Love lies

Smoking veins that run wicked like

An old nanny whose time is running out

Doors have been closed and the moon has little to offer

We get inside as if there is no haste

And we time a plenty I put aside my old grandmother’s earrings

They often get caught when it is just right between us

Such a nuisance it is to unhook all – the buttons on your chest

My shoes and slim garters – they have been there awhile

Off your smelly socks which I pretend to explore

They say nibble his toes and he will come like a flash

We breathe one other as the lights twinkle

In the sitting and I draw you in me afraid

Of the morning that has been set aside.

Love is forever you whisper in my ears

The whole of you is seeped in truth

But for the fingers they find it difficult to lie.

 

Death of a letter

My dear I have stopped

addressing them to you

words glide swiftly

to the wild contours

of distant shelves

that once belonged to you.

 

In ink I dip them not

nor do I stamp them

with suave sincerity.

 

Some unholy passage

lurks out of memory

and hands get still.

 

The alphabet is cold

and my letter

devoid of warmth

of love, of news

and address

refuses to make amends.

 

For a Father who taught me to smile

My father’s face

soft and grizzly washes away

clusters of sadness and I get closer

to his smiles soaked in eternal bliss.

 

They are with me
those scattered shades

of a sunset in childhood
unwilling to disperse.

 

I find him almost everywhere.

The air is floating with his

morning chants of Durga Saptshati.

The fire groans in my son’s eyes.

The waters mingled with the smoke

while his body crossed the bare sands

and this little earth so moist and green

was loaned to me as his only keepsake.

 

Durga Saptshati: A collection of chants in Sanskrit in praise of Goddess Durga a symbol of Shakti – female energy and creativity.

 

 

Ref -Mascara Review

Smoking veins that run wicked like

An old nanny whose time is running out

Doors have been closed and the moon has little to offer

We get inside as if there is no haste

And we time a plenty I put aside my old grandmother’s earrings

They often get caught when it is just right between us

Such a nuisance it is to unhook all – the buttons on your chest

My shoes and slim garters – they have been there awhile

Off your smelly socks which I pretend to explore

They say nibble his toes and he will come like a flash

We breathe one other as the lights twinkle

In the sitting and I draw you in me afraid

Of the morning that has been set aside.

Love is forever you whisper in my ears

The whole of you is seeped in truth

But for the fingers they find it difficult to lie.

 

Death of a letter

My dear I have stopped

addressing them to you

words glide swiftly

to the wild contours

of distant shelves

that once belonged to you.

 

In ink I dip them not

nor do I stamp them

with suave sincerity.

 

Some unholy passage

lurks out of memory

and hands get still.

 

The alphabet is cold

and my letter

devoid of warmth

of love, of news

and address

refuses to make amends.

 

For a Father who taught me to smile

My father’s face

soft and grizzly washes away

clusters of sadness and I get closer

to his smiles soaked in eternal bliss.

 

They are with me
those scattered shades

of a sunset in childhood
unwilling to disperse.

 

I find him almost everywhere.

The air is floating with his

morning chants of Durga Saptshati.

The fire groans in my son’s eyes.

The waters mingled with the smoke

while his body crossed the bare sands

and this little earth so moist and green

was loaned to me as his only keepsake.

 

Durga Saptshati: A collection of chants in Sanskrit in praise of Goddess Durga a symbol of Shakti – female energy and creativity.

 

 

Ref -Mascara Review


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