Friday, 23 December 2016

[Poem] Colours Of my World

                                Image source:

A child in the crib
With a revolving toy above
A riot of colours flash
At every adult twirl
I stare confused and scared
‘Give it colours!’ a seasoned matriarch orders
The teething ring is coloured so are the building blocks
Crayons and colouring books follow
‘Flowers aren’t green the sun is not blue!’
Mother Laughs

‘Boys wear blue not pink
Not red or even orange’
I stand shamed run home to change
While my cronies smirk
Overnight my wardrobe dwindles
To blue, green, grey and white

Why is my world so black and white?
Why are some colours wrong and some right?
Why is nature so free?
The birds especially, and fish of the sea?

Meanwhile, I smoke a white cigarette
Go to work in a blue shirt
Riding my grey bike
My head swims when girls pass by

Do girls appear so beautiful?
Only because their face and clothes are more colourful?

Monday, 21 November 2016

[Poem] Empathy?

I see the tears in your eyes
In a broken voice you share your pain
I offer comfort
My words sound hollow
Even to me
For within me too lies
A crater
A void
Where pain and self doubt
My eyes rain tears
And hurt wrecks my heart
You are of this earth and so am I
I can neither feel you pain
Nor halt its return

Yet, I say the things you want to hear
Hoping, praying
it will bring you lasting cheer

[Poetry) Haiku

Sun flowers spring in
the morning surging hope dulls
limpid lilies at night

 Sand Dunes 
Hillocks stretch smooth soft
ridged ever changing the wind's
eternal playground

Monday, 7 November 2016

[Poem] Dust Winds Blow Again

                      Image from:

Faint light streams
From a leaden sky
The sun has gone to rest
In his fallow realm
It is earth's turn
At the helm
Birds return to roost
All confused

Wind tumbles through the trees
 Pounding on my roof top
 Distant thunder rumbles
A hungry giant's grumble

Vast cotton balls of dust move
As though propelled
By an invisible blower
Cloaking greenery,
 Dwellings in a brown mail

Grey inks the blue sky
And mornings turn to dusk
Curtains of dust hang
From invisible hooks suspended

Hopes for rain
Are wishful
Eyes singe
And nostrils writhe
Faces turn ashen

In the pall of gloom
Flowers in bloom
Frail leaves tremble
In hope
 Their rain lover
To unravel
Their chaste hue
 In one stroke

Monday, 31 October 2016

[Poem] The song of the Mother

                                         Image from:

The speck grew limb by limb
Swimming in animate waters
A sacred chalice, veiled
In the chancel of her womb
He throbbed and kicked
She was awash with  thrill 
He swelled in strength
Filling every space in her heart

And when the world called to him
He saw it first through her eyes
Propped against a warm shoulder
He hid from fear
And sought out cheer
Drooling, bubbling, gurgling
He was a cloudburst of joy

He learnt to crawl then to walk
When he began to talk
He just couldn't stop
'Mother, I shall never leave you'
He said

'Don't wrap him in your apron strings
He is grown, let him be
Let go
He belongs not in your world
Give him up
to the world of men'
They said

So she sent him away.

His education complete
He returned a man
With a grown up mustache
With limbs grown longer
He dwarfed her
in height and in manner

She pecked shyly at the cheeks
On which she had rained kisses
She grasped the hand
That had clasped her forefinger tight
She stroked his rough hair
That was silken when he left
He nodded all adult like
Talked in clipped tone
She heard her heart moan

Was her little boy lost?
Was his grooming at a cost?
Was his exile worthwhile?
Agitation riled

He got up to leave and smiled
As he bid good bye
In a flash she saw
His hesitation
A look that she knew too well
(A mother can always tell)
Though it vanished
It lingered
She knew then
That her little boy walked again

Tuesday, 23 August 2016

[Poem] A Dewdrop of Warmth

                                                      Image Credit- Sheila Verghis

I neither know day nor night
All I do is see the light
I live in beauty I live in vigour
I glide on the air I feast on nectar

I am a dewdrop of warmth
That glimmers and is gone

I fear neither age nor disease
My life is always an endless trapeze.

[Poem] How Can My Love Hold Him? When...

