Tuesday, November 6, 2012

A letter

can you hear the sound of rain
on my roof top
the funny rhythm of the song 
they sing,
remember this is our place,
the blue lights still yearn for your face
as they glowed on your temples,
I know you are smiling while reading this letter,
and am lying on that old mattress 
where we once made love,
the book rack through which 
you used to run your fingers 
sometimes humming a tune moan for your touch
as I sometimes moan for you
I know you are smiling while reading this letter,
the light, the books, the old mattress
remember them
remember me
I am still here
waiting patiently
fondling the memories
and I know you are smiling while reading this letter.

Monday, October 29, 2012


with the notorious feeling 
of passion,
I looked up to the sky to find you
instead dark clouds hovered about
dear moon 
where were you...
as the paths was whitened with hail
as the chilly wind withered my face
the cracks of my red painted lips
uttered a word of despise,
infected was I 
infected was you dear moon
only a glimpse could heal
only a glimpse could burn
so long
you laid hidden
and I walked along.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Lights,sound and Action.

She looked into his eyes
trying to find the truth
she already knew the truth,
it was her first time
and from there began her journey...

Now she knows the game well,
she sells her products
and she know what sells high.

Mornings;the market is usually down
sometimes the first timers come by
they are never hard nuts to crack.

Ah! it's only the nights...
dressed she stands
sometimes holding a cigarette 
between her touched up lips.
Red...the colour of passion,
psychedellic lights
and I just watch
I am a passerby
who sees her everyday
and she looks into my eyes
and smile
a smile half senile...

Monday, March 19, 2012

Blame it on the glass of wine

You and me

a couple,



seperate individuals

a gap.

The fragile glass of wine

a bigger space

time factor

a random race

and the a seperation.



you, a recluse

I, a recluse

friends comfort

party, drinks, smoke in the air

jargons of thoughts.

You found a way

I too found a way

the end of the story

roads never meet.

You die

I die

hopefully both in Heaven

and we meet.

Thundesr, lightnings

now the question is

are we going to fall for it again?

angels are confused

so are we

However,dear Lord wants

some PEACE.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

The crust and the molten layers

Am not yet ready.

Ready to hear your rumblings and grumbling.

I cease to be a part of your world.

Let me be the loner for a while.

Let me introspect, divulge in the fathomless borders of human mind.

I don’t know who you are.

What is your relation with me?

For me you are just like any other person I have not known

and for the moment I don’t want to know.

Oh! So you are angry.

But I can’t help that. Can I?

You call me selfish. Suit yourself.

I will be gone now for a while.

Where? Don’t ask me that.

Somewhere in between the conscious

and sub-conscious world I hope.

Am I dreaming?

Am I sleeping?

Hell1 I know not.

Let there be cryptic formations of desire,

Unruly lust for temperamental seduction,

Quest for knowledge,

Let there be me and the unknown truth that

lies beneath surrender of human soul.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012


The hip flask still lies
on the table,
the table-where heaps of paper lies
amidst unknown poetry
and if you run your fingers
on the rims of the decorative corners
you will feel dirt
and may be a part of the pain
of those unknown poetry.

He was never a super star,
never aspired to be one,
he was a commoner
like you and me
don't ask me that.

the rusted locket that resembles
a skull,
is a heirloom now
that once belonged to him
and now to me
lies there in a box
of unhindered treasure.

The rust,the dirt
the unknown poetry
are blank spaces that
he lived once,
all is now a black sheet.

I tried to scribble something
but amidst the
unknown poetry
I am just an unknown monosyllable...

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

when i lost poetry

Dreams as they come
as they fly
as they change
sometimes make me awe stuck.

I am who I am
bitterly sweet,
dreamy feverishly dreamy.

yesterday when I lost poetry
I was sad
and then today I found
you again
poetry, you can be fickle minded.

today you are mine
tomorrow you move on
and you leave a mark
and i am still searching....