Fun, Poetry

Poetryman or better a woman

Men need food, drink, shelter and internet to live,
but they need the myths and mythology to be men.
The god though is abstract and the holy books
are filled with instructive stories instead of heroes,
with the stars losing their sheen in the movies,
big names failing to make as much as their pay,
the world needed heroes who were more than human.

Enters marvel, making even the reluctant become a fan,
as its teams put the nordic and greek god-makers to shame
and when they ran out of ideas included the gods to the game.
What we have now is more superheroes than men,
myths to choose from alphabetic lists that goes over pages
and if not sure you may go for the never ending avengers.

Not trying to be terrible here, I am anything but sincere.
This’s the best I come up with, read my posts if you care,
my friends and followers do, going through this rhyming pain.
Poetry is the damsel in distress, all over wordpress,
what we need is a poetryman or better a capered woman,
a superhero to save it from assaults in the name of prompts.

This post was written as part of the prestigious
The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest


Evolution of the artist

guided by an innate urge to please
equipped with senses exhorting doubts
in the cautious strokes of earnest endeavour
with measured traces striving for perfection
he mirrors the faces conniving with reflection,
unaware of the beautiful yet incongruous nature.

a stickler for structure, enamoured by wisdom
of saints, philosophers and the morbid poets
craft acquired over languid classes
adheres to the norms edified by masses
the cultivated symmetry is a far cry,
wasted on the serene yet erratic nature.

recurrent inspiration and elusive metaphors
laid astray by well articulated arrogance
cruises to far away hills undertaken with fanfares
turquoise sky reverberating on tranquil waters
make him search for witless romance in scrappy affairs,
as he attempts to embellish a graceful yet flawed nature.

the artist is born in affliction not by choice
jerked out of his space by circumstances tragic
for it’s only a devastated soul that transpires surreal magic
the flaws, fractured norms, his foibles now in sight
crooked rivers, errant petals, skewed trees and such once critiqued,
within himself now he sees as he takes the transcendental flight.

Next: Revelation of the artist


Maverick in the infernal tavern

pirouetting silhouettes

chiding the guides

minstrels sing spells

mutilating masses

in mesmerizing lights.

phallic philosophers

partaking paradoxes

belch benedictions

on genuflected generations.

a body nondescript

or a tavern lost in crypt

their netherly wine

tastes mildly of

a heavenly brine

sipping which the heretics

disdain mystics, religion

and such populist designs.

incarcerated souls fight

the reverberating

incantations galore

cringing, craving love

and a freedom promised

beyond the pearly door.

lacerated languid lovers

levitate on licentious lust

making agonizing agnostics

squirm as their prized

convictions go bust.

anguished metaphors

pilfer the reluctant poets

while paraphrasing scribes

pay the unrequited debts.

marveling at such

metaphysical manifestations

the maverick stops writing

this treatise of vice

imbibes the poison amidst guffaws,

and rolls another dice.



Love in the time of social media

when love, emotions and such feelings
were still expressed by the betraying tender eyes
not with twitching fingers making random tinderly swipes
FA fell in love with FD at the first accounted sight
with all his heart, in abandon and seemingly no foresight
she too felt something in her reluctantly stir
her heart missed a few beats but recovered and the affair grew
an unannounced love without likes and comments except just two.

love stories fester
when the lovers run out of ideas
so here we introduce the boy
to the dad, furious that he was
promptly asked the girl to forget
he took her to a land far away
so that the boy couldn’t bring shame
or write poetry to her every other day
love now distant and restrained
resorted to exchange of words on the phone
but the phones meant for romantic talks
betrayed the lovers and became suddenly smart
people started communicated with lols
announced everything from death to farts
time and tide wait for none –
offline, the lovers soon realized
and while he scoffed at the idea
she picked up and got her timeline apprised
books of paper turned into books of faces
ones that came foraging into all human lives
a profile he must create he mused
her timeline though already had a million likes.

meeting after her return
saw love take a different turn
this was a mistake, she said,
your old ways I have no choice
but to hash spurn
you know nothing about hashtags,
tweets or even basic selfies
I need someone presentable,
with following, one of the modern social guys
we must part ways sooner rather than a tweet later
for you don’t even know there exists
something called an instagram filter.

he left with a heavy heart
and heavier cryptic terms
making love he realised has moved from
unfastening to liking with buttons
but he toiled and when he thought
he was getting a hang of this new game
we let JU of the viral videos enter,
one of twitterati with unsurpassed fame.

