Poetry

Red earth smells of love (a repost)

vast expanses

of yellow scorching sand

punctuated by steep

cascading dunes

brave the merciless winds

whistling as they

play an eerie tune

the hunted now a hunter

lovers once, lust to devour

in the vestiges of bitten oases

reincarnating unfinished kisses

they burn with unabashed desires

ailing souls claiming the severed beds

sizzling with fervent fantasies as

ashen smoke rises and the horizon fades

charred mocking lips

in sync with the frenzied hips

a scorching embrace

entwined in abandoned grace

daring the sun, the savage winds and

water offered by hovering wraiths

defying with jeer the couple plumb

into the other’s nectarine depths

disgusted judges, disparaged morals

propel a renewed vigor in gyrating sips

a consuming love, a dance of death

moving fast into whirlwinds of sand

scarlet clouds augur destruction as

blood of the lovers soaks the parched land.

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Poetry

Mirth of the insane (a repost)

When love, that doesn’t remember the dawn,
forever smolders but refuses to burn,
when blemishes in time and space
reek of a festering eternity,
the enervated horizon manages to
shine with the grey shade of insanity.

Rambling on in the fjords of a bruised ego,
and the confounding shores of dusky scruples,
battling the waves of a rising conscience,
a shattered mast, a tattered sail, an unanchored life,
yet the despondent crew hang on to faith, undeterred,
intoxicated, by the dark bottles of insanity.

A quiver of nascent ideas waits for a story,
the mesmerizing past, the non-committal present,
a fairy land that longs for a scorching desert,
these crumpled notes in my recycle bin, on the floor,
once that craved for a closure, are exasperated,
as they seek solace in an edifying touch of insanity.

When the kiss of the lover’s lips seems cloying,
making love no longer douses the raging desires,
when the parched throats seek no wine,
and sips of the pinot evoke the same sweet faces,
when the gods start to seem too distant to fail,
and your prayers seem impersonal, and almost cruel,
guilt laden bliss is easier to endure, you feel,
in the soothing ignominy of insanity.

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Poetry

Moving on (a repost)

Blinding and brilliant, love at first sight
takes much longer to lose than you think it might.

It’s not the memories, the agony or the remorse,
what kills you is the resistance,
and the indolence,
of a languid heart that you blame,
but deep down you know it’s the brain,
that is always reluctant to indulge in refrain.

To enjoy the pleasure of hellos,
you know, one must go through parting.

But when subtle differences
take the shape of unassailable chasms,
and you see the futility of explaining,
what you feel is not what they call pain,
but is a gnawing, indifferent aching.

Sarcasm is fluid in this state of mind,
making you wince at the sound of laughter.
They say you have become silent,
while the myriad voices inside you scream –
regret and apology never go hand in hand,
or that you need bravado or courage to take a stand.

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Poetry

Photography, an art? (a repost)

Images that tell vibrant stories
of far away sun bathed mountains
the cloud soaked verdant valleys
humbled eternity facing the vast azure skies
those unsung garish yet tranquil monasteries.
Images that conceal the artist
a visage reminiscent of long forgotten tales
a moon reflecting on the turbulent dark seas
shuddering shutters attempt to capture the evanescent
lustrous flashes strive to unfold the obscure events.

Snipping magic from the monotonic time
moments chosen by whim
or maybe thoughts nebulous
lenses make sense of the world.
Elaborate tales condensed in a single shot
discordant sonnets meticulously sutured
erratic life and the nuances subtly proffered
understand the artist or the work, do we?
if only we could see the way it was meant to be.

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Poetry

Words (a repost)

 

Dazzled by the beauty,

they are failed by the words.

Recovering and in pursuit,

they keep their feelings veiled by the words.

Romance they indulge in,

but are curtailed by the words.

Entranced in love,

they forget the roses but are bailed by the words.

Instead of happily ever after at the end,

they listen to the silence of the words.

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Poetry

Path to redemption (a repost)

As the jaded emotions stir
letting out wisps of fantasy
vignettes from the past look glorious
fading vistas arouse feelings queer
entrancing thoughts make him trail
only to be nudged forward
waking him up with a familiar fear
tired eyes reluctantly open to find
multitudes marching on for a cause unknown
tremulous with highly strung octave.

Shackled with pervasive conceit
straggling at the desultory march
road to perdition seems long for his aged feet
a night of reckoning questions the
choices made, the resorted weakness
and the accompanying arrogance
a prophylactic catharsis
and the concluding dance.

How does he promise allegiance,
an unquestionable faith
with the doubts lurking in
every nook, every corner of the infinite self
an incomprehensible world
with its deceit, caustic and relentless wit
armed with nothing but an acquired intellect
it’s a farce to commit eternal love
when he doesn’t remember or even surmise
everything that happened in his life
for he was rational but never so wise.

The fickle abandon with flair
heretic if you tame the restive faith
the egotist seeks happiness within
romantic if you love without reason
judged and branded for living the sins
midway in the protest, he stops short
and finds his soul dance and rejoice.

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Poetry

The story of life

My poem got published on Sudden Denouement Collective. It is a great collective of writers and artists, each with a unique style and aesthetic, including me 🙂

The story begins
not in the present,
not with any intent,
but in the mind of the writer,
lost, perusing his tomes,
as he creates a new history
with words filtered through
experiences and such
prismatic domes.

Continue to read here.

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