ring
feminine, life, Love

The Wedding Ring

The wedding ring

lay heavy on the

third finger, as my

finger ages, it sunkens

and digs deep. The

wedding ring never

ages, its tiny diamonds

still sparkles, it glows

like a pale moon…

A woe, a misery it

has tight grip around

my swollen finger like

metal shackles…

It’s glorious sheen

encircles my timid heart

As I finish my odd chores

I look at my wedding-ring

It never ages!

I threw it once down the

stairs, had a toast to

myself but a well-wisher

left it in my porch.

I lamented!

My finger has aged but

the wedding ring never

ages!!

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missing
History, Literature, Nature, poetry, Uncategorized

Metamorphosis

I grew up beyond the grey walls….

Walls that changed hues under varied spells,

mama would strictly keep me inside.

 

The thick silver parapets adorned tiny holes,

black ashen specks from where I marveled

at the cruel oddity of the world.

 

A faded sepia of Papa hung at a crooked

angle-tilted towards outside,shadowing

other picture-frames.

 

The grim monsoons brought spree of life

stamping on foundations of boundless

hedge, spreading its tentacles…

 

Vile serpentine vines of bougainvillea invaded

sacred space, by keeping me in restraints

stealthily crawling into me.

 

I see scaly lizards licking the swollen damp

crusts of the walls, that now turned

purplish hue, squeaking hushly;

“papa zedes, papa zedes

papa zedes, papa zedes”

 

Terrified of clicking sounds,every monsoon

I meticulously filled up fissures with 

Papa’s old black and whites.

 

Once smacked across the sugar face smiling,

I always beamed when I sobbed inside,

tongue at loss of words….

I covered the last fissure with the only picture 

I had of Papa.

 

Forever barricading myself with-in walls, I

metamorphosed into silver, a mass of

cemented blood in concrete limbs.

Fortifying myself of the lingering echoes…

“papa zedes, papa zedes

papa zedes, papa zedes”

 

 

wound
life, Love, poetry, Uncategorized

Wounded

I don’t carry with me golden strings

of pompous words, nor an embroidery

of the  embellished locutions for 

what I carry in me is a bleeding heart

from where words gush out a greenish

pus from decomposing wounds forever

in loop for they never heal, as my brain

keep playing the same slapstick movie

again and again, my miserable spirit

trapped with in the grotesqueness of 

familial events, angered and then

sobered again!

mamma
feminine, life, Love, Nature, poetry

Mamma (Mother)

(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 ,raising two children along

with abuses of father who existed in

his absence.

 

Ran from pillar to pillar, shore to shore

in scorching heats and icy colds to put

a loaf of bread on that severed table

brutal reminder of wedding that

once too  place. 

 

The sheer poise in her demeanor will 

guard her children from, the evil that

dwells in this world,that assuring smile

would blanket her little ones from the

coldness that only humans are capable of.

 

And when the time came she walked

two steps behind waning and waxing

like the aged moon,for sons who were

once lovers turned blind, feebly tamed 

by the shrewd ways.

 

What she achieved was extraordinary

no bills or coins of worth but the 

glorious grace to stand on her own, 

A lesson  learnt since she a woman 

came into the world.

 

It didn’t matter there was a beautiful

symmetry in her fragile body, the 

enthralling rhythm in her walk and

that charm, a rare one that some 

poets celebrate…

 

She was to be a vision which shines

without rays of cruel Sun, she was to

guard her place of work, learn to be

loved without a man on her side.

 

From the high cliff now that I see, this will be

be the world of some father and sons,

of few dimes and family names but I’ll

always be my mamma’s little girl!

 

 

life, Literature, Love, Nature, poetry

Snobbish Indifference

Stolen glances 

missing beats 

those translucent

moments, porous 

breaths evaporated 

in cheap sooty puffs 

of gas-station

cigarettes, lungs 

choked of highway

psychedelics, motel

caffeine to measure

vaccant hours of 

your casual neglect, 

I measure from

puff to puff,

smoke to smoke

and make most of

those empty

hours, all while

gazing at your 

sinful lips,

marveling the

arched Sicilian 

nose where rests 

that snobbish  

indifference… 

 

 

  

Rose Flower
Love, Nature, poetry

Love And Lovers

Love a deceitful whispered

silently in cold nights

gently waking me from a

self induced delirium,

echos of those chatters

and laughters, lingering

on in some nights, for

Love remains deceitful

and dimpled lovers elusive ,

I humbly accept what my

beloved offers knowing

that price paid for few

moments and sighs in love

 is much more than

begotten, but I embrace such

lovers for they are elusive

and vanish in woods when

jobs are done, taking smilingly

my portions of deceitful

love! 

haunt
life, Love, Nature, poetry

Fangs of Sadness

Like a seizure sadness took

hold of my withered heart

a brutal blow , frenzied  it

leapt, spat it’s venom 

in tubular veins to merge

with red liquids, now in

possession of every fold of

the body,  even when joyous 

petals touche my cheek,

love birds suckle on heavenly

nectars, or naked rain drops

take me in their embraces

fangs  of sadness 

can be heard screeching 

the insides. 

life, Nature, poetry

Voids of hearts

Voids of hearts

are like withered

leaves of bygone

autumns

 

Young saplings do

sprout in vibrant 

springs, hope 

takes birth in 

fissures of 

Earth 

 

But the gloom of 

marble tombstones

erected on scarlet

hearts forever

lingers 

 

Tombs inscribed

on polished ruby 

hearts stand like

rows of platoons 

of martyred 

leaves

 

Midst celebrations 

of new battalions 

the void left

by the fallen

leaves somehow 

always hovers …

 

 

 

Love, Nature

Endurance

Every dawn I travel back -forth from hell

blazing flames of pain resting in the darkest

gorges of  sufferings torments me as naked

infernos burn my parched skins

 

Revealing to me  translucent blisters hiding

beneath my skins but as the coolness of 

dusk swaddles me in its scarlet twilights

 

I swallow my miseries like  a bitter pill

imagining that  these woes will relieve my

pains , heal the erect blisters as venom

cures venom, suffering begets endurance.