Wednesday, April 27, 2011


Red windmills,
Claustrophobic skies
Reporting from some despot nadir
I hear you...I hear you hard...
Pitter-patter of baby feet
Growing into the clicking heels
And then the suffusing blush...
Oh,the plush tail will wag some day
The rainbows will clear,
I will try to remain estranged...
The war will soon come to a cease,
Everybody waddles back home
After the fight to save the dream,
But the dream will twist and bend,
And push me another way...

But the lane my room overlooks
Whispers my name...
Follow its trail,
I will be your stranger till the end.

And I will wait,

For you, till the world is safe...
Pray the toothache and heartache to rest,

Fly back,little thing...
Fly away.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Dear Grace...

Under a microscope of frozen tears,
Through the milliseconds of remaining endeared
Heads of defied opprobrium,
I will rise to know you again.

There quiver the hollowed succinct leaves
Spitting a raindrop into your eyes,they seek
A wisdom of the machiavellian pianist---
I fall, they cry, you breathe, they die...

Where the sun will go down on the short years.
I will shout across the backyard,
A clothesline being shred by the shards
Of a broken microscope
And a rosette of farce,
Admit it, you hate me
Because I can see those tears...

Vanilla cones and pop-corn brunch,
Plastic smile,I still see them veneered...

Then the upended faces of fallen facades,
Billowing in the caved-in draft of ignominy,
But a silly rupture of giggles in the dark
A jolt of "who's there!"
And you will rise again to know me...

And hate me or love...
You will follow me...