GRACEFUL WAS NO LONGER IN FASHION

that tattoo was a riot
numbers inscribed in its midst
spoke of decay of a bygone era
GRACEFUL WAS NO LONGER IN FASHION
bygone era gave way to a decayed one
numbers danced with glee
rioting in that tattoo art

this journey started the right way

if you ever change your mind, give me a ring
we’ll check out the weather to take out the boat
carrying food, clothes and other essential things
go out into the sea, whirring away we float
sleeping it out on the boat, soaking the sun in
to prevent from skin burns, I put up a shade
applying lotions, sunscreens on your fair skin
so soft, so smooth to touch, as velvety as suede

If you rather not we will go to the beach
watch the sea waves so beautifully blue
against my better judgement I slowly reach
out, pulling you into me to love all of you

just when you ask me to take you back to land
reaching for your finger, I push in the gold band!

feasting in that crescent-shaped cove

they tell me
that I ask seven to share my supper
citing reasons for their presence,
elaborating on the menu
maybe also have a good time
serving that dinner

I ask who are they
to tell me whom to have on my table
and why seven?
why not only you and me
eating more than food
from each other's plate

I abandon my mind
pick those platters of food,
walk down to the copse
where I know you await me
in that crescent-shaped cove
hidden by those trees

sheen of your sweat pulls me in-
when skin tastes from skin
I fall right into you
ants feast on the platters
while we feast on each other

your yellow shirt contrasts with the pillar

either you leave that pillar alone
or I go out of my way to pull you apart
oh, I know you say it's symbolic
I ask of what, you don't answer
I tap my shoes on the ground
playing undiluted music
boxes of my memories fall on it
I also see your shoes lying about
you stand there bare feet
trying to escape into the concrete
I catch hold of your hand
and you disappear into nowhere

I recall from inner recesses-
I buried you under that pillar
in your yellow shirt
but left your shoes alone

fired blue vase

that pale blue vase
made with expertise
captured her essence
when I held it in my hands
I missed her terribly

last masterpiece of his
helped me break his head
that vase qualifying as a weapon
was only a fitting tribute
for all she had suffered

jinxed it might have been for him
when he made that vase,
coloured it blue
fired from her calcified remains
from his own furnace

my revenge being complete
I filled it with daffodils and crocuses
cherishing her memories

ravens chase out thoughts from the mind

someone has sprinkled
crushed dried loaf on the bushes
silvery sugar shines out of it
with much disdain incomparable
these raven black birds
scrutinise with expressionless eyes
before attacking those with a gusto
the birds squint just as soon to search
for moistness to go with the crumbs

distantly I watch all this
my thoughts left to fend for themselves
just like messages left in smoked out green bottles
to set afloat into bottomless ocean
sultry air doesn't allow anything new
to set within my mind's range
apart from observing the clamour for food
the inevitable fights
along with loud cawing

realisation hits me then
it is not you who is away from me
it is me who chose this path to be absent from you

chemical analysis of a poet

my dad fed me with physics
mixing it with mathematics
with chemistry thrown in good measure
anatomy was never in the agenda
my tiny hands held the spoon
tuned in the fork which
resonated with my dreams
scientific jargon was my staple diet
sometimes economics thrown in as dessert
somewhere down the line
I was out in the grounds
when I discovered basketball
when I was not doing numericals
I was playing away to glory
or did yoga to tone up my body
literature came along
to stimulate my mind
jumping from school
I graduated in chemistry
masters in same had me up to the necks
teaching mathematics earns me my bread

now I catch words in some semblance
and call myself a neo-poet

accentuated aura

she holds her head
in the pitch darkness
chaotic purple shades
gyrate behind her eyes
dry tears cascade down-
accentuate abrasive salt
heavy with unsaid words
her throat croaks hoarse

when the circle of light
creates an aura around her
hiding all the pain,
glamour seeps through-
her sweet singing voice
takes everyone into a thrall

journey with destination unknown

battered, mud spattered
that non-descriptive truck
was an eyesore in that highway
unmindful of waleful stares
speedily it went on
its whole chassis reverberating
it had seen better days
for the woman traveller
it had been a life saver
putting a distance between her
and her unidentified chasers
she looked askance at the trucker
whose shook his head slightly
continued with the journey
with destination unknown

each experience was one more story
added to the trucks's repertoire

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Hop on aboard the Poetry Train and have you checked carry on tuesday yet?

white curtains bellow from an open window

white curtains bellow from an open window

the villain has the hero cornered
who manages to escape out a window,
when the bad guy kicks the door
the drapes move wildly

the low streams of Brahms' cello
along with the wind whistling noisily
calms the atmosphere down to a reverie
while the veil ripples gently

white curtains anticipate police catching up soon