Maths.

“I am walking at a speed of 6 kilometres an hour.  You start after ten minutes and walk  At a speed of 8 km, How long will it take For you to overtake me?” Those sums  Were your favourites. Along with the tank  That rarely got filled and sometimes  Overflowed. How I hated that morning…

To the crow

I used to hate crows, scavengers of the earth squawking, snatching, swamping the skies when one died, shot by that stray bullet frightening us into the house. But then you said that crows were good that when they eat the food offered to the dead it is as though the dead have returned. Since then…

To the stranger in the dark.

Faces change over time grow up and move away But eyes? Eyes remain the same, windows to all that was. I think I see you cross the road our eyes meeting only for a second to move on, obscurity measured in a single glance. Maybe you too thought I was someone you knew from another…

Old wounds

There was a wound near the ear  That never healed. Each evening I would change the dressing The blood never stopped its flow.  He would not wince, even As I applied disinfectant trying  To be as gentle as possible,  As softly and as far as I could go.  His eyes glistened with pain and tears …

Abandoned.

A little girl sat on the swing set When I took the dog before dawn. I almost missed her quiet face But the moon was still in form Her face was streaked with tears In her hands she clutched a cloth With which she tried to cover her face Fear upon her visage wrought.  I…

This song

This song was lost On the beating wings of a white dove, In the crying eyes of a failed love, In the helplessness of a hushed cry, In the silences of a dense sky. In every heartbreak I have owned. The song was star-crossed But the lone dove found a place to rest, Lovers stopped…

No poem today

I will write no poem today I will just chill, not fret about meter And spend the morning Nursing my coffee and Sudoku. I will not write a stanza today No deep thoughts to construe, No yearnings to express… No quatrain or haiku. I will binge-watch a TV show About haunted houses or spies And…

The poem I was writing

Died a senseless death The body waits In the crowded funeral homes For the rich In lime covered mass graves Of the poor Tortured and twisted In the agony of birth Breathless and blown By gathering storm clouds The cadaver awaits A decent burial.

Cages

I did not wring its neck, but The blue budgie died by my hand When I opened the gate of the cage,  Where it stayed on the balcony.  A crow pounced on it all at once Ripped it to shreds while I cried  Struck with horror. I was a toddler But I already hated the  cage.  …