killing innocents for what?

may you burn in hell
killer of children
you took away their choice to live
you ignored the panic in their eyes
you did not listen
you did not talk
you, as always just killed
how can you get high on blood and gore
that too of innocent children
no sweat flowed from you
only bullets, only bullets

yet you forgot
if you snag even one life
thousands will rise to incinerate you
you deserve nothing less for diffusing the stars

dusk is but a chimera

that spacecraft is waiting
planets are aligned
let me tread slowly into space
but first I must tangle with you

call me a lunatic or a loser if you must
you are aware I have to spread my wings
one of my endeavors to explore the beyond
leaving behind my very own angel

I am forever spinning into dreams
whatever you say, I won't sway
I will come back someday
born on a Christmas day

"that crowd is akin to shroud
I wish for silence to be loud"

soulfully I stare at nothing....

what chains tie her
what deranged mind did this
the haze in the mind chains her, 
the strain has almost deranged her
lying there, she thinks of filet
hunger does not allow to feign pride

enflame, her eyes burn
she shivers wishing for her cape
thoughts of rescue help sustain
while we exchange glances
she will not cave in
that is not an option at all

my story is all so false,
she chose to lie on the bright floor
surrounded by floral walls
to be photographed as a victim
of domestic violence
or maybe something else

"words turn around the mind.
helplessly we give in"

spirality

Bond of Union, 1956, by M. C. Escher 

your gaze drops from mine
and my skin burns
in that breeze we both slowly disintegrate
the splendor of the gathering palls

I re-collect the scattered sounds
and put them in my wallet
you are bent double
your pain does rattle in a staccato

in the contemporary world
it is so plain that no one is able
to understands the import 
of being a secular

I and you entwined brokenly 
in the debris of religious bigotry

soulful lingering

in the highway
subtle is a misnomer
fresh palate hints of sex
toasty thrill of lingering soul
yields but a mix of emotions
speeding tends to the palpitating heart
I burn in the darkness
in the deep stark night
something flickers
everything so silent
except you sitting by the candles
sound of your breathing drives me insane

I close my eyes
my mind travels again on that highway
yet nothing can take away the subtle whiff  
of lingering sex. not while you sit so still..

chaotic

such a singer that owl
his eyes shine in the dark night
his fervor does not find favor with me
as I am at crossroads
all my plans in the mud

birds may symbolize freedom
I do not see a thread of it
in that owl's song
maybe I should let it sit on the crocus
or a rose or two

"the thorns would stop his singing
but the flowers would commit suicide"

marking time

standing underneath the wind chimes
I contemplate about the future
I get over my grey thoughts
as the rain no longer sounds like dirge

I think of you, feel a spark of joy
the sun sees my spilling happiness
and dispels the cold
the birdbaths sway as I find my way to you

no jaded feeling can slash me now 
your mere presence is enough
I have waited a lifetime
I can wait a few more hours

a mirage, a reality-
doesn't matter--
if one wishes for togetherness till eternity

In the chaos, I desire peace

she stands there wearing strange socks
speedy recovery from a frivolous illness
looking at the surroundings
I almost have an apocalyptic vision

the inklings of that echoes in my literary works
gnarled roots do not go with healthy poppies
such a weird thought, 
a passing fancy of desiring thorns.

with an audible sigh,  
I dread her entry into the teens
thirteen going on thirty
I go blue in the face thinking.

"she standing in the midst of chaos-
such an apt epilogue for the goings in my mind"

dance of freedom

crazy emotions dance with glee
a shadow of childhood is glimpsed
I can't play a martyr-
not to you, a complete stranger now
why are you preaching like a seer?

I am alone maybe, not lonely-
why wonder what secret makes me go-
why are you astounded by my laughter?
remember, it is the steel in me
that you never could see.

"I will not be a prisoner of the past
while the future shines like a diamond"

Reflectivity

such a tease in that mirror

with hypnotizing eyes

no gimmick there
just that the flesh has a mind of its own
it only listens to lust

such a torture for both our brains
but I am not going to chicken out
my mind trains itself discipline
it is not uniform thought
i am no machine

"let me rub lotion on me
a mundane task in the river of emotions"

what reaches out...does anyone know?

Keith Haring 

my eye catches the heart in you
I bend to it
there is no limit to hold those parts
I want everyone out of my way
our way gives on to east lane

what if no one believes?
there is still a grain of truth 
it is in that straight line
yet randomly held by a thin thread
sound is but silent

if only your heart was a painting,
I would be in it
delineated yet distinct
you watch from afar
aloof to all but yourself

"that thud in your heart echoes in mine miles away.
miles away."

calling into the ghosts

an image or an apparition
blind to the ragged rain 
a wavering candle hidden beneath a cape
ghosts call for blood
as he runs to the foot of the hill
arms akimbo blind to everything other than to escape
a mission impossible to achieve

"if only it was just as simple to run away from inner fears"

reflecting a random thought

countless dreams-
I don't wish to chase any now
I would rather follow the sturdy terrain
continue paving the way to that field where
the scent of the flora beckons me