He is a wanderer  he is a rebel
He is wanton he is wild
He is a fiend most dreadful
But he is also gentle as a child

He is a traveller adventurous
Tripping around in the wilderness
He flutes as he scales mountains
And sings as he rides the seas

No windows stop, no door bars his way
Bodies come under his sway
They surrender, All is his - to plunder

He is the classic imp
undoing a button here, pulling a pleat there
He pushes hats and caps awry
Setting the locks beneath free

How can my love hold him, when nothing can?
He is the breeze, a tease upon the trees
And all I can do - is
Sing of his caprice.

[Poem] In the Land of Sindhu

Proudly flows the Sindhu river
In the land that is named after her
And today that same nation, voices in unison
Your name in one breath, lauds your mission
You, the young star on the horizon
Have pirouetted the country in jubilation
India, your women have finally arrived
Sindhu's Silver, our birthday present, delivered Indian style!

Wednesday, 17 August 2016

[Poem] The Fall

                                                       Image: Munier, Emile -The Broken Vase 
A battered mother
smothers to save
feeds husk
the neonate to choke
She crushes, she kills to save
Her wealth, her honour
Or her daughter's
She does not know...
Thus began our oral histories

She does not know
I am the hope for mankind

I Survive held aloft
by wispy tendrils
that threaten to break
Overhead hovers the weight of centuries
Cloudbursts of oppression to rain

Then I fall,
At every heave
'You are a virgin, free of guile'
'You are a sin, a temptress rank and vile'
The phrases pile
'You are weak'
Abuses pile
Of the mouth, the lips, the hips

I thrash about
My womb swells
Births Dragons, Catapults, Mortars, Cannons,
A giant advances all cells firing

Meanwhile I lie curled
In my own pod
I crawl, crouch in cold and wetness
Every time to rise - fear purged

Tuesday, 21 June 2016

[Poem] Adrift

We live in troubled times. There are approximately 65 million displaced people who are fleeing their homelands either because their country is in conflict or because they face persecution or are poverty stricken. The 19th of June is observed as World Refugee Day.
This poem originally appeared in the online portal Different Truths. 


The monster roars
Dropping shells
I now know what shell-shocked is –
Shell shocked is to lose a neighborhood
Friends, familiarity
In one stroke
To have history erased
In one stroke
Shell shock is red paint splayed on a domestic scene
Rough hearts wipe my canvas clean

Streets become rivers
Ferrying the dead and the living
I desperately pray for a branch, a log, a twig
To anchor me to my land

Death drops its mantle on the fortuitous
Hope gathers up the dammed in his folds
Oh! This foolish hope
Oh! This foolish wish to live
Riding a wispy fate I flee
I run for days
And drift over seas

I had a job, a routine
I had hopes I had dreams
All in an another life
Now I am a cell in a mass of surging humanity
A nameless hopeless spectre
Without an identity
I am a rudderless refugee
Will I ever wrest back my dignity?

Monday, 13 June 2016

[Short Story] The Diverging Road


It was early afternoon. Venu surveyed her surroundings doubtfully. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found the signboard. It read Venpani Peak. What lay ahead was a steep slope. She began the ascent, lips pursed.

She panted a little. The heavy camera that hung around her neck swayed and twisted heavily, with every stride, as she negotiated the jagged steps. Sharp branches of dead wood that grew alongside the path, grazed her elbows and legs.

‘Damn! I should have worn something more sensible!’ she exclaimed as she looked down with dismay at her sleeveless short dress. Several red marks marred the smoothness of her arms and legs. She rubbed them to relieve the pain.
She slowed down to catch her breath and clicked pictures of the golden sunlight filtering in through the curtain of leaves.
The charm of her surroundings engulfed her and she gave in to the pure mountain air, the greenery and the sound of the wind that whooshed through the trees.

Venu was pleased with herself when she finally reached the peak. She spied a wooden bench a little distance away and rushed towards it to rest her aching limbs. But as soon as she sat down, she stood up again drawing in her breath sharply. She was greeted by a sight that she had only seen in the screen savers in her computer. She ran to the brink to drink in the panoramic view of the hills covered in green, dotted with rocky precipices and straight ahead of her, lay a white, misty, waterfall that fell several meters below into a wide river that meandered and vanished through a bend in the rocks. She stood transfixed for a long while and then began photographing it all in a frenzy, eager to capture the sheer beauty and transfer it all into her camera.

She heard the soft rush of a mountain stream and set out to find it. She washed her face and drank the cool water thirstily. Rejuvenated, she moved about capturing wild flowers through her lens, all the while imagining the ripples and the envy it would stir up among her classmates, who were at the base camp. She and her college mates had arrived just that morning on a botanical expedition to the mountains and she had slipped out quietly at lunchtime for her own little adventure in the hills. Will they miss me? Would they perhaps look for me? Would Akil stall them? she wondered.

