Tuesday, 9 April 2019

rock hearts and summer cramps

i have hung my tongue over the high branches
where the sun burns it a bit and wind passes by
letting it dry up// rigid rock mountains grow high//
 all i need is a stream, an ace of hearts
to rush and flow back

Friday, 1 March 2019


      eyes are water bags
      burrowed into// a little-more-than-a-pumpkin//
unwilling to stay or leave//
maybe that's all between life and death//
clouds of unabridged pain

Friday, 15 February 2019

balm of love

Pic courtesy Google

light-flooded night killed all the stars
the sparkle of moist lips brightened up a million

winter is slowly moving to summer’s warmth
and with you I fancy them both together

the waves seem tranquil at horizon’s vanishing point
no sky and ocean but shades of warmth together

you seem to hold the cosmos in your parted lips
and we forget the boundaries of an all sponsored world

Visit  IGWRT and Poets United for LOVEly poems!

Monday, 11 February 2019

particles of chaos/joy

i was dreaming of a rendezvous,
one with the ‘me’ you know, then
with the ‘me’ people who know me know, then
with the ‘me’ people who hates me know;
do all the ‘me’ have a different perspective
about things i know? where shall we meet?

my son speaks of quantum physics
and I think i am volatile like his quantum particles;
i can’t predict the ‘me’ someone else know and
i have this tingling sensation about meeting…
meeting my alter egos spread over some other minds.

the three dimensional lie spread over the horizon
with colors, sounds and calculations,
crisscrossed network of millions of consciousness---
i am a lost dot somewhere; let me float in bliss
without much ado, let me float where color drips
without alter egos, where words flow with rhythm,
yeah, let me be the lost dot until or unless
you find something more precious than ‘bliss’…
let that tingling sensation rest…

Wednesday, 30 January 2019

a little drunk // with colours

picture courtesy Google 

cobalt teal hair playing on snow white face//
that’s how some days pace // the sound of inner peace
the salmon sun drunk with yesterday’s tangerine sea//
the stance // as if a blushed bride timidly pass
indistinctive trees and hills // and I stand in a trance
with no chance to judge // he, she, you, me---chaos
 but cobalt teal hair playing on snow white face//
with aquamarine eyes searching seamless distance
that’s how some days pace // the sound of inner peace
when salmon sun shows up // drunk with yesterday’s tangerine                                   sea

Wednesday, 12 December 2018


Among the leaves of my money plants
In between the books on my bookshelves
Inside the pen holder with colorful pens
Inside my paint box full of color tubes
Among the clothes and toys of my kids
Among their school bags and lunch boxes
Among my kitchen utensils and spice bottles
In between my morning and evening prayers
Among my friends and neighbors
On the streets where I walk and shop
Lies the whole of earth’s peace
My peace to be alive
Let me whisper this peace to the breeze
Let the wind infect every heart with peace
With enchantingly infectious peace and love…

Google Photos

Visit Poets United for Peace on Earth--Midweek Motif

Tuesday, 9 October 2018

Yuck it up!

he asked the new doctor in the alley,
what do I do to sleep peacefully?
doctor gave him a gadget, costly,
that pumps oxygen and brings sleep efficiently
and now every night he checks for its efficiency
while the doctor yucked and vanished stealthily 

Visit dVerse poets pub for ---

dVerse Quadrille #66 – Yuck it Up

reflection, refraction and nonsense...

the foaming milk textured with bubbles
giving a whiff of cardamom and
a spoonful of sugar and tea dust plunging
slowly to a muddy texture---
but simple things turn dark and wrong
like my tea for today’s muse as
it didn’t turn to the rich texture
but empty fluid with nothing for muse
as even the wind go wrong some days
and it reminds you of the good days
as the fever that put me down yesterday
has made me think how healthy I was before
and will be after; nothing stays
but my thoughts which is in my fist
even not so completely but yes, mostly
within the fist of compassion and
within the edges of why we are here,
yes, why we are here…

the empty tea didn’t touch my taste buds
it hit hard on the grey cells
about all things that can go wrong
on any odd day like this or so
and of staying calm within the limits of wisdom
and of the bliss of knowing the nameless love…

Friday, 28 September 2018

mourn for the death of prudence

wet, wrinkled fingers grabbed tight
 onto the old tree that stood tight
with roots gone deep into the earth
as water played rhythmic strokes
against his chest and the tree
and made everything its asset
and yes, water flowed carefree.

 homes of decades floated
as mere bricks and mortar
and all known marks of life melted
deep into the murky water
as all familiar forms of past and present
and mansions and compound walls laughed
and mocked at him like mere lines on water
fading and flowing wild along with the water
as if steadily erasing marks of all tenure.
the rising heat of greed and a molten earth
over which water played wild songs and dramas
as hapless lives floated over deep greed’s forfeits
and yes, water laughs relentlessly as it knows
 wrinkled, wet fingers for sure
 will go back and build mansions and high walls
and yet, water sings wild songs of prudence
that goes on ringing through deaf ear walls.

so for a while
sit on the high walls
until it melts into the waters
and swim in wild waters
until the limbs wear down
for all the footholds
have been erased with greed---
so do the water sings in wild roars.

Monday, 24 September 2018

let us mix colours

the yellow ochre meld into burnt umber,
a bit…
my earthy aspirations split between golden rays;
straight, diagonal and broken lines of muse,
a bit of reality…
and a lot of colour splashes, your splashes of crimson lake;

haven’t we talked it all, a million times?
the routine, the bills, the dishes, kids, chores
and yet, like sun, moon and earth they rotate
again and again---
the golden rays pass between splits,
they come and go and then I take a cup of coffee---

we all are clouds; we go round and round and round,
meanwhile let’s mix colours, your crimson lake
and my yellow ochre…