a language beyond words
that breathes and festers behind
the shadowy precincts of time
that lingers like a nightmare
beneath the waking mind
of ancient hills, weary roads
and winter nights
of falling snow, of distant shorelines
of a dissonance dark yet endearing
the moaning of the rocks,
a poem gone astray
a reflective footnote
a haunting noctuary
the sound of footsteps on narrow
staircases and draughty corridors
a funeral in the rain
a shadow of despair
a feeling for dark days
that grow in loneliness and sorrow
as low as your life can become
before you remember the sunrise
love waits at a street corner
where shadows hold the sunlight
we had promised to visit
but never did
you were always busy
I was always living
our needs never coincided
Two of my Poems were published in the prestigious Tuck Magazine in August. Tuck is a political lit, music and arts journal with a difference run by Michael and Valda Organ.
I don’t know how I forgot to share this news on my blog. I do remember posting the original link to my poems on all social channels. I am really enjoying these small memories from my travel in the Himalayas. Something I miss so much. A lot has been put on hold due to lack of funds, a lot is at stake too due to a sudden financial jolt but I have a belief that the hand that taketh also giveth. 🙂
Here is an excerpt from the poem the poem ‘Waiting‘
“a missed turn can lead you to the most unexpected places
and here I was beneath a canopy of dripping leaves,
in the backyard of nowhere, watching a dream unfold…..”
Read the TWO POEMS by clicking here. Also read the other splendid work on the website.
Thank you editors for giving me this wonderful platform.
Meanwhile good things continue to happen. Rebecca Behar, a poet friend from France read one of the poems, written impromptu by me and my mentor friend James Goddard, at a poetry event. Do listen to it by clicking the link below.
Thank you Dear Rebecca for giving your voice to our poem..
My shadow, dressed in handed down rags,
and smelling of hunger and weed,
melts in the margins, stains them
an invisible red, revealing itself only
in the warm skin of your fingertip.
Carelessly thrown over a chair,
the shirt is the first thing I noticed
as I enter my house,
your fragrance, playing with the night,
settles in the folds of my skin,
seared with grief my heart flutters,
I’m glad you left the shirt, not the key.
(Two more poems published in Peregrine Muse)
Reminiscing, I roam the paths with him,
my loss hangs heavy in the air,
the landscape as parched as my heart,
you a shadow, a ghost, a dream unfulfilled.
Sometimes I hear you… soft whispers
riffled by the warm summer breeze,
your smile lights a dew drop,
I catch your scent from the fragrant trees.
Aromas of food and sleep are in the air
the house is flushed with warmth.
in my loneliness I call your name,
feel your misty breath on my face.
Your face is reflected in the window
you call out, but I don’t hear…
my face is in the raindrops of your tears,
you live in me… it’s you I know
My body holds the shadows of your love,
you are no more, you left me all alone,
my body a graffiti of your fingerprints,
like those you left on everything you touched.
Time is just the blur of your shadow.
I won’t forget you, I won’t forget you…
or the soft tread of your feet
and your music echoing in my dreams.
Long years have passed since you left,
my sorrow failed to become songs of love,
the invisible remained invisible…
I miss you… I miss you… first love of my life.
(first published in learning and creativity magazine)
on the table at dawn
and a few parting words
pinned to a page
beautiful but dead
everything was beautiful
until familiarity and ego
cast their long shadows
across this winter morning
veiled in mist and rain
I mourn the love killed
and struggle to cope
with this ending
so ruthlessly imposed on me
and I wonder if he won
or if I lost.
( A new one 🙂 )
These poems were first published in Peregrine Muse under a common title ‘Five Remembrances’.
These poems are very special to me. First published in Cafe Dissensus Everyday, they talk of a time I lost somewhere in this journey called life.
Today it is exactly a month to their publication and a photograph by my son reminded me that I hadn’t shared them with you. This is the first time I have written any travel poems so please bear with me.
