Two New Poems On Love


MOSS ROSE 
I want to place this red blossom
in your hair just behind your ear
as you stand by the window
in the shadows of morning
people think we are close friends,
brothers even, so long have they seen us
laughing together
soon they will know we are lovers
I want to walk along the street
holding your hand, your hair with its flower
giving spring to the town
in the heat of summer
( Inspired by a photo and caption posted by Onir on his Instagram story )
****************************************
MY LOVER IS A WOMAN 
I couldn’t love so I wrote
words became fingers
the paper her skin, raw, sensual,
quivering with desire
my love for her became a protest
love – a weapon, a tool,
an agent of change
I wanted to rebel with poetry,
with dreams, with colors,
with Kohl lined eyes,
lips upon lips, with spring pollen,
with rhythm of the rain,
a bit of summer sky,
the seasons of the city spilling in her veins
– her body an alchemy of color palette –
Gulmohar, Jacaranda, Bougainvillea
 It is in these words I found her
and in turn found myself
and since then I can’t stop coming out
I want to come out in all possible ways
I want to come out and love
unabashed and unapologetic
I want to come out in rainbow colours
and say out loud –
yes, my lover is a woman
and you can put me behind bars
but never back in the closet
Advertisements

Weekend Poems


MELANCHOLIA

Melancholia is…

a language beyond words

a language…

that breathes and festers behind

the shadowy precincts of time

a language…

that lingers like a nightmare

beneath the waking mind

a language…

of ancient hills, weary roads

and winter nights

a language…

of falling snow, of distant shorelines

of a dissonance dark yet endearing

it is…

the moaning of the rocks,

a poem gone astray

it is…

a reflective footnote

a haunting noctuary

it is…

the sound of footsteps on narrow

staircases and draughty corridors

it is…

a funeral in the rain

a shadow of despair

Melancholia is…

a feeling for dark days

that grow in loneliness and sorrow

Melancholia is…

as low as your life can become

before you remember the sunrise

NEEDS 

love waits at a street corner

where shadows hold the sunlight

remembering places

we had promised to visit

but never did

you were always busy

I was always living

our needs never coincided

 

Poetry News


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.

VOWELS

Thank you Dear Rebecca for giving your voice to our poem..

 

 

Four Poems


That feeling when you have one foot at the edge of the void and the other on a loose stone. Times have changed and I am trying to cope with the current challenges. Challenges in terms of health, finances and relationships. I know the universe is benevolent and listening so here’s to that and writing more.

 

1.

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.

2.

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)

  1. Reminiscence

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)

 

  1. Parting

on the table at dawn
scattered breadcrumbs
unfinished coffee
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 🙂 )

Poems Of Absence


These poems were first published in Peregrine Muse under a common title ‘Five Remembrances’. 

1

I see you in the slant of light
that streams in from a distant time,
your body translucent as sea,
the river holds your face in watery hands,
your voice shivers on bare stones,
sand sings your songs, your eyes,
emptied of seasons, gaze at me,
wrapping me in a quiet embrace, 
filling themselves with my longings,
my heart, hollowed of words,
weighs heavy with the moments
I did not live with you,
I reach out for you across the mist,
you withdraw in silence.
2
Night shivers on quiet trees,
the silver disc of midnight moon,
torn by the branches of conifers,
drags its light over rustling Deodars,
drops behind houses at the valley’s edge,
the cold air bears the fragrance
of tobacco smoke and timeworn wood,
silence and regret haunt me
as I feel your absence growing
like moss on the walls of our empty home,
when shadows take shape I think it is you,
but I know you never come here now,
every night I wander among your memories,
hoping to feel your presence,
and when time rolls up the night,
like a well used prayer mat,
and puts it away for the day,
I return to my final resting place
carrying the dust of our dreams. 

Two Travel Poems


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 

 

Four Short 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.

******* xxxxx*******

Old photographs.

Faded with time.

A life in monochrome.

Another time. Another world.

Conversations tied in neat bundles.

Each word pulsating with life.

**********xxxxxxxx**********

In the quantum multiverse

we would be lovers,

but here, separated

by the universes,

we are nothing but

a very complex

solitaire mystery,

thrown together

with a sprinkling of star-dust.

 **********************xxxxxxx******************

An invitation

 the sun is a lie,

the moon, an illusion,

the earth, a landscape

 of destruction

let us hire a spaceship,

take a flight on a

suborbital airlines,

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

all-consuming way,

love is a slave to existence

Earth is no place for lovers

(cocreated with a special friend)

***********xxxxxxxxxxxxx**********

You And Me – Hush


I lost you over time.

We had so much to say

but nothing was said.

Mail stopped coming,

online chats gradually ceased.

Phone conversations

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.

—————————–

 

Three poems – A tale of love


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.”

(#FridaLove)

*~*

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.

#YouAndMe

Evanesence – Six Short Poems


Your scent,

gentle and sensuous,

warms itself

on my skin,

curling against me

like a cat,

dissolving all the barriers

between us.

*******

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,

forever reinventing.

   ^^^^^

summer rain,

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.

*********************