Venu wasn't the adventurous type at all, but Akil had challenged her to do it and she was never one to back down from a dare.

Thank you Akil, I have the entire hills to myself!’
She shouted hands cupping her mouth, waiting eagerly for the reverberation.

But thoughts of nature, beauty and peace gave place to fear doubt and panic.
Venu was seized by the thought that she had not seen another human being all through.

Her survival instincts kicked in.

She looked around anxiously for the path that would take her back.

But a few false trails later, Venu realized that she was completely lost.

What sort of a boyfriend was this stupid Akil?
He could have easily slipped out with me or he should not have put me up to this! She lamented.

Hunger pangs gnawed at her stomach. Just take any path downhill …it would lead to civilization, a sane voice spoke in her head.

She began her descent and came upon a clearing.

Then she saw him.

He was of a diminutive height, small made. He was brown skinned with an angular face. He wore an embroidered shawl of red black and white over his right shoulder leaving his left shoulder bare.

She ran towards him and began animatedly. ‘Oh thank god, you are here …’
She switched to Tamizh when he fixed her in a quizzical stare.
But when he continued to stare at her in puzzlement, she broke of a twig and began drawing on the ground. She spoke the words slowly and gestured animatedly with both her hands. He nodded and pointed to a pathway through the trees.
She drew money from her pocket and held it out to him. He slowly but firmly pushed her hand away.

As she made her way down hill, sending up a silent prayer, she saw another man.

He came up the stone path effortlessly, twirling a cane. He must have been in his thirties. Everything about him spelt style and fine taste, right from his khaki shorts, blue shirt to the Gucci sunglasses carelessly pushed back to his crown. An unlit cigarette dangled rakishly from a corner of his mouth. He waved at her and Venu waved back a little hesitantly.
He came closer.

'Are you part of that college expedition? She nodded smiling sheepishly.

‘Hmm… That’s what I thought, when I saw you from a distance!’

He gave an easy laugh.

‘What are you doing here all by yourself?’

‘ Oh, I am Sanjay, by the way’

He held out his hand.

She shook it with her fingertips.

‘I am a geologist … I am staying in the same resort.’

Venu merely nodded.

He continued

‘Are you lost or something?

What are you doing with him?’ He gestured to the adivasi, who stood patiently during the exchange.

‘Come with me. I could take you back. I can always come up here tomorrow. Twilight is almost upon us …’ he laughed again.

Venu deliberated for a long moment. She cast a sidelong glance at the adivasi who waited patiently.

‘No’ she began apologetically ‘I think I will go with him ... He has agreed to take me back and it would be impolite.’

He laughed.

‘Don't be silly. I could give him some money and send him away… let me speak to him.’

She turned and blocked his path. She looked him firmly in the eye. 'It's alright. I'll go with him. I am pretty sure we will have plenty of occasions to meet later on…’

She signaled to her guide to lead her and followed him, head bent.

The Noble Savage won the day.

Image Source:

Monday, 2 May 2016

[Poem] For Father

Don't glide into the night
Oh gentle knight
The dark holds many terrors
Monsters prowl in gloomy pools
shadows shift, creep, crawl and hide in secret corners
An owl's hoot is music most dread
So is the jackal's call and the hyena's whine
In darkened thickets crickets sing
And fireflies lead down paths where danger lurks
The giant cat's paw treads lightly on the brush
Alas, no lanterns can light these paths...

Do not go just yet
Oh gentle knight
Let us sit here by the warm fire
And weave tales of delight
Spin the yarn in favoured shapes
 A fount of youth for you
A pool where all wounds heal
Let's unreel Time's Wheel
Find the garden where we sat
You and me
And two more in our company 

Do not glide into the night
Oh gentle knight
Pray, stay awhile, warm, in a golden heart's glow.