Life, some smoke, some clouds… ज़िन्दगी, कुछ धुआँ, कुछ बादल
Pic credit Shubhang Dogra from another time, another place
“On this summer night,
the cinnamon scented air,
laced with Old Monk,
lured me to the same German Bakery
where I once wrote poems long forgotten.”
Read both the poems here Two Travel Poems
She watched the red streak of the moon
trail over the lake and disappear, never to return,
leaving behind a looming shadow on the tainted waters.
Unrequited love is an orphan of silence, abandoned
to fend for itself, during the endless days
and never-ending nights.
Faded with time.
A life in monochrome.
Another time. Another world.
Conversations tied in neat bundles.
Each word pulsating with life.
In the quantum multiverse
we would be lovers,
but here, separated
by the universes,
we are nothing but
a very complex
with a sprinkling of star-dust.
the sun is a lie,
the moon, an illusion,
the earth, a landscape
let us hire a spaceship,
take a flight on a
the sky calls to us,
let us emerge from
our inner shadows,
spread our darkness
over the dark of the
unknown, let us move
to Pluto, winterized in its
spring, cold, dark and quiet
but then didn’t we always
loved winter? we could rent
a cozy little love nest for cheap,
gaze at the neatly nested orbits
of its five moons, feel the music
of spheres, coalesces our hearts,
let us fall in love in the most
love is a slave to existence
Earth is no place for lovers
(cocreated with a special friend)
I lost you over time.
We had so much to say
but nothing was said.
Mail stopped coming,
online chats gradually ceased.
became impersonal words,
filling in between silences
that we struggled to break.
Your laughter became forced,
you were always elsewhere,
even when with me.
Memories of our meeting
began to fade, until you
were like a vanishing mirage.
You tossed what we shared
into the waves as you crossed
the ocean between us.
It was simple.
A brief encounter became
an imaginary sojourn.
I didn’t know any better,
I was in love with a lover
I had imagined.
Now, you’re only a faded painting
on solitary afternoons,
a monochrome photograph
during my solitary nights.
You brought me dreams,
You brought me nightmares,
Thank you for being my muse,
it helped me bleed out
all that wasn’t me. But now,
“I am my own muse
I am the subject I know
best, the subject I want to better.”
Days that are as uncertain
as you, and nights, that
don’t set me free, each
haunted by the other, my
life, nothing but a
monochrome shadow, caught
in between, such is the summer
of your absence.
Every tale of love,
imaginary or otherwise
is a continuous parting of ways,
a floe, forever drifting between
what was and what could have been.
Things simply are a matter of ‘is’, ‘is not’ and ‘won’t be.
Sometimes you need to draw blood to keep yourself whole. Unlike many who wait in the wings, you won’t have a next stage appearance. I made it sure by giving you a funeral and not a burial.The situation was getting harder to deny.I did not want you to get larger than life and stomp off leaving me to pick up the trash. I set fire to love today. I needed to balance the “kill to care ratio”. The story needed to move to a closure.
gentle and sensuous,
on my skin,
curling against me
like a cat,
dissolving all the barriers
The scent will slowly fade
like the last notes of your favorite song,
ebbing into silence,
haunting me like a
ghost of absence.
we are bound
by the sorrowof the unspoken
and the silence of the spoken words,
our hearts, are made of different stones.
Have you walked through empty corridors?
there is an intimacy there, like love,
it fills you. echoes of another time,
a fusion of light and dark,
an interplay of shadows.
Hidden under the gloom, vast and intricate,
is a phantasm, shrouded in mystery,
my body a Smörgåsbord,
a phantasmal explosion
of a rainbow awry, knutschflecks,
the color of orgasms,
someone said I smell of love,
I must be smelling of longing,
of waiting & hoping,
I must be smelling of you
hunger rises from the skin
like an ache, your touch,
like a flint, sparks the flames,
you, the arsonist,
me, the phoenix,
the amber smell of longing
fills the night,
threadbare, our shadows
rock trance like
on the moonlit walls.