The way you dress was much to impress my wandering soul which now had found a role to pursue you till you push me off a hill and I roll down with a frown on my face - what a mess! The way you speak instils a creak in the chambers of my heart which… Continue reading Jack and Jill Reloaded, Huh?
The morning chill came with a thin drizzle - dipped in tea and served with tobacco. Nausea was gulped down the throat for breakfast - the back of palm wiping the mouth. Trapped in a brown jacket and your green eyes, I felt a sudden urge to ask you to follow me to a place… Continue reading Wind Blown Whispers Wind Naked Down The Corridor
To have you settled in poetry and think of it as an effort well made would be to peel out layer-by-layer the words you ever said. Your departure (not that you had arrived) from my life saw the pole-star blown out like an exhausted candle-flame, devoid of air - trapped in a jar. A rhyme… Continue reading You Killed The Pole Star
I'd make a fine stone in the Duck and Drake game - skimming through the surface with the bare necessary contact, to sink when slowed down; you had seen me slowing down and sink with a faint splash, the moment you said it was better that we meet in letters, best we do not meet… Continue reading There is no Honey for the Tea served in these Crowded Cafes
Autumn winds blow the trees wither, shed their leaves like my tears for you *** The birds chirp at night reminds me of the sound of your jingling earrings *** Intoxication in your love is far more than pegs of rum poured neat *** The mosquitoes bite me in the night as I sit waiting… Continue reading Haiku(s) for Autumn
The tiny, transparent water droplets decorating your hair spread through the air as you shake your head and smile at me. Your lips are mauled by your teeth. I ask: May I? "Why not? you consent. "No reason that I must not," and I clap like a child unwilling to let go of his first… Continue reading Erotic Poetry
The road was filled with bustling traffic. In the state of half-drunkenness, moving was a laborious task, and yet he moved, much against his will. The stoned footpath trampled with busy footsteps, had always been like this, ever since it was made. It was the constant movement of the footsteps of the pedestrians that must… Continue reading Fairy Lights In Decorated Places: Part II