Thursday, 21 April 2016

[Poem] I search

Image by: HelgaMcL

I search for him
In smiles strange
In hands extended -I search
For the one touch

Through words that fall of alien lips

Sifting through tones
I search for The Voice

In the light of a thousand eyes
I scour
For the look that delights

In the gloom of the night
When dreams walk free
I hunt for reunion

In slideshows of memories
That collapse and rise
In constant auto play
I search

Tears pry open
Crumpled eyes
Sluice gates
To release
The misery
Threatening to explode
A tormented heart

Loss teaches love
Alas, when all is lost

Tuesday, 12 April 2016

[Poem] Jouissance

I unfurl
A knotted self
  With scissors sometimes
 In music
In dance
 In moon tide
I lie awash in the waves
Or glide on the breeze
Till my wings burn

Into the fire I go
I step in, recoil, step in again
Over coals
Till my toes burn
The tingle of an ice cube
On an expectant tongue
Shuddering fingertips
Running over ice
The tremble and the shiver
Of cascading cold water

Rafting the rapids
Scaling mountains
Diving oceans
Planking the wind
My body arched
My curves
Pulsate to release
To transcend

I am
Always in search
Of the essence
The ineffable

Sunday, 10 April 2016

[Poem] Inquietude

My listless quill rummages an empty pot
Gravelly scratches stain the sheets in stone age toil
Heart in turmoil
Infants still born- fall to the ground

In the stony void life stirs and dies
Insipid the wind
Kites fall limp 

Meandering a maze
in a daze
Words clump and eddy in muddled drains 
A dread most foul engulfs
As words stutter, stall
 Flutter away in the wind

Despair is a frozen mind on a pathless road.

Image sourced from the internet

Friday, 8 April 2016

[Poem] Heroine-ism

 This is a story poem inspired by a real incident that took place in an African village, in a civil war, where a mother had the cruel choice of pitting her child's life against the life of 20 other people and she chose to leave her infant in the hands of god to save the lives of the people of her village.

The terrorists went on a rampage
Wrecking carnage
Spraying bullets like a can of paint
Civilians fell without complaint

In the silence after the storm
The cry of an infant echoed in the distance
The captain signaled his troops to silence
Feet advanced in the stillness
Hate advanced without a conscience
To the shack within a clearance

A Foot in boots kicked open the door
Hoping to find forms huddled
For more target practice
The captain so loved to see
Fear filled eyes of his victims to be

But upon the straw strewn floor
In the centre of the hovel
Lay an infant splaying its arms and feet 

‘Shall I kill it?’ asked a minion
‘No! let it be’ said the captain
‘Its mother thought to save it
Let it die now safe and slow'
In demonic laughter retreated
The gory retinue

The straw on the floor moved
And one by one twenty forms emerged
The mother ran in anxiety
To clutch and comfort her baby
Her eyes streaming in guilt
In vain she had tried to silence it
In the balance hung other lives
The mother made a monstrous choice

To save her brethren at any rate
She left her baby in the hands of fate
Oh how her poor heart did chafe
At leaving her precious bundle unsafe
She prayed that her infant be spared
And perhaps heaven’s heart was moved
The infant lived
And so does she 
In the hearts of the many she saved 

Image sourced from the internet.

Thursday, 7 April 2016

[Poem] Grief

On Dec 23 2015, a BSF plane crashed within 5 minutes after takeoff  killing all 10 on board including 2 pilots and 8 technicians. The pilot detected a snag in the 21 year old plane, but was told to ignore it by the ground control.
For more details please visit:

A daughter asks
Why did you let my father die
Why did you make him ride
An old rickety plane?

Repeating the question
Shaking the stone faced official
 Her throat dry
Her voice hoarse
Eyes streaming
Squeezing out every drop from her body
No one answers
Of what use the answers?

Her father
 Will never return 

 TV crews shoot
Ten tales of ten homes
Their humble facades
Once happy now scarred for life
An uncle who was an inspiration has died
A baby all of two months old
Too young to know the enormity of its loss
An inert bundle in its inert mother's arms

Wives whipped by shock
A heartrending spectacle
Of a son's vigorous slaps
To awaken his mother
Her glazed eyes
A face bereft of life

Ten lives lost in all of ten minutes
The inquiries will come
So the commissions
Public funds
Will once more line coffers
Rich with perjury

The press will move to other stories
Leaving the families alone to grieve
They will recall
 In cruel time warp
How ten men set out one morning
With smiling faces
Carrying lunch boxes
With modest meals
For another day at work
And how cruel apathy
Tightened the screws
Of their coffin in the skies

The pathos of a vacuous pleading
Refuses to leave my head

Image: The Hindu Online

Wednesday, 6 April 2016

[Poem] Fame

Aim high
Writes the bored school teacher
 In your note book

Strive hard
Make a mark
Says dad

Touch the pinnacle
Bless the womb
That housed you
Says mum

Zeal is born of the ashes

Some seek fame
Fame seeks some

So the arduous climb begins
Many fall by the way side
Some go relentlessly on
The fight is on
It’s a marathon
And you are your own

