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The Northern Planes
The heat is baking the Northern Planes, Frankly, I am least worried, Father is beyond all heat waves, Mother has receded into her ribs. The summers bring the mangoes too, They now grow on puny...
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Gap-toothed Smile
In the recesses of the gap-toothed smile my tears are black. Pallid stars in the inky blue of a dying sky. A fly on the windshield of bliss wriggling in vacuum, Hanging still through swerves and sweeps...
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Of Crows and Swans
Tumbling tonight in tavernous treks, My breath reeking of Chenin Blanc, I have courage enough to read the blogs of whitest crows and blackest swans. “How to create a Facebook account,” He quipped to...
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The Song of Jar Jar Binks
I can smell the diction Taliban just beyond my window. I can hear the rat-a-tat of their words, its robotic monotony, flapping like dodo. Peeking out the pane, I see skyscrapers raised on cacophony of...
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An Open Puzzle to Haiku Writers
Rose gold iPhone Fingerprints of feather Haiku they wrote. The bowels jettison Smokes of pot noodle Dawn, noon and dusk. Grumbling in the groin The brooding, wet cistern Agrees and sprays. Young...
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With the Cicadas
The evening is long with shadows of the afternoon chopped and spent at the edges of green black leaves of pubescent jackfruit trees. With the cicadas I pause and creek. With the cicadas I smile and...
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A Dewdrop Ghazal
The mirror is in youth, the jasmine in bloom, Smoky is the kohl like the moon in a dewdrop. Someone chiselled a solitaire on the finger of my beloved, I will dance with her shadow on the rims of a...
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A Byte of Moonshine
Clouds germinate on the zephyrs from wet hills The heart leaps windward with the kite of moonshine. I count my blessings over the timeline of Facebook Waiting in the tunnels for a byte of moonshine....
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Malice of Zinfandel
Silver grey on temple peaks is the fern of the New Year. The sun has grown wrinkles at the turn of the New Year. Candlelit stilettos turned sherry red in a nightclub, Istanbul is freshly dug cavern of...
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The Cleaver of Oblivion
The Milky Way is dying, or is dead, by the lever of oblivion; A billion suns will be shattered by the cleaver of oblivion. I remember not the love songs lost or the updraughts of passion; Drowned in...
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The Springtime Wind —A Translation
Basanti Hawa, or the ‘Springtime Wind’, was the first Hindi poem I fell in love with, early in my childhood. It is written by Kedarnath Agarwal, a much-awarded doyen of Hindi Literature. The poem...
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A Holus-bolus Odyssey
The page remained unblemished across the night, waiting for letters. But then why sniffle a haiku When one can weep a sea? The peepal tree has a new, green sheath. It shimmers and quivers in the barely...
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I Knew I Shall Weep
Where walkways were fragrant with you, I shall weep, It was not till I left your city, I knew I shall weep. Affinity is at discount in the market of subsistence; There are thousands in the meandering...
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The Aroma of Darkness
There are many veils to fog the view, Many mists that came with myopia to hug me at the brink of boyhood, shattering a vulturous utopia. To a lad with concaved countenance, came a blaze following the...
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My Aunt’s Lollipops
Such divinations were planted in my ears by my aunt who died on a cloudy day, spelling out the mantra for absolute cheers by watching out the omens sent my way. Cruising for success never comes by...
View ArticleBurning Monsters
They are burning effigies, it’s that time of the season, Ones in flesh and bones are hatching crimes of the season. Bandits from the barrens decree beheading of the infidel, And savour blinkered women...
View ArticleOnly the Crows
Derrick J. Night, who writes everyday about his incredibly plenteous garden, weaves subtle symbols and imagery in the titles and subjects of his photo-filled posts. Yesterday, I was struck by the title...
View ArticleA Leaf by The Nightfall
Fallen by the wayside like a sheaf by the nightfall, The sea of love has withered on the reef by the nightfall. Happiness will travel only one way with her footsteps, The dust will settle deep like a...
View ArticleYears in the Ash
The old year shrivels like a dog-eared calendar in the ash, Days fuse into dust, hope into hungry tinder, in the ash. For a decade of scribbling my heart out on Internet, The façade has imploded in all...
View ArticleTeach Me To Dream by D P Dash
Just as I thought I was done with the ash-berries tossed at me by the departing year, suturing up my tattered ego with a ghazal in the reigning obscurity, Mr D. P. Dash ruffled the quiet of my languid...
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