaning: Desire and anger which are born out of passion are insatiable and prompt man to great sin and should be recognized as enemies.]

As the fresh dew drop on a tender leaf
So is the culture I am born---
For those who seek, beauty and eternity---
As the sun and the wind to everybody, equally
So is the culture I am born---
For those who seek, freedom and love---
As the water and the fire, the cause and the spirit
So is the culture I am born---
For those who seek, wisdom and redemption---
So I celebrate being me, being in my land
Being able to live without hate and ego and
Being able to know the holy scripture of life,
That simplicity and compassion are the key!

In dedication to humanity and all cultures across the earth, may all respect each other and find meaning in living and letting others live.

Saturday, 8 October 2016


“It seemed to be a necessary ritual that he should prepare himself for sleep by meditating under the solemnity of the night sky… a mysterious transaction between the infinity of the soul and the infinity of the universe.” – Victor Hugo

“There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you with freedom, others when it is a bitter tonic, and still others when it is a poison that makes you beat your head against the wall.” – Colette  -------  from Sana's Prompt Nights.

there are songs
beneath my iris
like eagles of high sky

some songs are lost
we used to sing together
flocking in cadence
now we live eagle lives

among the clouds live
white necked birds of prey
awe and wonder of childhood days

there were days of butterflies
world was a little flower
fascinations of innocent days
fear of eagles ebbed and flowed
but butterfly songs colored my iris

within the four chambers of beating red
within the grey and white matters
lives eagles of experience
a bird of solitude
with songs of high sky

there are songs
beneath my iris
of tears and smiles
of verity and love
with an eagle eye

i loved my butterfly songs
of my rainbow iris
somewhere behind
it lies as autumn leaves

there are songs
beneath my iris
like eagles of high sky

For dVerse Open link Nights and Prompt Nights

Wednesday, 5 October 2016

...tip, tap.. tip, tap..

…crickets among gentle swaying grass,
whispering jingles, moving on with steps,
brushing sleeping thoughts, whims, dreams…

…aromatic breeze meandering around
unknown blooms, tinkling mind’s appetite…

…moon, soothing cracked skin
of wounded existence, hangs on to branches
high, on meditating trees and watchful ponds…

…a light glow singing night’s songs,
sparkling leaves sprinkling fragrance,
the tree and me swaying in simple, tip tap moves
as dew drops settles in...

Wednesday, 31 August 2016

Moon Muse

Picture courtesy Google

she is a conjurer of magic, moving elegantly
along with every pair of eyes roving,
birthing dreams;
smoking confusions;
injecting fears;
stirring ecstasies;
moving every heart impishly
to all extremes of hidden desires;
unguarded souls drift away.
she plays with me with her schemes unfailingly;
her puffy whitish wings stirring dreams in me,
then hiding behind black mockeries in a wee
bit of playful grin, emerging without wings, at times,
she puts on halos calming me down to a saint
and she is the one who takes me to my beloved
on silent lonely nights;
she is the conjurer of magic, living on high castles
of mystic dreamy shades and silhouettes,
she is the conjurer of magic, black and white;
she is my partner in muse and fantasies.

Sunday, 28 August 2016


Picture courtesy Google

    the mystic colors and stars,
    the sparkles of my eyes
    reflecting; numerous globules
twinkling; endless milky way surges
fears and qualms; where do we belong?

from one dot to another
we move without directions;
the infant eyes wander
with mysterious wonder;
a more mature insight
fears, doubts, and dither;
 zero gravity?

so long as the colors of my eyes,
in my eyes, reflects all around me,
I may stagger, but I’ll stay;
stay to explore…