No longer cautious,
rekindled camaraderie,
turns into precious blooms
while adult friendships
abandon Solitude ~
it sneaks a hasty retreat.
This Evening
This evening is a poem,
a tree-lined, green, colourfulÂ
Poem I carry homeÂ
in my back pocket.Â
Nothing Personal
Our lives merge.
Child of a desert land,
bearing wounds unseen:
an arid soul
bleeding out.
It’s nothing personal.
Prayer of the Ingrate
My stomach heaves
with an unidentifiable ache,
It isn’t hunger.
I shut the menu-bearing screen.
Mimosa Day
The corridors of my mind’s stretched,
stretched elastic were my cab’s windows
into the beyond.
My Book
Connect With Me
Popular Posts
Men Without Women ~ Haruki Murakami
Murakami’s construct leaves all of his stories open to a myriad interpretations, and that’s the beauty of his narrative.
He manages to etch distinct characters in each of his tales with remarkable dexterity and the Murakami mind observes quietly, much like the Lamprey, who live off life itself. I was agog by the sheer brilliance of an imagination that defies coherence yet draws you in, makes you believe.
The Firebird ~ Saikat Majumdar
Majumdar writes with great sensitivity- delving deep into the young lad’s mind, drawing from both the light and the dark that exist in tandem within. Ori senses the resentment his mother’s stage life provokes in others around him, the family and neighbours.