But the spot at the top
Isn’t all that rosy
It is just frenzy, tizzy,

Yes, there are thrills
The ego swells
Warm, the embrace of public gaze
The pleasure of recognition
Spears and spurs The One

Later though, it thaws
Privacy it robs
Robs dignity
Steals friends
All it stokes is jealousy

In the sad pursuit of distinction
Lives have gone into extinction

Acidic fame consumes its own
When the aura dies
It tightens the noose
Upon the recluse
When fame fades
Life is a mere charade
One is often driven
His death to hasten

So why seek fame?
When your destruction
 Is its aim?
Image source: Internet

Tuesday, 5 April 2016

[Poem] Evenings in Summer


Evenings are best
When birds return to roost
Flying stretch marked skies with orange lesions
The shadows thicken
The earth looks new
In the indigo hue

In the fading sunlight
A truant cold emerges kissing parched skins
The slightest breeze
Gives the coldest thrill
The sea winks
At the dying day

Children fill homes with tired laughter
Smells rush out of kitchens unbidden
For trained nostrils to discern

Summer evenings are best
A cold shower’s tingling
 Fools us into believing that winter is here

Twilights are the best
When unshaded eyes feast
Upon cloud-streaked skies,
Emerging stars
And a shameful moon

Flowers unfurl
To trade their fragrances
The muskrose, the lily and the jasmine
Climbing woodbine the senses entwine

Yes evenings are best
Half smiles and hidden glances
Singe the senses
Mild intimacy
Evoking the daze
Of a night of embrace

Image: From the internet

Sunday, 3 April 2016

[Poem] Did Ever Anyone Thwart Him?

The Dark Knight walks
Dark is his mantle
Misty his breath
Blending into the shadows
Sweeping across the land
Pitchfork in hand
Mowing, hauling
The withered and the thriving
With each strike

A twister- swirling
Mopping up agitated dust motes
Like an industrial cleaner

Sometimes he creeps in
On stealth mode, a panther
 Dangling a rope then changing his tack
Licking lips in anticipation
As icy hands inch to crush

White becomes black
Black becomes white again

I have seen boundless love grow cold
Anguish oust hope
Hate replace warmth
Doubt supplant faith

And the tears rain down
squeezed from hearts gone dry
Broken twigs toss about in despair
Driftwood and flotsam desperate for anchor.

Image source: The internet

[Poem] Chisel

The Maker kneads, shapes and chisels
With loving hands
Smiling at His handiwork, he lowers
His creation in to the world of men

She will have a smile that stirs the human heart
Her soft voice will please a tired ear
The ministrations of her gentle hands will provide succour-
Many shall rest in the shade of her heart

She is a fawn that dances
Lightly on the morning air,
She is the whale that rides the ocean of her dreams;
She is the dove that coos at the ramparts of the firmament,
She is gentle, soft, pliable and oh so vulnerable...

So they tell me...

Play with your dolls child
Deck yourself up in jewels and clothes
Keep yourself indoors - no muscles, no tan
I shall weave you tales of fairy lands
Where handsome lads shall pledge romance
Just sing and dance and look pretty

So they tell me...

 Kneaded, shaped, chiseled
A pliable mind and body 
At the cruel hands of Reality
Crumples,withers, wilts,
 Ironically doesn't have the guts
To school daughters into Independence

 Hope swoops in and scoops
Ferrying fools to Purgatory.

Friday, 1 April 2016

[Poem] Breakthrough


Beaten by noises the senses weaken
Children at play
Music from a few houses away
A television’s uproar
vapourize in, through barred window(s)
Assaulted by
 Pounding rains
Telephone rings
Mail alerts
Whatsapp pops
Messenger pings
Twitter trammels
The writer writes
Ofttimes pure drivel
I lock a gregarious me
In a tower of black and white 
Immured, however late the hour
To unlock, unleash a tale
 For the world to devour
Like a solitary hermit
I withdraw
I cede my share of delight
I plunder personal time
Combat exhaustion and sleep
No ties with the world is too deep
Friends can wait, so can family
At the Altar of Perfection
In the service of fiction
The first heads to roll
Are sadly the closest
Tagged a narcissistic self-centered anarchist- 
 I am, but a simple misunderstood idealist.