I propel forward by an unknown force
and lean against a tree to gather my breath
the jovial wind touches me with fluid movements
the hard earth underneath my feet steadies me
yet I am distracted by a nameless something

"at least I won't be needing my pills tonight
I am already so high on nature"

all that paraphernalia

I survey before me
stuck in there
a display for donations
treat for some eyes maybe
my smile is fixed
I can't laugh anymore

take me out of here, mate
I have a meeting in few hours
listen to my heart flutter
while pigeons squeak in the background
north or south
do I really care?

let me climb down
before my face explodes
and you see that in a news report tomorrow
on second thoughts
I will stay here
let the meeting come to me

"walls are what we build to be secure
then why do we feel that loss of freedom?"

a forgotten past

in the regency era-
they with alabaster skin
ask for bread.
such graphic images,
with plastic smiles-
we observe the chaos.

a force, not a disaster,
follows people, even into the mines,
within the minds.

"falling from that altitude will result in incognimity,
but for now let us serve you better"

in between feeling

 a clumsy attempt to fly
dreams land on the sharp edge of axe
shattering sky can't make her vanish
clouds settle to listen to her pleas
no amount of name calling can bring her down
in her suspended state
no one can rub into her thoughts
sky melts into her
droplets fall on the ochre ground
how she desires a snowed feeling
as she cuts the clouds with a knife

"atmosphere seeps into her skin-
making her oblivion a mockery"

circled aura

clipping my wings
you have nailed me to the wall
those serving spoons have more life

crucified, you might think
I will be worshipped for my eyes
I wish to break free like a blackbird

broken yet with an aura
I savour the moment of standing tall
see that glow on my facade

moonless night has no light...
you cannot see me play dead
a pretension of sorts

I promise I will arise from that ghastly wall
that aura will follow me around

dappered & tappered

The King of Cats, 1935, Balthus 

swayed by his determined cat
he turns this way and that
his gaudy clothes swear deeply at him

papers tumble briefly on the floor
by a single flick of his wrists
limbo sets in the moonlit room
now he stands still as fragile as porcelain

his cat may chant nonsense
by looking askance
the yellow pants start to dance

"dapper was never an issue
go, get me a tissue"

desperate measures

Lee Plaza Hotel, Detroit, photo by Bonnie Beechler

in that room, before the war
there was laughter
which turned my legs to jelly
a paradise that we all miss

row and then another row
of broken rooms
no one to catch the debris
who will celebrate the trip to hell

who will bake a platter of tiny cakes
now my mouth has gone cotton
I have catch in my voice
I will gargle with warm water boiled with basil leaves

all is definitely not lost
war or strife, as long as there is a single human
there will always be life

"I am settling down in front of that television
so what if I lost my vision?"

lion of things

I guess you are not my type
I do not like easy preys
how did I escape from that cage-
now I am at the mercy of the moon
my mane is matted
right now I am not hungry
but when my body needs fuel
it will trigger me to search for something to assault
my list is not long
I will rest a while
It will be six am soon
I do not wish to go on a rampage
not when I have you to guard

I can still hear the music 
and I will make a play for it
if you allow me to touch your organ.

the blue sky and the earth are my witness
while the moon looks on 
or is that the sun?

"guess, I had a mixed double"

in the dreamland, words are wasted

Poet's Sleep, 1989, by Chang Houg Ahn 

bring me scrambled eggs
and a big mug of hot chocolate
I am so high on sleep now
there won't be a single peep
until you return
you don't need a stick to prod me with
I am in full form
trust me, words will come
I will fill the pages
it is neither a trial nor a test
let the sleep run its course
before it gets blown out by your arrival

reflected in the window
that table lamp gazes over me
while I absorb the book beneath my head

universal truth

Universal Studios Lot, Instagram by sessepien 

you need to be brave enough
to rent an apartment with steep staircases
but with your low wages
you can only support yourself like this

you can have a time frame
to go for something better without fail
before the mind plays tricks
of you being safe in such a place

later ought to come early
you must not let the virus party on you
you can always buy a bicycle
and cycle away to the court

"bricks will not fall apart
if we hold those with strong mortar of our will"

poured out my skin

Photo credits: Magpie Tales

I grasp the invisible barrier
pluck at the stream
gather the flow of routine

I am not the gutsy type
(my body has marks of burden)

