February 2nd, 2015

  13 Insomniac Moons Night ceases to be a sedative, a journey through wilderness, weary traveller’s…

  A River of Gold Where colours make sounds, Red for laughter, yellow for tears Red…

   Trust… My capricious fancies Meander as they will Through the clouds Volubly flowing through To…

  Drawing Room : Homely poems   1. Everyday father would return from office, sit down on the…

   Fall and Autumn Here, the leaves turn yellow first. Not the bright yellow that blinds…

   Stone This hunger is no ‘humour’. My bread is freedom. This ought to be a…

   In the night of your cocoon There is a thread, Which ties me to you….

   Hip-Bone Butterfly I want to wake you up in the morning and peel you off…

  The Evening Is an Interlude The evening is but a pause, A cold sigh Or…

  ‘Pound’s Mr. Gandhi’ No one liked him especially, I think Since all saints are great…