not to be the night when I lick my fingers

it was not to be the night when I lick my fingers,
you laughed at me, chortled at the way I spilled
everything on the canvas of the sky. a roundlet
of onion stuck in our conversation, our poetry.

I remind you of a pie you were to make for me,
and I worry today if I am an irksome ingredient,
like those peppercorns in your vadas that you
spit away saying you find them ground better,

but I am this whole, not a powder of intimacy,
I am a dripping stick-kulfi that coats desires,
I am the extra spice that burns your words,
I am just not a bullet in the index of the menu

that you skip over and come back to, because
I am affordable and easily available today, even
if I come out to be not what you really wanted.

after all,

it is not to to be the night when I lick my fingers,
invisible tears emerge on downtrodden cheeks,
painting colorless sky grey and blue. a julienne
of a fantasy is shattered, to become my poetry.


For dVerse Poetics.

Image source


We all were dead… Now we begin to breathe

I am climbing a wall, bricks jutting out

to be my ladder to reach atop and sit there

wait for the hollering to begin,

I’ve missed it for so long,


they look at me and say that some one shrunk me

while I was veiled by ignorance, both theirs and mine,

and yet it is today when I show a fragment of insanity

and present it to them so that they can cut it and have a piece


of my present, my past is a poster pasted deep within

my skin, them being not a part, but now I want them

to give me a finger and make me a defense of sun rays,

I’ve already had too much of night, but it will linger

and I am okay with that… only if there is a voice now

to call me back when I get entranced and webbed in

locks of the seductress- milady of midnight


For Poetry Jam, where we remember our friends and write our verse keeping them in mind. You may find this piece a little dark but there is a light side to it as well. Relationships such as friendship are dynamic in their propensity, their value and their exhibition.

Image source: Dark To Light Painting by Melissa LeRay

Empty streets

she was a fine friend,

I barely know her today,

IMed- “I will give you a call”-

certainly I will, to hear her tirade,

though it will be different this time,

she is shifting to yet another city,

like she left this one behind,

our camaraderie stranded,

in the streets empty,

bereft of her smile


I haven’t been able to write much lately. The weather, the mood and the whole mental and emotional situation along with laziness adversely affected my creative juices. And I have been very much absent from the blog as well.

The prompt today at dVerse is to write a 55 word poem and that is it.