Archive for the ‘Verses’ Category


Posted: March 25, 2013 in Philosophy, Vagrant, Verses

There is too much paper

In the world,

But not much ink.

There is too much ink

In the world,

But not many words.

When paper,ink

And words concur

There is not much me

That’s left.


Reality-when excessive

Sounding overdriven notes

Drives men to take cover

Seeking options to quell it.


Reality- negate or posit it

Or turn your back you may

Drawing apps and new ways,

Plying for situation control.


An earplug- born of needs

To nix the sound extern

Is deafness made wearable,

As if world has no words for you.


Or an earphone, still better

To fix a sound you like

As if it’s only one you’d hear

Though the world cries out loud.


Blindfold in its symbolic richness

Can hold the world at bay, a dark bay.

Window-blinds shut in

To let in just a beamlet;


Still reality stays and it says’

“You hear that you want

You see that you want,

But there is more and more unturned.”

fiendish gloom robs heart of its warmth;

thoughts have turned pale and cold

sole query does my mind raise

“Has the spring lomg way to come”

robed in anguish, wake i, all days

sighing over duties undone, prayers unsaid.

sins make a grim dance on my eyes,

wonder how large a troupe they are.

i don a cloak of ritual penance

still withholding my goodness,

makes unfeeling vows before Lord

knowing each word waits to be broken

cobwebs from corners

through treasured icons reaches

for my dusty soul…


watching dead leaves fall
from the cell through a window,
time seems frozen still.

when you stand on heights
and rain wets you,see it
falling on vales too.

two windows set near
one lit yet other not- as
opaque septum parts them.

sips by the beak off puddle,
crow slakes but as man im forced
‘drink safe lest guts crash

never candy melts
but chewed down unrelished- my
mouth chews by instinct

“love lost”
our love cedes, meeting
flesh of flayed realities
so we wed new lies

prose to set a fire
lovely hymns to quench- so my
prayer cycle recurs.

“rules to climb”
when you hear a gurgle
know your foot’s on splay- climb up
or roll down, no stay.

sweet note,loved, treasured
crumbles in hand as i slumber
lethal lethargy!

id crush boulders, eat them
digest,filled, live by it, yet
tip over a pip-sized rise.

“spectres on ice”
icebed arctic melts,
a mammoth calf unveiled
haunts me back here home.

“drip drying”
clothes to dry, sun slips
wind blows, lost sun bemoaned
forgets- wind dries too.

‘john’s dead’-said in jest
the words flew, all johns fell dead
that’s the thrust words wield.

O, its paining terribly, brother
why this irk at this late hour
know not what trouble brews
choking me all these weeks
O dear its but a reminder
all pain comes with tags
attached with no loose
ends,but neatly laid out
perhaps its a pain you bear
and so a loved one you spare
promptly of this woeful care
that way very sweet it fares
then i should want more pain
if i could, of the same vein
but dont send me all the same
until my restive soul is tame

Ad libs

Posted: January 13, 2013 in Memoir, Verses
Tags: , , ,

the old organ reworked
had sung with the cantor,
an incognito i’ve never seen,
before the sexton dumped it.
now pedals fitted, bellows mend
keys reset, lid hinged, polished over
it finds a place of rest
by the wall of the prayer room.
uncle’s boy wss playing tenor
with bass accompaniments after
his lessons was a rare sight
even more as he left the place.
when i sit working the pedals
groping keys with a single hand
it’s nothing but a puerile vigour
or unquenched curiosity, not more

I found her in a trashcan
nose, chin, pedestal chipped off
the sword still thrust down, in hand,
showing what she is composed of.
there was not she used to be
she was in a nook in the niche,
overhearing the pious pleas we
at the Lord and His Mother unleash.
when i retrieved , she was decapitated
thought i’d fix it with a dab of glue.
her ancient broadsword incapacitated
we have to forge one new in lieu
to connive this inadvertent iconoclasm,
to fracture these embodiments in plaster
that sooner we may gaze at chasms,
our ways to the heights hamper.