Monthly Archives: October 2010



Poetry is the spur of the moment
a whim fulfilled yet unsatisfied.
A shattered caleidoscope, put back
together by the hands of a child.
By the mind of an adult.
To write the poem
one must
not just
identify, project, immerge
but merge – become the poem.
One needs to slip out
of one’s mind
yield to the frenzy
the impulse of passion.
Heed the angelic beast
the daemon of old
and embrace the words.
‘There’s a poem somewhere
in here’ is an erroneous statement.
Poetry permeates everywhere.
Poetry is everywhere.

New days


The secrecy
the whispers
‘I spoke of this..’
The longing of lips
and hands
‘So close, yet so far’
Thrill and frustration
for every little moment.
Can you feel it?

This jolt, this shiver,
the slipping of the masks
we choose to wear;
as laces come undone,
we lose our cover.

A stolen kiss
silently cries out,
as we re-enter
the world.



What is in a whisper?
Lips disclosing
closing in on
the ear and skin.

Sibilants accentuated,
akin to a breeze,
the softest touch
of nothingness.
Is this your neck’s response?

The secret of magpies,
neither silver nor gold.
But nine birds
of both sorrow and joy.



We are the creatures
of the night
– well, technically
the morning. But still –
we are the ones
who are not seen,
we come, work our
charms and then
we are gone.
We know all
your little,
We find them
in the corners
– most times
just in the middle
of the hall,
not that secret.
Nor little. –
You may never
know us,
our mission
is accomplished
if we go unseen.
– some gratitude
wouldn’t harm,
once in a while –