Life, a memory

Life
A memory
Embedded
In our bone marrow
In a language
No one
Till now transcribed

Life after life
It flares
Being a beacon
Guiding us
To a point
Not yet mapped out

Translating
Memories may
Unveil footprints of
The moment
Where we took our time
And surrendered to birth

There stopped the reality

My print of body

I touched you

 A shiver

A look
Shadow of my spirit
On your being

Again

Time stopped
For
A breath to flow

+

My print of body

On your eye
 
Shadows
Writing a poem
With

Their whispering

Cityscapes - 3

Overbridge
above the street
a dried
installation

Noon
silence

Way side
lamp posts
walked
towards
the shadow of
a water tank

Trucks
ran past
in a row
a procession
of holy drinkers
vomiting
fumes and speed

Snapshot of
the street
in that noon

- A cemetery of
small shadows

The man is locked away in a diary

Written by me

For this standard words

Can only be unlocked

By your sharp looks

Through that curls of hair

Smelling raspberry and olive

Scattered by a breeze

And my breath

Epitaph

Another rain from another time

There are no universes with a roof
You drank from the moon I have buried
For the dreams in it, poisonous
You are addicted now, for
You have nothing to say about me
But at my expense you made lot of jocks
The rain is hilarious as it pours in another time

There is nothing to hide now
The leaf is as green as it can ever be
The forest is as dark as it can ever be
But still I walk in my sleep to a poem
I have never written, for
You will understand them if I recite
But, no, I won’t, because I can’t break
My image of toughness or arrogance

There, dear, is my grave. Come, read the epitaph
Life is what made me and broke me
Life is what given me a grave this beautiful
And I am thankful to you both.







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