I am learning you!
From the shards of my pieces.
Make them flow blood red.

The ink hangs itself
on night sky wearing my words
as stars; Day, my pen.

I don't get jaded.
Watchin' the clouds crumble down'
birthing petrichor.

My fullstops are dead.
Gifted to bleeding poems.
With ghost syllables.

Zillions of their funerals
are inked. To reach his heart; Moon.

-

Bringing forth the season of agony,
the clock ticked away my happy tears.
Carelessly. Hastily. Like that gushing wind,
never minding the lost leaves spiraling behind.
Until the sun finally shone through them
molding them into limpid souvenirs.

-

Tide after tide tore through my eyes
drenching the front of my silk robes.
Suddenly, the awful quietness
cracks with the first bawl of the newborn.
Then those breezy tides saw no end.

-

Peter : Which number has
strength?

Caspian : Our n' number of
Chai-Valerie...

-

Me : Alexa, play hindi song on Elizah Mikael... !
Alexa : Playing Bole Chudiyan from Kabhi
Khushi Kabhi Gum.
Me : Wha-aat....

*(E) Le jaa le jaa, dil le jaa le jaa
(E) Le jaa le jaa, soniye le jaa le jaa - plays in
the background*

-

You are already a poet if every sunrise inspires
a poem and you wreath the tombstone of the
day with your unheard verses, at sunset.


••Caption••

-

There's Something About The Way It Does!


These are all things of beauty.
And life isn't just an aesthete feeling.
Rather a blend of loads.

//Caption

-

My August, September Poem

August ended like the
dark, fuming expresso
I poured into the cup.

September arrived like
the milk that crashed
into that black coffee,
making it a warm latte.

-

August ended like
that closed window
which has foreseen
every sunshine and
downpour; but not us.
As it faced the world
this time rather than us.

-

All the words that I write
teeters all the way down,
and settles at the bottom
of your heart.

The letters emanating
my longing, falls asleep
on the soft texture
of my letter.

The flowers wilt away on my vase.
But it wouldn't have if it were
made with ink. Like our story,
that runs on the ivory papers.

As the daisies spread their
petals to bathe in sun.
I spread my arms wide, welcoming
your retrouvaille memories.

This noon my door
swings open blithely.
And I see the pearls
of your eyes gleam.

Making its way to me in
beams, like the rays of sun.

-