A Love Poem

Sweetheart,

we have to clear

spectral clutter of erstwhile loves

and the superfluous curse of

an inevitable future

let us get inside

the deepening dusk,

before the hour arrives

for the slumbering ghosts

to creak and mutter

here we are –

in sensuous December of our existence

with an unbridled ardour,

which had all, but

swept us off in autumn

we’ll wander down

to the broken chasm,

body and mind

beyond the horizon,  

like man and woman

in a love story

forgetting over sour coffee and cigarettes,

the approaching sunrise

which lay ahead us

in blue mist 

we might still be safe,

if we walked hand in hand

stifled in other people’s glare

for they can only shake their heads

in grudging appreciation

you know how it is

if you walked on

in that beautiful flush of

love’s ecstatic triumph ---

here today

gone tomorrow

Read more...

Loneliness

I left loneliness

on third step of life

it wasn’t second

it was probably before

I tripped on fourth-

I had a swollen eye,

indigo lips pursed around

spiteful gangs of secrets

it was an august figure,

with bent back, greasy gown,

and dirty slippers

rising, dipping

in a manger of brown water

surrendering to the slime-

soaring with whiff of roses

its crooked hand

pointed an undimensioned curve

every evening I crawled up there

lying ruined and smitten

bewailing the parting

when depraved, exhausted

it clung to me -

a dead thing

in fervid air.

Read more...

Winter

I smell the prickling air

expecting the billowing smog 
from the clammy pavement to rise

longingly placing one palm atop another in the mist

as sunrays pelt the buildings

creating a symphony of grimy gold

The air of previous winters were different,

brittle -

promiscuous enough for someone who rambled

to feel untrammelled and alone

I could’ve spun dark whimsical taradiddles

about old loves, their knotty faces

sneering in the grey-blue,

the fog drooping a sweet despair above

there were summers when life shaped differently,

each holding piercing shards of memory,

huge pieces of time

that disappeared completely

I stretch my arms -

silvery ghost of winter is melting in sparkling yellow,

the air is too clear for mawkishness-

occasional glimpses of a different season

race over the windblown swath,

there is a warm halo somewhere,

for the previous winters were merely an overture.

Read more...