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Your love,
for me, was
an innocuous question
that sounded thus:
"Would you be
by my side
as I look for love
elsewhere?"

My answer,
foolishly, lovingly,
was a hopeful yes.

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It is a half-hearted negation
on the night that follows a day-long trek.
We want intimacy
but the bonebreaking climb has left us motionless.
We stare blank into the abyss
formed by the corners of the tent.
We don't talk for a while
and hear each other's breaths.

(Continued in caption)

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Now instead of texting,
we have begun to share
poems with each other.
A poem in the morning,
one in the afternoon,
one in office post lunch,
one from the metro
on the way back, one post
supper and one just before
the midnight. Sometimes,
one late into the night too,
fearing we might disturb
each other’s sleep, but we don’t.
We’re both awake, waiting for
the other to curb our loneliness,
once again with wistful words —
just not our own.

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Cartography Lessons

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"What? Oh you are so easily offended!
What now?
Will you write a poem?"

Oh I won't just write a poem
I will pull alliterations out of your ass
And metaphors out of your morbid mouth
I will spin similes like you spin lies
And my rhyme scheme as random as your judgement
Or sometimes, even non-existent
Like your stupid brain

So, one bitch to another
I will not just write a poem
I will write it on the lines of my metaphorical palm
And slap you
Till your metaphorical cheeks
Turn into my chapbooks

Now tell me
Do you really want me to write a poem?

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Dates now, seem a misnomer

prejudiced palindrome for time
unwinded veracity on the face of mirages

paradoxes leave their footprints —
on January's warmth.
In the arms of solitude,

hours pass faster than they do.
Amidst all that's a synonym for hullabaloo
there's a song, that stays with me —
like the leftovers of fragrant regrets

on mornings after.
Dreams spread their wings over a lake of constellations
as the lyrics fade from my consciousness;

between tangled strings of time and fate,
letters in faith

find an untimely dearth.

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" The sensation of satisfaction,
The unconditional peace.. "

Big cities and lights.,
doesn't pleased my eyes...
The essence of nature,
indeed every creature...
That giant beautiful fountain,
midst the mountains...
Gave sensation of satisfaction,
The unconditional peace..!!

The resonance from heavens
My palpitations and vision..
Melodious romantic river
strong premonition winds...
Gave sensation of awesomeness
The unconditional joy..!!

Walking alone in the road,
searching for a throne..
Wondering about the stars
healing some scars..
Gave sensation of satisfaction
The unconditional peace..!

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What is a free verse
if it doesn't smell of freedom,
freedom for thoughts to meander
and get lost in the forest
of other thoughts,
freedom for an opinion
however controversial to stay
and survive without outrage,
freedom to end in the middle
without really making a point,
by making a point.

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Oh you call
me a poet
and ask me
to define poetry!

How can I ever?
I've seen only
a few changing seasons
and this life
isn't enough.

My poems are incomplete.

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