(This poem is a tribute to my mamma ( as I call her) for being an amazing mother, for raising two children single, working hard to put food in our hungry bellies, for loving us so much, for setting us free and fad away) Carried in warm waters of her womb for 280 days …
Hour my body was crafted, it was-not a skilled goldsmith or the master strokes of Vinci’s or Raphael’s nor was ever any Michael Angelo . But a humble iron-smith who did the menial job, took his rusted hammer and a dagger carrying stains of dried blood to chisel me-over the blazing flames. For I as woman were to …
I’ve possessed my bitter sorrows long back, Adorned and wore it as part of my flesh , Pains which gushes as streams of scarlet blood through blue veins, raging as river Nile Like whiffs of cheap psychedelic drugs, I consumed every bit and angle of my grief For a woman doesn’t become a woman until …
Like beads of pearls scattered on a polished marble grounds, my soul disintegrated into thousand parts unknown, scattered, knowing that cancer of rage has spread, the lumps of gloom are growing, I a scavenger picked on the left-over carcasses once a live breathing body where blood flew like streams of Tigris now lay blue, cold limpless, still pieces have to be sorted-out …
The melodious fluttering leaves twirling, swaying wooing petals of the withered flowers doing belle on the softer orchestras of the hollow winds of majestic autumns. Shy veiled sun, playing hide-seek from behind the dark clouds, like a coy bride with a mischievous gleam, trying to catch arousing glances… A lone bee hovering on …
Swaying to the notes of thousand bagpipers… dropping all shames twirling round round, like darvesh in wild wild forest. Whatever happens will happen! It’s all god’s will why interfere why despair? Some days are bad like today, I am rollin rollin going spiral down free falling.. Thought to bounce swaying just pounce dropping shames… Whatever …
A blind woman I wandered in the shadowy woods, oblivious of the shades of my emotions as I left behind the years of eerie silences, unspoken verses, random sentiments… only to exhume hues of pinks, blues, blacks and grays buried alive in the unfathomable pits of heart, unearthed the rusty clots and residual tissues from the bony …
Behold darling and just look at my face, do I need more ruby on the lips? or need to walk alluring with sweeping hips? Maybe I should too get bulbous bones fixed! But love my darling is not a spectacle No! Love is no rosy cheeks or her dimpled face. Poets of past who sighed …
The endless shadowy nights are hard to spend but still I wait for darker night to arrive when the goddess of night, Nyx sits by my side caressing and combing the tangles from my ashen hair, envelops me in her shady mysterious grasps. Over many sips of melancholic wine and gulps of memories I …
A rare rendezvous with one Mrs. Kim Oh boy! Oh boy! how she liked to gleam, nevertheless, of what weather was like life for her was always a joy-ride. She liked to ballet and way she moved the gloomy northern winds also grooved an enchantress of some exquisite kind she sure was a sultrous …