He is like the dust mite bitten, golden brown edged, aged leaf Of a book she has known all her life; the scent of which makes her believe there were days She could sink in the thrill of living, Embracing the known, untroubled by the unknown, and there is a future That will grow to…
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In that world, where we were first introduced I laid my eyes on a poem The beginnings of a blue, tender. We prepared to play you in me, and I learnt Poetry is more than stroking this tapestry- Life? In this world, where beauty is in dawns never meeting Twilights And the pond the sky,…
One night I left the jar; the one with a miasma from mold growth, besides the wash basin for the next dawn to arrive when I would have definitely washed it. The dawn never arrived and I didn’t wash it. Someone did after four and half months. Maybe my mother on one of her visits…
It was mid-morning. The realization that all the bridges have been burnt, except for creation’s, crawls out of an uncompromised living; of accrued guilt over not-working; of confusion over the authenticity of the guilt. The wind carried the world’s sadness and the music the call of the world. There was no loneliness. Only absences. There…
Dust from ages gather; thicken and glues to the breath. The breath doesn’t reach existence; it disappears somewhere in between life and living and yet I breathe, yet I exist. The eyes seek to gaze within, to see where the breath disappears. Fingers itch to strip off the layers but they halt halfway, remembering…
The morning saunters through the small rusted gate, halts, captivated at the shrieks; ever animated, of bats and balls and hide and seek and at the gurgles of freedom, of long awaited vacations. While the local Jezebel dwelling in the daunting Jackfruit tree in the backyard; who gets maddened by torch light, the product of…
Casually Classical 