Rings of Smoke

These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis.

joy

i want to talk,today- to speak to you, again and again,for hours on end, to sing;and dance,maybe- though i do not sing well, or dance,for that matter- but i want to speak, babble randomly, speak to you- of sun,and sands, and the winds and the flowers, and the moon and stars, and birds and butterflies- [...]

cosmicity

the sea, makes lines in the sands, furrows, and the beach becomes one vast palm, foretelling the future of the world, and us, as lines on the sand travel across bodies and spirits, pouring onto lined foreheads, and drifting into lines of the hands, crisscrossing,merging and dissolving, drawn by subtle,vicious fates, and interpreted by deceptive [...]

distance

the small gap between everything and nothing contracted by loneliness and the mind is sent into a space time warp near you how i want to hold you, and say, “dont worry,poppet, it will be all right, i will not fail you this time round.” to tell you, that the best things might take some [...]

noise

lights, shine bright, moving pictures, fragments impressed on senses, scatters tatters of life, and noise, white,unblinking, staring noise… desolate jewels, broken bangles, shining like tears, colourful, and lonely, and the sea, sibilant whispers, and shimmering serpents, of light… mirrors,clothes and colours, fragmented desires, beautiful women, and preening men, money, changing colours, and lost little children, [...]

reprise

so,you have not forgotten me, and not i,you. in a flurry of lost kilograms and unslept nights, somewhere they sent our love walking, in jungles of unknown futures, and still it survives, in a bitter inrony, where you still have not managed to learn, how to hate me. and i,you. and so,are you destroying my [...]

understanding

Scene-I he stood by the open door and felt the wind rushing into his face,and getting into his eyes behind his narrow glasses,making them slightly teary.the wind ruffled his hair,and he felt his body sway with the gentle swaying of the local train,and watched the tracks move by and the trestles supporting the electric lines [...]

  • About The Line under the Blog Name

    The lines generally are from some poem which I have, at some point of time or the other, loved. I do not mean, by including them, to be snotty or pretentious- but I would love it if you could identify the lines, and take much joy if you were interested enough to search them and read the original poems. If not- you can ignore them.
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