Archive for autobiographical:

rainy August 4 2017

Memories reminisces
Add zest and spices
To these dog days
of summer not very nice
~
Sepia smudgy photos
Keep turning up ~ misty
eyed I hungrily stare …
heart squelches in toto
Such is weft
of love loomed
Woven
Life

..

painting: Van Gogh

bruised

you silly one
you are simply an organ
crazily beating
often missing beats
going out of sync

go on head
laugh at me
yet love is
what keeps
me going
..
granted
you are overly
lathered by love
but tis both your saving
grace and downfall
..
I know ‘cos when I
love..I give it my all
taking a leap
of faith diving
headlong

see where it’s gotten
you ..sore of heart ..bruised?
concede ..consult me first
before you go into further forays
driven by foolish rushes
..
uh huh…not happening
so what if am tad hurt
licking bloody wounds..it’ll
heal …but this heart will
never ever come to heel !
..
Go on then..be hoist
on petard of your own making
henceforth never come crying to me
when bruised ..cold shouldered..know
world is not what your heart feels
..
fine… agreed
let me love, fail, love again
get mauled .. tis a reward in itself
my love rivers at will and fear
of hurts will never cause it’s still
..
let’s part in peace
residing as we do in same beat up
body..you worry over your own topper
I’ll nurse and console myself by myself
solely recalling exhilarating peaks
..

image: google

Kabuliwala

as
I form your name
in my mouth ..rolling
it over my tongue
wan feeling of loss
boa(s)
around mind
..
I
wistfully long
for bygone wonder
years …
scintillating memory
pebbles burnished
by midday sun
..
swirling shape
conjured out
of time’s bottle
sees me running
full tilt heeding
your daily
call
tiny fists exchanged coins
for your mouthwatering
baked rolls and buns
dusted by powdered sugar
I bit into impatiently and the white
mustache that formed on my face
made us both gurgle delightedly
Kabuliwala: your name spelled
exotic spices, green almonds
sundry dry fruits especially apricots
“khumaanis” and my tiny mouth
would drool all over again while mom
cherished guchhi, Dingri for concocting
delicious rice pulao filled with dry-fruits
your crooned songs
mixed with old Hindi songs
still steal into heart, mind
in pensive moments
making me homesick
all over again as eyes
involuntarily river
old Silk route, Khyber
Pass, Hindukusch mountains
hold a firm sway over this vagabond
heart roaming ancient soils, pausing
in time stilled old modern caravanserai
hotels, motels sleuthing clues on treasure
maps aching to arrive: where it all began
**wild, rare nutritional fungi crop known for its medicinal value. Guchhi, or morchella esculenta, a mushroom variety *Dingri is dried mushroom also called Kumbh
images are from google only

and then he left…

after sticking for years
like super glue
one day he upped
and left
his body lay supine
mind wandered elsewhere
I ran to check his toiletries
in the bathroom
all were there
even the toothbrush
was moist
only he’d left
without leaving…
non-plussed
I kept plucking
petals singly
mouthing “he loves
me, he loves
me not”
till time us both
forgot
..

Face Off ? on?

how do I face
self in mirrored
appearances ?
90% dead ringer
of dear departed
dad, siblings
sighs escape
from parted lips
involuntarily
I share
what makes
me tick
schtick, tickles
of mind, spirit
heart’s cockles
cackling
on daily basis
I awl scalpel ego
crimson persona
obdurate rotund form
continue face-offs
wooing
beloved is ongoing
par for the course
..
never off course
am DNA’ed
thus

Next Page »