Rings of Smoke

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

delirium

In many ways he was a strange man, somewhat weak, sometimes even venal, but in all, while to all appearances he was a face similar to the millions of faces that flowed in the stream together with him, inside he was not at all similar, and so, even though floated with a million faces, he [...]

reading, and other updates

Awite. There seems to be some hectic traveling on the cards, again, so I will leave the blog with a parting note for the next few days just in case I am unable to update anymore in near future. First up, the reading. Has been going on full throttle, so much so that I am [...]

strange interlude

I get down from the carpool car and decide to walk the two kilometres from the expressway to my home. I am feeling difficult and do not want to talk to people. I am even more morose than usual. I think back to the people I talk to and try and remember when it was [...]

us

A white bird-feather floats into the room, dancing in little whorls in the wind eddies created by the fan, like little children playing ring-a-ring in pretty little circles; I can see every single hair follicle on the feather move, dance to the tune of the wind, rising up in the air, and then dipping and [...]

kleptomania

When you left, I stole certain things, From you- A rueful smile, A beam of sunlight, peeking through your hair, A teardrop touching the angle of your jaw, A touch of lip upon lip, The warmth of your hand, And a look in your eyes.

rain

It is normal, perhaps, natural enough- For me to think about you. May be, it is- The age I am, and the fact That you are the nicest thing To have happened in a mostly rootless life, Lived in unfamiliar worlds- A bedrock of constancy, even after you were gone. So many ways to justify, [...]

two short poems

i would tell the moon to stay away from you,’cause i get jealous- the idiot goes where ever it might. pull the curtains when you sleep (and i thank the tree outside your room), from where it tries to peek in every night. *** chand se mujhko bas itni shikayat hai tumhe raaton ko jagata [...]

foregone

i keep wondering these days, about things i know i should not, sometimes it is painful even, not knowing- or not understanding. perhaps i should have spoken to you more, or more often, there is so much i could say, (or maybe, not so much really?) i keep wondering- what comes in, when you go [...]

storyteller

speak.speak. talk to me in different voices, speak to me of a million different things in the million different lands you visited, tell me amazing stories, astoundingly tall tales of unbelievable derring-do, tell me of a million wonders, stories to last a thousand nights, and let us live together in those stories, tell me of [...]

time

time- heals all wounds, they say, and blood red suns augur new beginnings- in the far distance, covered under diaphnous eyelids, a relieved melancholy sleeps.

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  • 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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