Tag Archives: My verse


I look down at the milling crowd

I see you, that tiny black dot

Standing six feet above ground

Yet, several feet below me.

As you will always be.

What will become of you?

She said, don’t miss me so much…

It breaks my heart to think

What will become of you

When we are no longer



Let me remember how to live

Before the end of tonight

Let me be what I can never be

In a crowd

Let me see new, hear new and feel new

My home, the silence and the peace

Let my heart stay young

And beat its most

Tonight I shall want to make discoveries

Tonight I shall want to take memories

Tonight I shall want to

Tell myself, “I love you…”

Past, the prostitute

Her breath smelling of trouble

She worded words of allure

Timed to fall in step beside you

And your mind in probe.


Lashes dainty in invite,

Her eyes widen

With the promise of secrets.


Selling her ware she jeers,

“Just venture…you won’t regret”


And regret you do

when you made trouble

Not love.


You the Present ought not

To have copulated

With Past, the prostitute. 

Dead Death Died

Death is a busy affair.

Tears wiped away in haste,

Last respects to the feet

Rites and tradition dictate

How the unseen soul shall

Pass over.

Uncomfortable, unnecessary, understanding

Shall rain over head. Shall not mean anything

But a silent prayer to put

Death a little away.

A tumour grows today,

In the place where you grew…

There will be more blood,

Than which I fed you…

Will your hands,

Fully formed today

Wipe the stain away?


No, you sentenced me to be carried away

Through the gutter’s length

In the backyard of my daughter’s house.

You stole from me, my right to leave

In a palanquin, through the front door,

Of your house, my wretched Son!

You are the tumour that,

I bred with so much pride.

You were my Son.

And I am your Mother.

Within Sight; Out of Mind.

There were two things,

A window, and a small mirror.

Through the window came,

Your face and voice

Far and distant.

As distant as the look,

My face in the mirror wore.


The floor

Glide was all she did. Never raised a brow, though

The floor after all, rose. Only to fall

Beneath her step.

Not today, not anymore

She will have to step down and,

Fall dead. On the same floor-

That now refused,

To break her fall.


Suddenly there came a spark,

Light and quick its steps fell

Undetected, till it set aflame

The desire to recapture

That sense of selfish supremacy

The fire rages, brilliant is its job

But, brilliance too begins to ebb, but

Not here in the infernal obsession of the moment

Here, the obsession works harder

Than the frantic commands on their way

Through nerve endings drugged with the “I”

What will turn tables, and

Let the commands cover the distance

To crush the Ego, haunting a raging soul?


The next trial will find newer people

And burn the archaic for

The sin of familiarity

The new will anhilate the pain

The wasted have gifted me…

Remains of a future

Broken in a glass.