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


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!

desire mightier
feminine, Humanity, Kindness, Compassion, Inspiration, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry, Self-Help, woman

No Desire Is Mightier

I know not…

Was it a dream or a drowsy opiate slumber?

As I stood on a tortured sea-shore

and cast my eye on the swollen waves

passionately  kissing my naked feet

making love to me with a brutish force

taking me in its azure vinyl embrace

slowly grasping my flaming flesh with

a fiery I’ve never known before,

an uproar a stir in my fragile body

exhausted since centuries of decay

the foamy saline waters entering in me

through all nook and corners, fissures and holes

mixing in all the violent blues with the

crimson reds, crawling stealthily like million

serpents, wriggling gushing upwards

Oh! a sensation a loud roar within

a rapture somewhere, an euphoric elation

an electric jolt worth thousands bolts!

My enslaved body in an act of consummation

so strong, my heart-ached, soul-shuddered

at the violation so brutal, like a hapless bird

caught in a nib of a savage Falcon from the

far-east, I let it happen without any contest

Why? Because I possessed it too and let loose

the cinders of  ancient fire burning in me

for I didn’t surrender, and let it go on without

a single doubt or shame nor did I curse

the gods above, knowing that no desire is

mightier than the other, for yearnings

have the same frenzy everywhere.

But I know not…

Was it a dream or a drowsy opiate slumber?

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


Poets have homes ,

Men and women

have homes but

nothing is going on

in those empty walls.

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.

black wooden fence on snow field at a distance of black bare trees
Nature, poetry, satire

Dear Connecticut

Connecticum Dunkum,

Walmartum Eta Sigma”

Oh! Sweet Connecticut, tell me what,

implore others to inquire where I dwell?

To which I proudly declare, well

it’s the greater hemisphere that rests,

between New York and the Massachusetts.

Touted as the deep south of New England, ‘

often in desperate times, it is the Walmart which

is our Hyde park, where spectacles are

staged and a tongue is lashed at every Isle.

A brow is twictched, a lash fluttering;

in a pursuit of that fairest toilet paper.

In the frigid colds locals turn inwards,

snugging their priveldge and old charms.

And when odious winter hours become unbearable,

journeys are embarked on the pilgrimage;

to the nearest station, to maintain a visage.

Lord is the witness, for the stock exchange

farmers toil hard, to extract wine out of the;

unripe blueberries and gaze with snobbery,

and the exalted pride.

Every big man, you once encountered has moved,

while earthly nymphs in their fair bosoms;

are secretly hatching a conspiracy to fly out.

For humble folks, rising tempers and taxation

has turned friends into foes. But don’t

get me wrong, when the springs abound;

everything once again turns into mirth and merry.

Highest praise is due to our well-bred dame,

lady Martha Stewart whose mansion is not that

far away, and now you know why;

everyone’s future look so down and trodden.

But behold, don’t fret or fume, both beer

and bear has been on a steady incline.

A matchless diversity we often look with disdain

at those, who are neither old nor affluent and

frown upon those whose appearances

don’t match with our very own.

Despite the hardships abead, both

natives and the migrants bask in it’s glory alike,

while secretly dreaming about the

sun-shine city of Florida.

For all you lovely folks out there,

I intend no harm here,

so repair your charms,

and after reading simply move on!

Humour, life, Nature, poetry, satire, wit,

Mr. Fly

Mr. Fly I know you have a story too,

but forgive I’ve some things to pursue.

For once raven nights are no time my

friend to buzz and tell me why?

So Mr. Fly flutter , flap and fly away

go suck the nectar of a flower,

request you to never hover;

mistaking whiff of attar, for a floret.

I can’t tolerate and ignore it anymore.

Reminds of the Nash who spoke the

truth ,“ God in his wisdom made the

fly and then forgot to tell us why.”