Needle pierces skinBlood dries black on broken heartThe mark remains there etched #haiku
Tag Archives: Poem
The sculpture is being made
New placenew beginnings a blank new slatethe sun is lateit’s morning not yetbut I am wide awakeIts a fresh patha new trailthe one, I need to blaze every stumble taught a lessonevery fall a chisel strokethis sculpture is being madethe future is blurred but in my mind it’s clearit’s for me to create
Ghost with long hands
Saw a ghostWho had long handsI wondered what use were theyWhat would it touch It would seep through the wallsGlide through the doorsMelt through allWithout a worry as such But with such long handsIt felt awkwardWith them danglingWith no way to feel or touch It was happy oneBut the long handsScared a few a littleAndContinue reading “Ghost with long hands”
Tera mera rang
रंग होतुमसे भरागुलाबी, पीला और लाल संग होअपना हमेशाहर पल, हर साँस, हर हाल ढंग होतुममें ढलाबस तुम्हारा एहसास, तुम्हारा ख़याल भंग होसब बैरबस हो रंग, ना कोई मलाल रंग होना तेरा, ना मेराबस गुलाबी, पीला और लाल
Then they are one
Turbulent joins calmFroth and mist marks the confluenceThen they are just one #tankatuesday
Priceless joy
A Priceless joyPurchased for a paltry sumFor you forever #wdys #whatdoyousee
Yes, I snoozed and sinned
I slept againpast the dutiful alarmpast the chirping birdsway beyond the slanting morning raysslept with no dreamslike a loglike twisted vinesburied in the quiltto shield the meddlesome lightif that’s a crimefeel free to sue mebut quietly pleasedon’t wake me
Demure – yet not
DemureShe sitsNone of the hair frayed Flashs of colourpeeks throughThe prim dull greys The naughty and wildSecurely hiddenReigning in the crave What the cloths hidewhat lies in the mindThe eyes betrays #TankaTuesday #Ekphrastic #Poetry Challenge No. 308, 2/21/23
My worn out Shoes
My worn out shoesholds many memoriesEmbedded and buriedDeep within its weary sole Witness and participantIn those resolute and thoughtful stepsOf the many tough treksAnd some easy strolls Scrapping the groundRaising the dustTo propel me forwardto play my rightful role It lays tatteredWounded and batteredWith Splayed stitchesAnd some ghastly holes Yet comfortableIn a neat fitMoulding andContinue reading “My worn out Shoes”
Achu – The Mahout
My father turns 84. He celebrates the thousand full moons. He had a childhood dream of becoming a Mahout. He celebrates his 84th birthday with his wife who turns 75. AchuThe young MahoutIs all of 84 For this young heartThe ageIs just a mere score Bathed freshIn milky light of thousand moonsHe is up forContinue reading “Achu – The Mahout”
My Tales Within 