Tuesday, 28 February 2017


The winter returns with your thoughts.
Your rhymes warm my lonely mornings:
Coffee is only a mere excuse.
The rose is, otherwise, pretty safe
in the fold of the nineteenth page.
I remember you like another winter.
The perfume has died over time.
What remains is you, your rhymes!


The tomatoes wait for their mistress
on the table of the dull kitchen.
I wait for my fate to act in distress
while she stood with a frying pan.
Her hairs kissed her cheeks
as she moved, hastily, angrily.
I kissed the air in front
and she grew redder than a tong:
she wasn't in mood of romance,
I hadn't read the day's Taurus!

"My mistake was?"
How dared I asked!
She blamed the remote
and the computer still on.
I couldn't utter a word
for all my tricks were gone!

Oh! How beautiful
she looks.
I surrender like a drunk king...
drunk in her red cheeks,
redder than the tomatoes
which wait for her
on the kitchen table,
much safer than me!

Wednesday, 22 February 2017


The Mist drowns Herself
in shyness of Dawn's warmth.
The East promised much
but could She ignore little treats?

One who keeps my Love
untouched by uncertainty
of dreadful Autumn.
Even days sketched on wood
can be so inspiring-
each strengthening my will
to love Him more,
to believe in my East.
Speak to me, O' Mist.
Do you wait for your 
Dawn who brings yellow joy
from the East?
Do you know my East?
He hasn't returned since a year.
The war was his last promise.

I envy your love.
I envy your East!


Are all vampires so dark, evil?
Lust lies in minds of men.
The Sun tries best to dethrone
The Winged Crown of arrogant rodents.


I could not wait but ink
on the commercials of rich cosmetics.
Then I saw your crimson lips.
Love compelled me to break a few nibs.


My past lies in subtle reflections.
How have I changed since then?
The waters tempt me for confessions
Of sins and deeds my Devil had planned!


Time can't win over my will.
A thousand oaths stay in me.
I shall perform although threads betray.
I shall be me, I shan't go astray.
The wrinkles speak of my strength
unlike wrinkle-free Time, weak and faint.
The notes shall always find their way.
Time is only moments, why should I care?


The Angel has been waiting since
I had gone praying.
The Devil then stitched my lips,
said: "God's in hearts, isn't it?"
He then grinned through evil smokes
and I couldn't utter a single word!