If you have opened your eyes,
to a Wednesday morning sky,
look at the person in the mirror
and tell them this, with a smile -
"You've made it through half a week,
and Saturday will be here in a while."

-

This midnight poem I write, just for you

in case, in the dreamlands, I miss you,

while you go frolic with the fairies,

causing boys to become bards and write

poems and ballads in their night diaries.

-

Turns out
the monster I was warned about,
who was to eat me alive,
if I open my eyes at night
and find it sitting at my feet,
was just looking for someone
to get through the lonely night with.

-

Unsaid words,
Unvoiced sounds,
Unspoken feelings
and
Untold tales.

Unsung heroes,
Unredeemed villains,
Forgotten fables
and
Muffled mysteries.

Incomplete stories,
Unused metaphors,
Abandoned verses
and
Half-written poems.

All these,
haunt me.

-

memories meant to be forgotten



(full poem in caption)

-

O child of calm and chaos,
cruelly condemned into carrying
carcass of a corroding cosmos inside,
forgive those who do not see
the red hue pooling at your heart.
Clueless are they about the strength
it takes to carry a paradox in mind
while death thumps at your heart.

-

While tracing an invisible curve
on the ebony of his naked skin
do you wonder if he'd say it back
if, at this moment, you tell
that you've fallen for him?

That you've fallen for his silly smile,
for his flaring angry cute nostrils,
for the veins on the back of his hand
with his fingers intertwined with yours.

That you've fallen for how he calms you,
fights off the demon that haunts you,
and for how he's always there for you,
always by you, near you, beside you.

If you tell him what's in your heart,
think he'll say the same back to you?
If you tell him, "I love you",
will he say, "I love you too"?

-

From the freezing woods I gaze,
at the lights inside the cozy cottage,
standing alight, aloof, alone at edge
of the small rainy autumn town.

I gaze at the stream of a pale white smoke
flowing out the chimney in a serpentine wave
and long to be in that small home
standing at the edge of the autumn town.

I look at the fireplace inside,
near to it, on the cushioned couch,
I see myself lazily lying down
on a rainy noon in the autumn town.

I see reflection of the lights inside
shimmering in the waters of the lake beside,
calling me to it, to light, to drown,
to be one with the spirit of the autumn town.

-

Picture this - You are standing under a tree with the cool, chilly wind blowing as you gaze at the sky which is blue with lots of gray hues mixed into it, except at the horizon where the sky is a mixture of orange and pink because the sun is trying to hold on to the last few moments of the day before slipping away towards the other side of the planet to meet the night owl who is still awake trying to craft a one single sentence about the sunset you are witnessing.

-

Drops of tears are dripping in the ocean,
salty droplets mixing with saltier water,
like life salting my heart with problems
and meddling with my melting mind.

I just sit idle and listen to the drops fall
and my heart beating to rhythm of the drip.
Once the eyes are empty and tears dry away
I drain the ocean so I can cry another day.

-