Fairy tale for the night

March 25, 2015


A long walk
Down the shore,
Bright sun
Lonely crowd.

Watching our shadow
Moving along side,
Your hand in mine
Distant yet loud.

Collecting stones
Coloured brown,
Dipped in sand.

Flying birds
Watch us move,
High above the land.

Rest our bodies
Against the rock,
Now we
Move our eyes.

Sun starts
Swaying away,
Sweet old lies.


November 13, 2014

Originally posted on hollyanne gets poetic:

She doesn’t notice when it leaves her;
it’s always been there – maybe it steals
from her bed like a cowardly
lover before dawn.

Could it not wait to escape?
She didn’t know to sew
it tight to her heels; couldn’t bear
to take a needle to it, but she will
happily spill a polka dot rush
of her own blood.

She isn’t scared of it – never:
a constant her whole life, in step
like a sister, mute and matching
her every trip-toe and lurch.

She knows she must find it:
paste posters on lampposts,
put cards in shop windows.
Have you seen this…?
It’s nothing without her

and now she has nothing
binding her to the ground.

View original

English Vinglish

August 4, 2014

Originally posted on mommygolightly:

 In a recent turn of events, I traded an over-cluttered life in Bombay for a school on a hill to teach English to grade seven and eight students. I was as untrained as they come, but I knew one thing. I had always been thrilled about words coming alive on paper. I figured teaching would involve spreading a bit of that disease.

On day one, in an attempt to “know my audience”, I asked the students to share their favourite word and say why they liked it. They quickly came up with words like music, joy, peace, love, happy and others. My heart sank. It felt frugal. This is not going to be fun, I thought. Was this what they meant by the economy of language, I wondered.

Then I told them I was making word soup and needed something chunkier – words with more gravitas, more texture…

View original 581 more words

Took a photo while re-reading this.


Right Kind of Regrets

July 30, 2014

As the sun sets,
Near the highest cliff.
Wind lost within mist clad ebony.
Louder, the sound of thoughts.

Climbing up the dreaded mountain,
Above the city of so-called joy.
Part immersed with light,
Other with horizon you can touch.

She withstood,
With all the right kind of regrets.

Distant Dream

July 25, 2014


I heard a voice.
Impeccable diamond rain.
Gentle, from behind.

Followed a trail,
To the origin.
Diverted by the wind.

I travelled so,
All senses disabled.
Dragonfly in the town.

Flowers of paper,
Shivering earth.
Coloured pale brown.

I saw a tree,
Stopping by me.
Sun coated gold.

Often closed window.
World enacting peace,
With songs untold.

I looked at sky,
Lone on an island.
Stars now fade.

Fire never met ocean.
Couldn’t breathe the vibe,
Under their crusade.

I found the wild.
In the distant moon,
Scar of a rift.

Few more letters.
Lost elucidation,
In a dream adrift.

Rajat Pradhan:

The Classic Valentines

Originally posted on hollyanne gets poetic:

Yep, posted last year and probably the year before, but I like to think of it as an antidote to all that excess slop that’s out there right now… Yes, I actually consider myself quite a romantic in “real” life, but not in the icky commercialised way of things…

Bear Arses for Valentines

Give me £4.99 supermarket roses
wobbling on the point of wilt.
Or two for eight quid. A snip!
Cellophane-strangled, thornless
and fake scented.
Force-grown, dip-dyed,
red to prove passion.
Or something.

Give me a “personalized” card
bought online, just for me.
Send off a gurning snapshot
and they’ll do the rest:
sign it and lick the envelope
and post it to S.W.A.L.K. through
my door, forensic without
your fingerprints.
Once you’ve paid them.

Give me a big pink teddy bear
yanked from a furry squash
of identical card-shop bears.
Stitched on smile, paws sewn
to cushions saying…

View original 25 more words

The Last Shine

November 27, 2013

Cave Painting by Charles R. KnightCave Painting by Charles R. Knight

Oh golden sun,
And the last shine.
Snow covered fortress, that broken
Once nurtured in your shrine.
Flows the wind from north,
Tears their flesh apart, killing
A thousand souls divine.

Oh golden rays,
Hidden behind the mountain, so far
Clans, those dejected,
Hiding tears with their scar.
Painted on the lands, undivided
Holds the untold truth.
On the trail leading no-justice,
Walks the crumbling youth.

To save our sons and women,
The wars they began.
The time has yet to come,
For our glory,
And those lives we lost for our clan.

A replica of the sun,
Burning down it’s own hope.
A Billion years at the blink of an eye,
Carved sharp on the mountain slope.

To find answers those hidden,
By the river,
Buried below the ocean bed.
Paths closed for ages,
To stars, we must turn our head.

— —

Edge of Emptiness

July 20, 2013

Emptiness is inside us, yes
It amuses us.
For an instant so serene,
It holds us,
Moulds us into its omnipresence.
We try not to escape.

We try not to escape from its tricks,
From its burns so sweet,
It shows us how to blend.
The reality is nothing,
But a man made scarecrow,
Planted on the graves of undead.
We fear.

It shows us path we must not dare,
And how every path leads to a point,
Where nothing stands correct,
Nothing stands fair.
We think of the sunshine,
But we don’t belong there.
And we weep.

It takes more than just a vision,
To foresee the fate.
How we ruined the humanity,
And left cursed without a reason.
The emptiness shows us light,
We close our eyes.

Morning breeze wakes us up,
And the clock has not stopped ticking.

December’s Love Song

April 20, 2013


That crazy summer night,
ended with a kiss.
Waves returned back to the sea,
filling the moment with a silent bliss.
And left me half contained,
entangled, with a bunch of dreams.

Those fantasies relived,
when thoughts spark from dead.
Each word that outlasted,
from it’s concealed state unread.
Collected from the landfill,
and painted with blues of morning light,
days kept flowing with the waves,
broken up, thoughts stood still.

Winter came again,
brought December along.
Thoughts became weird,
eventually stacked up and strong.
The immense emptiness yet to be blamed,
for the one,
she, who must not be named..


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