February, 2015

  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…

  All that unfinished business of love… Like a cardigan, half sewn Ending in scraggy tendrils…

  I CHING Not five thousand years ago But yesterday   In a flight of freedom…

   Firewife When you did not come back for me, I bit off my braid and…