About last night (a poetic)

Legs twined. Our fingers climbed each other through the night. Scarves undone. My locks tangled yours Little brown vines. Inhale the moment Before memory wakes us – We are supposed to be angry About something Inconsequential. We use eggshelled silence To mask the sleep in our step. Courteous and unremarkable We play at passive anger…

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Naturally Inclined (a poem)

Written years ago, by now. Still relevant. How time flies… for my love. Talking with you is Whispering into the wind: a thousand echoes come laughing back to me Spinning on a dirt devil of past personal secrets and inside jokes opening themselves like morning glories to the moon’s late melody. Though the story is…

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Beauty Mirrored

They stood before each other Sure of the other’s beauty And suddenly stilled in the confidence of her own. The “I wish” and “if only” rose Darkening cheeks and shifting eyes They could not escape the taboo desire To acknowledge beauty in both her and her too Because this world has been trained To think…

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‘Til Death Do Us Part

They were 2 ghosts at coffee Polite, if not a little awkward Corpses blushing for the first time Love flowing like the last gasp in their limbs Except they were very much alive And it was burgers, not coffee, And polite did not conceal The bitterness that tasted of decay, should have been in a…

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Take It. [poesy]

Take it: My pen, and be enundated no longer with my pedantic, rambling streams; My hands, and suffer no too gentle caress any longer; My tongue, and be seiged with no passionate protests or sharp challenges against safe silence; My body, and harass yourself no more with fantasy of the sweetness of mine Eden’s fruit;…

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#selfie

As I transition the layout of my website over the next few weeks, old pages resurface and I’ve elected to give some of them homage with a renewed posting. The following is one such, posted a few years ago, in honour of Women’s History Month and, of course, myself. All my life, I’ve been taunted…

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strawberry kiss

The memory is a strawberry Fresh on the vine With a twisting pluck- It is mine A red gem gleaming in the sun Tart freshness and sugar sweet There’s a hint of the earth in it A safe dirt kind of taste The way a garden smells after rain And the earth is in me…

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ananda (a poetic)

ananda.slumbering nerve-ends ignite in memoryof vowels and symbol combinations long forgot vocabulary runs as a river on recollection of you sathya.do I trust you?sattva.I see it in you, lighter than day. I trust that. shanti.I knew these pieces of the tongue oncecould call on them in moments of samagiving myself from the world of unrealness,…

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Speckled (a micropoem)

Eggshell. Tread lightly. My insides have all run out But aren’t I still warm to the touch? Enjoy my sanity with your breakfast.