poetry

How it ends

Flowers come to mind for some reason

poppies, cactus in December

spaces silted with darkness

I didn’t know I liked the Sun

Until today

     A multi- coloured chart without boundary

The day

Not quite dawn.    The plain white stare.

          I go out for walking

somewhere along with my loneliness

narrow streams running through

decayed tooth

River water mixed with my eyeballs

Somewhere is

Someone

saying my poems?

Traces that stir

the waves of an old affair.

All day is stoic,

At dusk i wake with eyes wet.

I carry that and go off to bed again.

poetry

People like light rays, leave.

People like light rays, leave- Inspired by Sylvia Plath

______________________

Between the ribs,

arched,

the glow disappears into a surreal thing.

A wavy black mirage appears on a crushed paper

/  the piquant distance now,

    Slipping between the cellulose air of void/

 a mayhem of loose threads,

a dawn kisses by a hurricane,

Will things occur in heart now?

Or will the sit and devour the morbid mind?

Copper fields,

of dust- laden mouths

filled with anger/ sins,

Oh humanity! The disavowal of sodden eyes,

almost each night, in darkness.

People like light rays, leave.

_________________________________

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poetry

Sunburn

Where do I stick flowers now?
The empty faces,
the mundane eyes.

The silhoutte of a dark river
shifting its path across my face,
turn by turn;

Where do I paint red shades of sunset now?
A myth of potpourri,
a lake of setting cold nostrils.

I pray and repeat my rituals,
a soothsayer of my belly now,
a tale forgotten.
A night of crippled stars.

Where do I sit and attach these sunflowers now?

poetry

Streak

There, beyond the ripples of mouth,
lovers sits & communicate,
through the sprint in their lashes,
flutter of springs.

a translucent shadow defies time.
for that particular moment.
small things begin to dilate.
too much convulsions,
temperature drop, wrinkled grass land.

A grasshoper watches sky detonating.
laughters circulating the wobbly afternoon.
A visceral face expanding.
There are marks.
marks on the filtered earth,
A wasp of Lilith neck.

Lovers scamper across the evening sky,
floating through the oasis of skin,
flesh, promises, a picture to repeat the art.
the shapes that attach like clay.