to parjanya...

and if the leaves would refuse to sing...

the song would abandon his melody...

what if the night changes its complexion

and the gall would no more be poisonous?

nothing...these words would

remain as nonsense as ever they were...

The Madwoman

A knotted sack with
bones i suppose,
some dead flowers...
Tiny black wings
of a butterfly that is lost
and dust laden seeds of insanity.

...was resting on the pavement
aligning the murky way to the dead Church.

And i thought not to call the angels for her.

I thought not to disturb the resting soul.

Regaining Words

When blind metaphors
Walk under the neon lights
of the crossroads dissecting your mind...

When urban poets shop for words
On women's face and doping trams...
And silkworms weave silk over eyes...

I have bottled one sapling of dream
that has never grown leaves
But purple memories with black petals...

This is my comeback from Nirvana
I attained no salvation but
sold all my bones of hopelessness...

And I am back writing yet again!

The Undressed Fancy

In my eyes, your thought, is a flower
wild and unknown
indulging me
intoxicating me
with in and out the realms of my dream.

There's a portrait in the blue canvas, painted
with the ink of my eye
Thirsty voice
lend me a pinch of life
Let my benumbed veins bring blood for my heart.

The cactus night withdrew its thorns
The glimmering moon fallen in water
in spite of envy
when she saw
us making love with each other

Fear

I stand
At a distance
Far away from where I should be…

I sit on the shoulders
Of a stone
And below me the revolting silence of the water…

I see the seagulls on the face of water
Searching for some bough to perch
I extend one arm…

I turn up at the blue to feel their love
But that they left me with-
is their haunting shrieks!

I just felt...

Imagination is like the firefly on my left eye
it attracts all my attention into oblivion

when i come back, few are still wriggling
like freshwater fish in the fisherman's basket.

Tennyson- A Reminisence

Now you have no more time in your hand
you have said all that you had to...
you have written all that you needed...
you solved few sums... formed few figures ....
....loved all women and sailed vast oceans ...

Now should he pulls down the Factory gate of life
Are you ready to sail off to the Land of Lotos Eaters?

Grief on Stilettos

The blue eyed lamps look down at me
when i walk alone the Dark Street...
The wind plays the fingers on my ear-bones...
.... ..... .....
I turn my eyes behind to find
a shadow stalking Grief on high heels.