Saturday, December 29, 2012

Sign boards shine

The sign boards shine
like the lines in a poem.
The cold scaffold of the moment
rings a hum reaching the depths.
A lost self reappears
in a dragon belch of the past.
It is an octopus self
playing a symphony of discord.

The clouds finally deliver the message.
It is eons late and is in Morse code
of stars dotting the sky.
Terrible significance of the self
reruns its stories but
the insignificance arrives finally
as a complete picture.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

The answers

From among the waste lands
The Datura trumpets blow the nectar
The unsaid tries to have its say
The unexpressed inflicts violence
The questions are missing
but here we are, the answers.

Monday, December 3, 2012

Some dreams

Some dreams are really nightmares.
Piercing bamboos that grow
from the night's black soil.

A gleaming medieval sword
escapes the glass case of a museum
and beheads the defenses I erect.
Worst happens wrongly here.
Nothing that I have prepared for.
The days are brightest but
the memories of a dreary evening
are up everywhere.

Tonight is its domain.
The battle is tilted
towards the other.
I have to only comeback
with a sharper scythe.