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Dorothy’s Interview

If I may ask Dorothy, Why were our kisses so stale? The noses never coincided at brim The eyes were dim unlike the films The jittery zit never collapsed for long The pungent breathe for souls-forlorn...

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Gaze

I I saw you the other day My gaze on your body and soul Searching for an adventure-questions in your hollow eyes Carving answers in this mind of mine, gaze-intact. II Today, you came to the park as I...

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Do You Remember?

I Do you remember that child who wanted to be the President? Yes! Him. He’s dead now Don’t frown. This isn’t rare Many such presidents have been disposed off By shells and bombs and roaring guns...

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A Requiem For Words

I The aesthetics in my mind are devoured by ink Where the league of poets have laid down their words Lasting for eternity-though their masters Never return to the train station to bid farewell to the...

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Tyger

I Tyger Tyger, deepening fright In the forest-out of sight Where no one dared to see Burnt postcards from Italy The gulags held onto the dream On the heaven of man’s favourite toy- Bombs- In the...

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Shades Of Blue

I We have won the battle against someone! An unknown bond at the glacier Which remains calm as it was once Safe while it devours the rifles And melts in red under the sun, The same red which once...

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House

In a house with a dozen rooms Of 12×12, there sits an old soul On a broken chair with legs of imagination Running wild at the poisoned altar of God At the centre of this house- house of mankind’s Worst...

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Victor

The Birth of God is a farce- A frantic celebration of useless                                      Taradiddle. Should we fear the Lord or Should the Lord fear us? For we have become the victim To the...

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Postcards

I Under the shadow of the pouring Sun Where the clouds whisper to thunder And the red pint of stamps fly Against the wind to the land of war And loaded guns, There lies an empty house In the corner of...

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The Duvet of Time

Time waits Time waits at your doorstep While you lie under the linen cover In the chicken cot – waiting for breast-like fodder Which you chew on-suckle on Twisting the perky tips into gyres of time....

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