yellow, the color of summer

hotly side-stepping

age and rules yellow

and then the red i see

in streaks hers

and orange reflectors

on toes-

an ageing medley,

the ditty-


i want her to stop,

pause the dance,

cool it with a  splash

of blue


mulch am i?

raining on her

in summer too?!

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A nightly sea

She had shades of darkness to wrap around. Her iris glinted blue now and then green again. The pupil was rock-black at night and slate-grey in the day. Me- I was just dust on her cheek, dust she might decide to sweep away with a flood of her salty tears.

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A Home-spun Frock

Will you drop me
A line,
Say you’re fine
As a thread
Come loose on my home-
spun frock.
The frock fits no more
But write me more
Of you,
Find fine
Lo(o)se thread?

P.S: Linked to Trifecta

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it came too soon

a struggling-to-be-up morning

that croaked its way to seven

i peeped to no peepul

it lay on its side, up-

rooted, there was no road,

only rubble random and dust


the crater next door

had grown over-night

my own concrete box

was tottering

i might slip

and fall


P.S: Linked as a Real Toad to the Imaginary Garden for Mama Zen’s 50 word Poe-et Challenge (

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truly falsely me

can i say

it wasn’t me

but the runaway sentence

that broke free

when my back was turned?

if it hurt all that much,

i shall call each syllable up,

blunt their edges

and put them to rest


and tomorrow,

i shall juggle

the rebel letters up

to form-nice and sweet,

i swear! i swear!

but tell me this

would you rather

i be true and rude

or nice and false?

P.S: Owe the term runaway sentence to

P.P.S: Linked as a Real Toad to the Imaginary Garden for the Open Link Monday (

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I see her-

fire-blossoms for eyes,

an assortment of extreme

opinions for  sinuous limbs,

walking alone

and liking it too,

brushing her messy curls away from her ears

with impatience hers,

returning stares with relish,

gazing anew at her peepul’s fancy green spring,

registering wonder at its bright green optimism,

gliding through time,

no exactitudes for this wild creature,

only a free float

for swim she can’t,

dance she does though

to only my off-key ditties,

in her mascara and magenta-

green but not gracious,

i want to see her


i need to be free,

BE her,

don’t you see?

P.S: Linked as a Real Toad to the Imaginary Garden for the Sunday Mini-Challenge ( which asks us to release the inner wild woman and I have too, with pleasure. Owe Shay ( for the term fire-blossom.

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Mud-spattered Memory

Sheets of rain,
Tiny mud fountains
Spattered the tyres

We skid

The only accent of rebellion-
My clenched fist
With its plain gold band

Do you remember
The salt and sweat
As I do?

P.S- Linked to Trifecta

Posted in adult, define, emotions, intimacy, nature, poetry, relationships, time, trifecta, water | Tagged , , , , , | 20 Comments