When the moon bathes you silver

When the moon bathes you silver
and you are a little navy blue inside
The skin stands anchoring 
both the sparkling silver 
and the midnight blue. 
They converse, 
'You have been there before'
Silver smiles back and says,
'You will be there again.
So? Who did she deny?'

We shared flower-talks

We shared flower-talks 
of roots and wings
of Iron clangs 
And a fragrant mind
Of broken rays
And the breaking light
Of perennial sins 
And shadowed penance
We talked deep into the violet night 
You let the ivy climb on me
Melting grief in your poetry I held 
You promised 'We will soon disembark to a promising dream
of happier times. We will both be walking free.'
Why did you create the shadow of a night?
That folds in memories...
My heart stained of promise and deceit
Wanted to wipe that long buried cold disdain.
Too many tongues mingled to redress the lost and the stolen
Too many houses lay reeking of moist and grandiose moments
What was I searching in you last night 
the reassurance of revolutions or happier times?
The flickering candles melted to death to render me presence.
My cold sweat smelled of lemon grass and cinnamon 
As you talked deep into my soul of a widowed bride
who wears vermilion to justify the false patriarchy of infidel men.
We talked till the night bled out
To a pale pulverized morning...
Something you took from me last night
the essential thread to weave again 
the crimson marigold and the fair jasmine 
Some mornings I sit by, rooted next to the fragrance
In the stomach of hope and despair clutched to dissolve silence.

Beside the Moss Covered Tree

Beside the moss covered tree
The white house lives
With cherry red windows.
Silently arrayed
In curtains and solitude
The capering stories travel.

Untranslatable and moist.

We Left Our Fingerprints and Footprints

We left our fingerprints and footprints
all over the sand.
Standing at a distance,
I find the sea stealthily stretching
to collect the luminous.

Yours afflicted
And mine overturned ...

Through the Open Window

Through the open window moon peers in and runs
It is a naughty child's play 
She taps the pane of every window 
Robbing the black night as she passes 
I chase and lift the curtains 
She escapes to the next pane.

I go as far as the last arch ... 
My sight breathless in its hunt 
She leaves me staring at the leaving trail ...
Poignant, I say, why then? 
She stared back then, that smile got slivers of moon. 

My heart can't fare the distance ... 
I turn around
She had jewelled the dark plant in the room.

This is My New Home

Sometimes I just want to find my way back home mom 
To your beloved mornings of faith
When I simply woke up to those motes of dust 
Shining in thin air little playful with the sun.
To patterns of expected life
When you would pack my tiffin with all those colours
Of everyday love of a caregiver.
To rustic deliverance of your simple rights and wrongs
As mundane as your archaic beliefs 
And deep within I was besotted to the pursuit of an alchemy. 
I want to walk back to your dreams and simple beliefs 
of mediocrity, of stability, of unshakable love;

My pursuit of alchemy brought me 
To towns of psychedelic lights
To music and laments 
To jewels and narcissi 
To debauchery and to towns 
where it rains and clouds 
And it clouds and rains again.

When it rained then I would get drenched tossing my curls 
The passion and plague of a teenage heart lived.
Each drop was festive as end of it all you drew me back to your beloved toiling arms. 
When it rains now I just look at the colourful umbrella in the corner
I watch it rain from my window I fear going down 
I stand protecting my own 
I don't let the rain wash away the remnants of my home. 

I remember you said, this is my new home.

The train must be whistling past posts

I love train journeys

Love the dark blue evening 

Quivering outside your window

The ivory moon with its lavender gaze

Ascending and descending on your ineffable face

The train must be whistling past posts…..

Ignorant of my savage impulses to stop the train

To migrate the unconsummated distance

And simply stain your face with my indolent forelocks

Mooning it with my motionless shadow

Perishing the lavender solitude flowering inconclusively like a ballad in the amethyst sky

Devouring the ageless music that started between us

I love train journeys when it doesn’t lament of distances

Doesn’t lament of my crocodile denials