I have searched for you under many a mulberry moon; perused an onion, for what better way to learn a thing or two about intricacies than to look through your eye? Take it. Take my wholesome poems and devour as fruit, we pay up to a certain extent when we… Read more“For Carol Ann Duffy”
Category: Present-Day Poems
Crashing, frothing, ebbing, the tide carries them away
I want to say something haunting about the tossing white waves; but all I can think about is blood staining the walls of Palestine— orchards severed, paper, pencils, pretzels and shuddering breath not always visible; May is a wound festering, can you feel it? Photo credits:… Read more“Crashing, frothing, ebbing, the tide carries them away”
Nectar in a sieve of men
I have met a lot of men while navigating the waters of the world; soft sky above, soles upon smooth stones and clouds scattered as chips of an eggshell—a little bit of advice, life is hard, so laugh a lot, eat mulberry jam and just follow your instinct. There is… Read more“Nectar in a sieve of men”
To what length surreptitious moon
From archives – dated June 14, 2018 Somebody once asked me, what is the moon? Does it feel our pain? Does it observe stories as one expects it to? I wish I’d known the answer, I wish I’d known the truth. Perhaps it’s filled with woe which preys upon the… Read more“To what length surreptitious moon”
Untitled (treading along the grasses of reverie)
Her kiss tastes like every dark thought I’d ever had, vanta black bewilderment as berries within silverness of meadows burst with indignation. The sky flows immortal, soft clattering of clouds where peace once shimmered, what; oh what eats away, sighing, stretching still along the banks of a temple that’s thrown… Read more“Untitled (treading along the grasses of reverie)”
With a flitting blush, elucidate
Dried lotus seeds. Like esoteric, simmer until fully soft and powdery; every breath of his corroborates to distinctive flavour of pandan leaves, stir gently— sweet potato flour thickened by whispers, a strangely delicious taste; our lips speak of broken boundaries under the flower moon. (Lotus seed… Read more“With a flitting blush, elucidate”