JU looks at her profile, the selfies and tweets
proposes with fanfare in every media before even he greets
friends, followers, solicitors, well wishers
ask what more does she need
the dad gets to hear about it
even in his customized news feed
so with an unsure heart and a blushing tag
she changes her relationship status
FA watches the update from his blooming account
and hits the like without much fuss.

resolving to make himself worthy
outdo JU but return when the famous has gone
unrequited love drives incessant passions
he soon became master of all social mansions
many a chat sites he visited, many he trolled
he learnt to have an opinion on everything
rabbits, guns, religious debates or whatever did unfold.
with an unrivalled following
many women he seduced
but every update from FD
roused his undying love,
got his libido reduced.

meanwhile the married couple ruled the social sites
making people acknowledge their conjugal bliss even the wedding rites
the days started with breakfast pics and ended with night selfies
not finding the sought love FD though never tweeted the stifled cries
and one fortuitous day fighting his pet peeve online JU fell from grace
got his accounts blocked, choked and was put of the race.

hearing about the demise FA came flying
not forgetting to post a feeling sad at the dying
proposed FD immediately that got rejected vehemently
years of waiting didn’t deter our determined lover
perseverance and persuasion
with the preceding hashes did make a mark
FD united with FA, love consummated
without tags or updates, in the dark
deactivating their accounts
both now floated in the river of oblivion
true love might have won but without a post
it doesn’t register in the grand social vision.
love in the time of social media is not poetry
says PS winking at you, it’s just ESP having some fun.


Limerick of the defiant infidel

Glinting glasses of glaring whiskey
Shining eyes of a shimmering love
Turbulent rings from the trodden temple
Fill me with unanswered questions,
unrelenting they must baffle all, or maybe its just me.
For darkness is my refuge, I thrive on lull of the night
Winds from moon feed me, it’s the dawn that I valiantly fight.

I seek not the truths or the lies,
but the meaningless talks that fill the gaps.
I can fight the doubts that torment,
but for the betraying smiles and the unfinished nags.
A believer in the futility, of love, reason and faith
I look at you, your face, and revel in the chaos
A connoisseur of the subtext I fall in love,
every time there is an uncomfortable pause.

On the broken shards of a hurtful truth,
I walk away from you.
Over the smooth waves of a comforting lie,
I surf away from you.
On the pale moonlit waters of livid doubts,
I dive away from you.
Over the turbulent storms raging in my head,
I soar away from you.

On interpretation, if interested.


Dancer and the knight

Yet another night to show off the body,
she stifles a yawn and puts on the gaudy.
Lurking eyes out in open vie for a better view,
Not much to look forward to, she thinks
it’s always the same motley crew.

She moves as if in a trance,
induced by overuse of derision,
in the monotonic stretch extending
till the last of the tables, the sleazy horizon.
They follow her naked breasts,
and when she bends,
out come the predictable gasps.

And there he is,
the one who looks with surprise,
a mirage is it, or
has she found her knight in disguise.
Why does he come alone,
what draws him here,
not the usual sad, she wonders,
nor is he one with much lust.
Those disinterested eyes
almost out of focus,
urge her to look into them
and be at an ineffable loss.

Tired of indulgence,
of betrayals and the innocuous penance,
he walks in yet again,
the reluctant sinner with self disdain.
It’s the same table,
familiar food, drinks and the people.
Would be a rut,
but for her sensationally bored eyes
concealing it seems a multitude of stories.

He looks at her lissome hips,
the sequined lime G-string,
nipple caps that go with tassels,
but those eyes, not a move he would miss.
And when they meet
moments pass without notice,
surreptitious embraces,
almost never at ease.

Frustrated with himself
more than the crowd,
for asking questions whose
answers he has already found.
He looks away, wishing to be at another place,
or if they could, leave this world with better grace.
Exhausted more with him than the dance,
not giving the answers that he may condone,
she looks away, wishing him forever gone,
or if with him she could live a life of no pretence.


A lifetime, once again…

Immersed in studies,
I let her slip, walk away in the rain.
These cloud laced days evoke her frail beauty,
the strands of unwanted wisdom 
and fleeting glory I would with ease trade,
for another chance, to see her
and live that rainy day once again.

Wise and ready to take on the world
with high spirits I hit the road,
where feelings and emotions
were played with by the lovers aboard.
Its not the booze and the sex that reigned,
but the girl who was frivolously spurned,
that haunts me, oh those unshed tears
make me want to change, and
never be that person again.

When every new day seemed the same,
some started to question life, while
some appreciated the rote and the lame.
When the busy life started taking its toll,
and having fun was no more the call.
It was the tragic, the jolts out of comfort
that got us together even if all sombre,
the fond memories make me laugh again.

When intellect and reason, ennui
start waking the monsters
of futility that creep in, to think or not to be.
These crazy moments conjure the mysterious,
of wasted years with her, amorous neglect.
Burnt kisses that were almost bliss,
when we soared high in the smoke ships.
A lone drag it takes now to take me to that plane
of timeless moments, visions of her lisps,
the stupor makes me sane yet again.

Lying on the couch,
the empty coffee mug on the table
confounds me with these thoughts, for I
never wanted to be a man with many regrets.
I think of her kindness,
the mercies and a closure
of the many unpaid debts,
bringing them to the fore.
She walks in askance,
the lips doing their divine dance,
once again this forgiving smile forces me
to fall in love all over again.