Poems Archive for Contemplative:

as is…

words elude as mind stays on overdrive
yesterday caregiver queried in my mother tongue
about the health of close kin… I replied: nowadays
they mainly reside under my skin
daily i scratch scabs
of grieving heart’s skin
and they pop up for heart to hearts
like so many jacks-in-boxes
well past over the hill
i constantly work overtime
to time still .. in mind, body, will
willfully….excercises in futility
the cross I carry was
put together by me
myself i did it all being
friend, foe to self
not into recriminations
i do turns in imperceptible
degrees, results thereof
being equally negligible
beguiling self came as inherent software
and my virus afflicted soul thrashing in rusty
body – still continues warbling in fits starts
patiently waiting for dying of light
I’ve no desire
to build
any Rome
not ever
I simply
stay resigned
waiting for my beloved
to come get me


have turned
my heart
into a numbskull
with gaping holes
for chambers
oozing grief
and despair
in slipshod
My head
the escape artist
strolls in green
pastures hanging
loose away from customary
thinker pose as it simply
hurts too much
as palms involuntarily
nudge each other
in mute queries
my magic wand
in left hand
in right
I seek
hope’s needle
in apathy’s
through the straws
coming in view
hastily I take a look
to recoil in horror
as myriads
of vacant
eyeballs impale
mine back

Art: Chitra Ganesh

Distant Silhouettes

Journeys made
Some by free will
Few involuntarily

Picture book Prague
Hurled me backwards
Tilted to fairytale magic

At the banks
Of holy river Ganges
Spirit down cast, buoyed

Ashes immersion
God speed farewells
life’s finale

Ancient cities’ souks
Cobblestoned streets
Marching time, stilled

Single universal heart
Strongly beating in tandem
With waves, sands falling

Distant silhouettes stationary
Nature’s frozen music is that
Perfect journey undertaken within

Acceptance for what is, is unquestionably…..


like a jiggle of boxed
lottery numbers
I pull out one
emotion at a time
for reflection…
after a once over
It’s either “yea or nay”
thus pulling, accepting
rejecting…I adjust my
daily mood’s change…
Russian roulette
times call for new
survival techniques
always a rebel…never one
for line toeing, I go for broke…
nails bitten to bone
now ache in dullness
as lusterless eyes scan
skies for better than tepid
bright yolk sun gone missing..
moon is clueless lurking
only when light burns out
stars being small potatoes
don’t count… perhaps I’d better
lend my dumbbells to dullard sun…
Hope bides time around
kitty corners …always necking
with aplomb..patience being it’s middle
name as it’s aware time’s anaconda
shall ultimately swallow everyone


“being alone never felt right. sometimes it felt good, but it never felt right.” ~ Charles Bukowski, Women
anointment of spirit
I let canned soul
stirring mantra
chants enchant
solitude is all it’s cracked
up to be…an oasis of one
being at one with one
yet something is
still missing..
long airy floor-through
has seen me through
countless soul strolls
brisk walking…blank stares
into space in its’ space….
prized Venetian mask
adorning forward looking
wall, impassively glances
winking at me from sightless
sockets…. derisively?
smattering of bereft empty-headed
warm cool berets, beanies, hats
in varied shapes, weaves
shades vacantly stare
at ceiling nowadays…
murder of crows
harbingers of ill tidings
had visited marking passage
of each decade with family
herd’s thinning..
shoulder blades, painfully
blade marking abandonment
by two sole.. elder siblings
who’ve opted for pain-free
other-worldly shores
standing at milling life’s
forked road I come to terms
with “now” life, willing self
to make sanguine choices
“being alone never felt right. sometimes it felt good, but it never felt right.” ~ Charles Bukowski, Women
Photo by Georgian artist Tezi Gabunia’s interactive project “Falsification” ain’t Photoshopped.

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