Sunday, January 22, 2012

Half a promise

There we were
hurt like lovers
when words sudden and swift
strike its blades
penetrating ribs
cutting open hearts
into equal shuddering palpitating halves
There we were
hurt like lovers
for we were

A sudden
morning of overtures
coloured the day
with cauldron of dreams
minefield of hopes
shimmering in the distance
were half of our hearts
pulled apart
by baggage of loyalties

I dreamt anguish
in your joy
I find my triumph
when I see
your wrist
a band of steel
once bought by me

I promised
you'll never die
You had
but killed me
I knew you would
I lay dead
under your family photograph
all smiles
with a dimpled child
Me-only a fleeting shadow
on the transparent glass
hinging frantically upon
the opaque frame
and Love I did love
without hopes
of roses and laces ©

Friday, January 20, 2012

Ode to the natal home!

My room
filled to the brim,
in expectation
of a grand farewell
They want me away,
I should be away,
never come
in sight, sound, sense

I am told
I am lucky
to receive
the carved furniture,
the carved pain,
the carved agony of un-belonging

Like chaff from grain,
throw away the husk of men
and give me the finest

they’ll grudge
my every visit.
the phases of the moon

On the ninth day
after the new moon;
I’ll weep familial demises
at the door
unable to cross
the threshold
of my natal lunar calendar.

Love they said it was
that sent me away.
Ah! love,
that castrated me
from my childhood
into unequal parts

He too said it was love
that took me to him,
seven circumambulations
and I bowed each time.
He kept count.

I sucked on
a lozenge of hate
and counted all their love.
I will leave
with the hate stuck in my molars.
I’ll blot from life
and become a worm
still nibbling
on the hate of so many loves.

15-01-2012 ©

Sunday, January 8, 2012

A lemon of hurt

He stammered
on a thought
In the lonely winter
of his head
Much had escaped
in a vaporous steam
one February night
A lemon of citric hurt
on the chapped lips
of continuous wounds
I applied a stinging salve
He, rested in my rancour and love
In my embrace of swords and skin
each night, I fed him
spoonful of spite and kisses ©