Tag Archives: poetry

What is a kiss?

What is a kiss?

The making of a palimpsest

Body, soul, mind upon the other

What is a kiss

but the making of a palimpsest

Oblivion upon Touch.


Wary of Verse

I read some verse of beauty rare
In dainty thread of words ensnared
Wrapped in hues of golden thought
The poet to weave a web had sought.

Caught- readily, and waited I-
To drown in misery – but nay-
The web – souse in stilborn rue-
Was frail and could not carry through

Peals of broken heart- they weigh
More than well wrought words can say
(But less than what is in need
To be the blissful amnesic)

They fall through and hang by verse
Over the abyss of hope- midway-

the photo


Here I am, laughing boisterously-

Nobody misses the flying hair,

the static twinkle in the eye,

the fingers wrapped around my waist,

a sliver of skin where the dress slips off my shoulder.

A moment captured for posterity.

Those who see, think-

“At the still point, there the dance is.”


The hair is unwashed, the dress is burlap,

the fingers are leaving a mark,

the twinkle is the reflection of artifice.

I am laughing at myself.



​May I write to you?

My core processors from terabyte speed

swivel and ruggedly power down

(Like the brazen biker without a silencer

jerking to a stop at the junction)

when I try speaking to you-

Wile E. Coyote out of cliff to run.

May I write to you?

I might forget the avalanche of words

that break off into unfinished textese

(Like the mike at the leader’s speech

betrayed by the blackout)

when I try speaking to you-

Homer Simpson run out of d’oh.

May I write to you?

I’d just like the time you see

To google bits of poetry

Appease your grammar nazi

And stalk your facebook ID.

Then perhaps I shall edge in a word or two

And invite you to a mute date

At the cinema.


The evening passes in tense awkwardness

of politesse and thank-yous inching around

soul aches and knee touches seemingly oblivious

Until the charade comes to an end

and a simple “Drive?” hangs in the air.

We loop around roads I told apart


by the aging temple, the Gulmohar

in full bloom, the coy stationery

huddled in between, but no more.

They go by, hurt,defiant at being

forgotten. I memorize instead


Your checkered shirt stretched taut across

shoulders that promise respite

The ache to trace a finger across that back

translating to a pathetic, wandering

finger on the strap slung across

and when you shake your head trying to understand

if what boils in you wells up in me

I count the small number of grey hair,

Register the exact tint of your Ray-Ban,

trace the shape of your teeth through the boyish smile-

Only stopping when

I look at the soul shining out of the reflection

of your gaze in the rear-view

And gasp

Terrified to see the same fire in mine

And with an effort that might have

Ousted Atlas’s, wrench eyes away.

I see

the temple, the Gulmohar, the stationery-

they’re all ablaze.

Kafka stole my poetry

Kafka stole my poetry

The summer last that is.

When light soul liquified

Weighed down- seeped cold.

All my visitors – driven away

From home now nest of vermin

When Kafka stole all my words

The summer last that is.

Gauzed vision has replaced

Clear blue skies with smite

Carefree- that forgotten word

Gives home to vengeful spite

That dreaded moment- realization-

Nothing but a speck of dirt-

In other specks much dirtier

And masks of mirthless mirth

The summer last was when I knew

That Kafka stole my poetry.

But was it ever mine?

Ode to Reiki the dog


O ball of fur that rests in heaven
I pray you are in peace
But if t’is true you have lives seven
Come back to this old street.
For Reiki, when we brought you home
Bundled up in blankets warm-
Restless limbs that longed to roam-
Love barged in like a storm.

Happy barks and wagging tail-
Those were days of chewed up mail.

If it is true that dogs can smile,
Yours was perennial grin.
From mangled limbs you slowly grew
To the devil’s lively twin.
For say, is there a cushion new
That bears not mark of your valour?
No place without déjà vu
Of sneezes caused by scattered fur.

Happy barks and wagging tail-
Those were days of chewed up mail.

You joined the pious family of four
In daily prayers and holy bath
Patient, waiting near the door
If only for your share of prasaadh.
I hope in heaven, there is no bath-
And it is still dry and nice
For flash floods are the aftermath
Of your vigourous drying exercise.

Happy barks and wagging tail-
Those were days of chewed up mail.

You did not promise you would stay
For all from earth return
But in double measure, every day
Love for us you’d churn.
Our faithful bundle thus departs
The angels took you away
Another pup we’ll get, and love,
And treasure all the way.

For happy barks and wagging tail-
That’s the way life should sail.


We had both a fair share of secrets buried deep,
Though woes were shared and souls were bared-
These secrets we did keep.

It wasn’t that we had no trust, we were both very kind,
Though beastly scares had made us one-
We couldn’t speak our mind

All we did was heave a sigh and talk when secrets slept,
And though in sleep our joys awoke –
The secret still was kept

A day came by when finally we had to bid goodbye,
And secrets gnawed at us inside-
Made us look up and sigh

We knew that we could neither say nor part with things unsaid,
Though we had each things concealed-
Our hearts- they broke, they bled.

Depart we didn’t, though fair share of secrets we did keep,
It has been years and we still do-
Locked up in souls them heap.

Unrest (II)

Sing to me, soul- I miss those times

the world was your song, pure and light

Sing to me soul, where have you gone

Don’t let the dark steal away your dawn

Don’t let the mundane get to your dream-

I need you to be free.

Sing to me, soul ‘cause I’ve gone blind

and all I can see is the clock and the time

Sing to me soul, my only ally

in the cage with bars of wrong and right.