What can be worse than the complete agony of being in love? Yet what could possibly be a more enriching experience? Some of these entries arise out of the euphoria of first love and the rape of innocence; the rest reflect the musings of a more mature poet: one who is compelled to accept the absurdity of the transient world, but has the courage to romance it nevertheless. At times it is not even poetic... too brutal to be so. But therein lay the catharsis: purgation of life’s follies.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
MISSING YOU IN BENGALI
There will be no my side of the bed or the wardrobe
Somewhere sometime soon you shall no more
Miss me in Bengali or in any other tongue
Sunday, September 05, 2010
INSOMNIA 3
A softly heaving silhouette
Of dark against dark
Curled and wrapped in a blanket
I presume the usual frown
Is frosted with sweat beads
The familiar twitch around those lips
travels down your limbs
The heavy breathing needs
an adjustment of the pillows
But sleep on my love
And let us rise to a new morning
Sunday, August 22, 2010
S&G&R
Up a flight of stairs
And vanish round the corner.
Often a smile, a nod.
"I have a photograph.
Preserve your memories
They're all that's left you"
Sunday, July 25, 2010
UGLY
That is not you
You would never love him
Sour cigarettes and heartburn
Mottled leaves in green bottles
That was home sweet home
Heartthrobs and heart throbs
They shall cut this tree too
Rain, rain, pour
Thursday, March 11, 2010
ON LIVING A COMPROMISE
Thirty makes you wise
30 allows fooling yourself knowingly
Confusing love with habit
Cohabiting without love
Thirty turns you moody
Thirty gives you whims
30 gifts you blues: to paint your toenails
In ever-changing hues
Ever-changing ruse
Thirty brands you tired
Thirty says you’re spent
30 gets you sick: throw up on mush
Only to live again
Only to love again
Remains of the day 2
Eyes twinkling, smiles bright
A champagne flute lay broken on the floor
Buy cheese, buy squash
The carpet needs a wash
More lists more chores more life
Remains of the day
Are all rusted, spent
But, unlike love, still real
Now I sleep not too well
With funny scary dreams
Disquieting images of
Bonfires in catacombs
Lady T
She shadows me everywhere
Waiting and watching
Shrewdly whispers in moments
Of weariness: hoping to reap
Her harvest
I laid in her arms once
We were almost one
Anti-peristalsis
Thus I jilted Lady T
But she be patient
The end is soon and she
Would surely bed me in
The END