"that list mentions a ring
but where is the ringmaster?"

~~~~~~~~~




This short poem poured out of me. Just like that. It may seem meaningless but it made sense to me....

tiptoed synergy

synergy of my toe 
along with the keys of the piano
you sense a balance in the bucolic settings
yet you miss that alternate edge
one that has the potential to open me up
the tiptoed alter ego
that former self
those hanging threads others could see
but not you
never you
the bellowing curtains soothe the windows

in a while the crimsons dots will fall on the piano
only then you will know of my stiffness

I chose it this way
to play the keys while I go
holding on to music till the last breath

"soon stark death will stare you on the face"

raking in snowed time

The Mill, 1964, by Andrew Wyeth 

snow has embraced time
in a mill in the countryside
thin strands of ice fall on my head
foiling my plans to write on the frosted glass
let nature facilitate more plans
how else would the the mill workers sustain?
a state of helplessness would be their undoing-
an aspect no would like to see

"I do not wish watching you juggling the wheelbarrow-
not while you are a shadow of a long lost ghost.
who sent that anonymous note, I not know"

instrumental wash up

Musician in the Rain by Robert Doisneau 

I will not play for a few trinkets
you may pull your cap and turn your back
I will not curl my toes
and bend backwards for a few coins

I carry that umbrella to lift up my spirits
yet my instrument nests under it
how can I neglect the fact that
I can still conjure up a few tricks

"that deep sigh-
what does it convey?
some arrested thoughts in the midst of nothing"

imperfect getaway

La Jument, off the coast of Brittany, photograph by Jean Guichard

in the dead water
I see a calm 
one need not worry about the impact of the storm

when the moon illuminates scenes of havoc
my words haunt me in my pool of thoughts
I wish to be remote

but it is just a random moment
one of those which recedes with water
I need to collect it and price it

I do not wish for scenes to litter my marked area
the green blue ocean may differ with me
now that it is topped with foam

"when your lifeless body finally washes ashore,
I would have gone into hiding"

Dive Into Poetry Challenge 2014

Friends and Fellow poets do check out this 2014 Reading Challenge.

Dive Into Poetry Challenge 2014 hosted by  Serena M. Agusto-Cox of Savvy Verse & Wit

Choose one of the following options to complete the challenge:

  1) Dip Your Toes and read up to 2 books of poetry throughout 2014 and leave the full link to each review (if you have them) in Mr. Linky.

  2) Wade in and read 4-6 books of poetry throughout 2014 and leave the full links for reviews in Mr. Linky.

  3) Dive in and read 7 or more books of poetry throughout 2014 and leave the full links for reviews in Mr. Linky.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 I am a poet and I do read a lot of poetry. Random poetry most of the times from both well known poets and not so well known ones. I can easily "Dive in" but I am keeping my options open. I plan to read many contemporary poets and a few well known ones. Let us see how I fare!  I might as well solicit poetry books too. If you have any to spare, you can send it to me! 

I might as well start listing:

1) Lost Alphabet by Lisa Olstein
2) Robert Lowell: Selected Poems
3) At the Threshold of Alchemy by John Amen
4) Poetic Musings of an Old, Fat Man by Harry E. Gilleland, Jr.
5) An Introduction to Haiku by Harold Henderson
6) Clamor by Elyse  Fenton
7) Renascence and Other Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay
8) The Essential Keats: Selected by Philip Levine
9 Damnatio Memoriae by Michael Meyerhofer
10) Hurrah's Nest by Arisa White

a few stones removed now and there

New York at Night, Vivienne Gucwa

in the cobbled pathway
shadows whisper to me
about your presence
I can't see you in the scarlet night
nor do I see in the day light
but when the sky walks behind me
I feel your caress
a light warm touch of something unknown

spare me a bit, save my sanity
I expect you to come soon
It might seem strange to some
that I await for you
unknown unseen 
to be struck by you

an unlikely pair
one flesh and blood
other no one knows what
there is always a first, isn't there?

"uneven gait is sometimes the destiny
and it is also the periphery vision"

Poetry books read/to be read from 2007 onwards

I am trying to keep a record of the poetry books I have read or going to read. I have read a lot of random poetry and many poets which one won't see here. 

I was going to post this on my book blog but thought it would be better if I post it here on my poetry blog. I welcome review copies of poetry books and recommendations. Feel free to do one or both!

To be read in 2014

1) Lost Alphabet by Lisa Olstein
2) Robert Lowell: Selected Poems
3) At the Threshold of Alchemy by John Amen
4) Poetic Musings of an Old, Fat Man by Harry E. Gilleland, Jr.
5) An Introduction to Haiku by Harold Henderson
6) Clamor by Elyse  Fenton
7) Renascence and Other Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay
8) The Essential Keats: Selected by Philip Levine
9 Damnatio Memoriae by Michael Meyerhofer
10) Hurrah's Nest by Arisa White


2013

The Meaning of Me by Emmett Wheatfall

Blue Collar Eulogies by Michael Meyerhofer

ten poems to say goodbye by Roger Housden

2012

Real Courage by Michael Meyerhofer

2011

Nil

2010

Taste of Cherry by Kara Candito

2009

Selected Poems of Carl Sandburg**
Judah's Lion by Anne Caston**
A House of Bottles by Robin Merril
Magdalene & the Mermaids by Elizabeth Kate Switaj (poetry)
Mainline to the Heart and Other Poems by Clive Matson (Poetry)*
A Climb Through Altered Lanscaped by Ian Parks (Poetry)*

2008

Ariel by Sylvia Plath**
Quiver---Poems and Ghazals by Javed Akhtar
Tangled in Wisteria by J. Andrew Lockhart*
The Sounds of Poetry--A Brief Guide by Robert Pinsky*

2007

A Poetry Handbook by Mary Oliver