Skip to main content

Living With A Poem

Lost in nothingness, I look for unformed words.
Insides bursting, verses still not finding a way.
Victory, defeat, murder - everything seems uninspiring.
In the cauldron of wordlessness, the creator is killed.
Numbing nerves collapse, I give up.
Going for a walk might rescue, I assume.

Withering leaves, dry roads, dusty paths - no one cares.
In a flash, a young thing gets trampled.
Truck or a carrier - I know not what. They ask me,
"Have you noted its number ?"

A shrug answers it all - "I have been running away from numbers", I scream.

People disperse, crowds gossip, ambulance arrives at last.
"One down, millions to go", someone shouts.
Evening falls, birds go home and I choose to follow.
Maybe I need to check some numbers now.


Lucifer said…
This was bloody brilliant!!

Popular posts from this blog


I cannot remember my mother,
only sometime in the midst of my play
a tune seems to hover over my playthings,
the tune of some song that she used to
hum while rocking my cradle.

I cannot remember my mother
but when in the early autumn morning
the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air,
the scent of the morning service in the
temple comes to me as the scent of my mother.

I cannot remember my mother
only when from bedroom window
I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky,
I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face
has spread all over the sky.

~Rabindranath Tagore
Note : This was one of  the earliest poems I read,loved and cherished.


Concealed by dark clouds
You keep shining.
Bright streaks of light
Dazzle me.
Enchant me.
And keep me waiting..
Waiting for you.

Amidst Soul-lessness

There is smoke somewhere. 
I cannot seem to figure out where. 
The lights are here, the music is here.
Has it been home here ?
Perhaps. Maybe when it did not rain.
Or maybe when it rained and it did not matter.
Maybe when I walked alone, smiling to myself. 
Or maybe when I realized I was okay.
Had it been always like this ?

Not really. 
Things clicked, took effort and blood. 
Did I do it ? Or the beasts did ? Maybe we both together,
Played this game. 
Amidst soulful solitude, it was love. 
Maybe appreciation.
Another journey, another dry spell. 
Will it ever be home again ? 

P.S. : Penned at Candies, Bandra on 11th January 2017