Thursday, 31 March 2016

[Poem] April Showers


April brings in showers and a wanton breeze
Halting the cold from bidding an early retreat
Watering the earth to release its treasure
So eyes and hearts feel insane pleasure.

Did a cosmic botanist with capital skill
Design and shape them at will
Tracing each bloom with a feathery quill
Emptying canisters of colour, in timeless refill?

Did he with his bare hands mould
Working with pipettes and burettes of gold
Dabbing, dripping mixing, freeing
A drop, a tinge, a splash, a spray,     
Unleashing a springtime sight so gay.
The earth is awash with a befuddled array-
Pert Petunias in red, purple, white, pink,
Wild chamomile that dance in the wind
Lush lavenders do  bob their heads in every trail
Orange marigolds heighten the Amber sun
Faint incense of Frangipani dulls the sense
While the moon flower trumpets its scent upon the night air
Pathways carpeted with purple yarrow
So we may sing and dance and play as if there is no tomorrow.

Wednesday, 23 March 2016

[Poem] A hospital waiting room

A stillness,
 like a clear Austrian Lake-
the light dim
the TV plays a flat channel
on volume close to 2
lending light and nothing more.

A mobile sings gently,
Rippling the silence
An inaudible whisper
A swish of clothes
A form rises,
a muffled adieu
Drifts upon the air as it leaves.

A black clad form floats in
 a hushed greeting
settles down in the void.

In waiting rooms,
Women don't talk of
The weather

They stare intently
at bags shoes and phones
May be they meditate
Or ruminate
over home, quarrels, finances, children...

Does illness make one taciturn?

Tuesday, 1 March 2016

[Book Promo] Summerita Rhayne's His Christmas Delight

Promoting a friend's book. 

Caught by Santa!
For Myra, Christmas means supporting her friends. They rallied round getting her back on her feet after she lost Pete, her husband, so she's always ready to help any of them. No matter to what lengths the challenge makes her go. Only she didn't expect to find Santa almost catching her in her wrongdoings. Then she finds that the handsome Santa is Jay, her old high school friend. Now he's changed from a gangly geek to an attractive stranger. After missing out on the dating scene for a long time after losing Pete, she feels the first stirring of desire. But Jay is playing hot and cold, refusing to admit the attraction sizzling between them.

He’s back in Goa just for Christmas
Jay knew Myra as his best friend's girl. Now Pete is gone, but Jay is finding difficult to let go of the scars he picked up in Coast Guard service. He’s home only to help revive his brother’s toy shop. When he finds himself making excuses to stay, he knows he’s crossing the limits he’d set himself. What’s the purpose in taking this further when he knows he cannot be the one to give her the happiness she deserves?  But no matter how hard he tries, the scorching flames of wanting only seem to get stronger. How can he keep on denying the attraction between them when she insists on coming close?...
Book Link at Amazon:
Goodreads link:

Sunday, 7 February 2016

[Poem] Reflection

Winter engulfs me
Icy, twisted tentacles
Touch and tint
My world in grey

I lie
Eyes glazed,
limbs tremulous- tethered in ether

float about
in stupor all day
I await
A second amnion
Dark and gnarled is the bark
that threaded through life
Dark and worn it lies
Filling my vision

Shrouded in grave silence
A sputtering dyslexic
I have made my peace with Time

Time lingers
An annoying shadow
To reflect
Time and again
To regret
Time and again
Would I delight?

A light floods the room                       
A voice speaks
'Stare not closely at your feet
Or at the closing world

Don't miss the sunshine
The many surges in the sky
The flecks of delightful hues
Springs at the trampoline
Laughter and birdsong
Flower showers on your pastures

Your memories
In amber crystals
Shall forever live
In treasured caches'

Image Courtesy: Nathan Vaidyanathan

Sunday, 31 January 2016

[Poem] Tinsel showers

Droplets fall
holding their place

in skewered lines
rows of
tiny pearl necklaces
 intricately layered
globules large and small
swing ever so gently
in the breeze

Entwined in
webbed frames
the pearly orbs
dangle perilously low
threateningly so

 the beaded curtains
hold on;
the king sleeps
in his royal chamber 

Sleep and dream
in your starry bed
the night is yours
moonlit, draped
in luminous splendour
lie and dream
Oh wanderer

The morning air and Sun
will harpoon and lambast
the fragile dew
and restore a sombre hue
to the skeletal frame

Weave silvery webs
in dreams
as you lie
bathed in tinsel showers