20171227_153500Sunny days in the winter,

You bask under the rays

while the Earth burns,

breaking the urns


Summers bring memories,

of rain drops hitting My bosom,

yielding new romance;

the droplets dance in trance

but Am shrouded in concrete;

dust and debris of dystopia.

A gust of wind sprints

enough to reveal the imprints


This eclipse may last long

yet I shall spin on my own

lost in the essence

of ever lying Evanescence



Who sits in

front of my bed

All nights long

And so go the days

We stare at each other

I go back to my chores

But he is still there

But somewhere

In my case, he stays

And nothing he pays

Watches me transform

But doesn’t flinch

All day long,

I cook, eat and I clean

I climb on bed in the noon

He watches me sleep soon

I open my eyes

He is there and I shy

I don’t go anywhere

I’ve taken up the challenge


I shall watch y back

I spend days in my bed

I’ve spent thousands here

Watching Buddha in front

Nov 1, 2017

Shine the sun and moon

bright in the yard.

One peeps through the window,

other divulges through the door.

I sit and bask,

until it scorches my skin.

A gentle breeze deflects the sight-

sitting by the window, glows the light

on the mast, coyness in silhouette.

Soon the shadows swoon.

Found the painting somewhere on the internet and attempted.


DSC_0839Gently blows the wind, capsizing all the wild horses

as she glides in the air heedless.

She hops through the potholes,

her flip flops vibrant.

Breeze gets breezier every time

the hem of her skirt  sways.

The rays, hiding in the trunks shower her skin

but turn to ashes yet dance behind her,

hop along her and imitate her wanton ways.

What a fine day to everybody’s dismay,

shoots in a quiet and queer signal,

the leaves in quiver and the grasses shiver;

everything fallen rises to a whirlwind.

She hops and rubs her back against a tree

debris pelt her back and ricochet –

Time heals and the potholes silent.

Sky now dully shines through the potholes,

She collects herself and shakes it off,

splashes and hops in again in





Later, Oct 20 2017

Will it hurt less
if I bury it deep under
Or will it loose flesh
when I don’t butter it
I fear someday
it will fossilize
What will it be
I am Clueless, as I plea
Will you ever dig down
and unravel my Box
I wonder if you will find
the key by your pillow
I smile quenching on tears
A taste of our vast ocean
Will you ever catch me
Sailing in the flood
While standing dry
on the distant shore