Fear of woman in window
life, Love, poetry

Mad Man

Sorcerer he imagined days of virtuosity

those hours of maniac creativity.

Ladies and only ladies objected to his mighty chicken;

but never a ladies man, he was a bloke

Now as his mind became flat with hay

and ethered breaths as he lay.

Pancing back and forth in strange darkness,

gazed at the sky full of moons in naked starkness.

Mother stood in embellished wedding frock,

a chalky dream, it was never to be a cakewalk.

Midst cat droppings, and shattered dreams

he wished to defile a flower again.

But he was nothing but a Mad Man

holding hands
Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, life, Love, poetry

Let us

Let us leave the hand of misery,

and pledge to never gloat in self-pity.

Life is tough, its hard,

but lets just never judge.

We all are victims of both hate and lust.

And this is life nothing more that that,

it is stiff for those who always doubt.

Whatever happens, happens….

So why fret let us love and hold

hands of those who are left behind.

Smile and for once just be kind.

feminine, Humour, life, Love, Nature

Miss That Girl

I miss that girl who,

would run wild, and

was always ready to

smile without  breaks.

She loved without care

When the things 

got tougher simply

cried her heart out.

and life would get 

straight again, ideals

were lofty , heels

higher and memories

ran sharper, food

was always warm 

and drinks forever

bubbling…

Now many springs

later that girl

seek reasons to 

laugh, tears don’t

descend to heart’s

desire, lovers have

gone senile, running

requires plastic knee-

caps and heels are

trimmed to two inches

mark ,forgetfulness is

the way of busy life,

while food requires

a careful watch, the

bubbling drinks be

better left off…

Life might never be

straight again ….

I miss that girl!

life, Love, Nature, poetry

Cheap Bars

In cheap bars,

few words are exchanged.

Men and women are

lip-locked, desiring

a quickie and

some cheap booze.

Few roadside poets

aroused and induced

by blue gin and tonic,

pretend to dabble in

classical sonnets.

There are no

masterpieces here,

nor heroic tales.

Words are concieved

on the rough edges of

burnt joints.

Midst rivers of woes

and poetic verses

lingers a stench

of dead fish.

Everyone comes

here….

Poets have homes ,

Men and women

have homes but

nothing is going on

in those empty walls.

Legend, life, Literature, Love, poetry

XANADU

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-

dome decree: Where Alph, the

sacred river, ran Through caverns

measureless to man Down to a sunless sea.

–Samuel Taylor Coleridge

As, I count my hours

with the endless jars’s

of poor man’s coffee,

I hallucinated about

Coleridge’s Xanadu.

May be it’s just

one meal a day or

is the opium that

Keats snorted.

As I lay bare

in grim winter

afternoon,

I see around me

a wasteland,

but I am dreaming of

Khan’s Xanadu.

photo of tiger
life, Nature, poetry

An Encounter

( A Narrative Poem based on a true encounter in the Himalayan Mountains)

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night;

-William Blake

As it happened one cold winter night,

I bleakly remember the air was of fright.

I trudged on a road tired and weary,

watching my steps turn heavy and dreary.





The air transformed into grim and cold,

trilling’s and chirpings came to an end.

Everything was clasped, by an eerie hold; .

A strange rustling, was it a fiend to slay?





Did I see a ghost in sight?

It pounced and perched from a shadowy bark,

as it tapped , I glanced at its speckled back;

A beastly creature, it has no match.





What are thou? I shivered at it’s types,

with speckled yellow and black stripes.

A terror took over my heart, which was beating fast.

As it fixated the gaze with ember eyes,

I knew, the ghostly spell has been cast.