A poem

Always undone

Cold beer

Do i smell a little like i have been
sleeping under a damp moon,
A little caucasian stroller
peering over a black suit,
His eyes scared to meet mine
as i try a little harder every night,but
I'm asleep when i'm drunk
and i was drunk when i wanted to sleep..

9 murders

New Delhi,the capital city of India was host to 9 different murders in a single night yesterday

It's better spoken of,
how they left us alone
the atomic bombs that never fell,
in this agony with which we bear thoughts
of watching someone else's house burn,
and wanting to watch more..
O how all hell never broke loose
until we learned to tie her in our knots...

Ragini(A melody)..of the forest

Ragini was miserable
The windows in her room faced the waking sun,
She had a growing belief
that love was a mysterious trail of blood
in a dark forest she wanted to find the end of..

She wanted to burn the forest down,
An apologetic letter claiming
her blood was unnecessarily spilt over the idea
would have saved her life,after she left
but she couldn't write

Years passed and her life had become the little stretch
between a man's legs across the riches he had
and the time for which he did not care
about  her dying heart

She was sold for a lot less than she had earned,
Every man who's constitution lay in her body,
was in love with her
Every other man wanted to be..

She never rose to the waking sun,again
She never saw another window
Her last letter saying I am home
would have burned the forest down,
But she couldn't write..

So she burned with it....

2:34 am

I'm stuck with good chances,
and that is all there will be of life to tell,
The lights in my house are the only ones
that sadden me...

Now Published-The land above water

A collection of 36 poems..An introduction by Aditya Bahl

It has taken 24 years to come(that is how old i am),published under the Writersworkshop one of  the oldest and perhaps the only publishers who consider poetry a constituent of the Indian Literature standard.Covered in the finest handloom sari cloth and hand woven textures from the streets of Kolkata,the book and the ethics of the publishing process followed by the publishing  house itself is what you simply appreciate about Poetry...Its that it is simple..I have taken a long sigh of sweet disbelief at this point in my life..But ofcourse i will believe...there is a lot still to search for on "the land above water"...

A little while after it starts to snow

The sky is laid out
over a sheet of thick black clouds,
its far end
entwined into a little
golden womb,
Its sad,just sad to be a flake of snow..