Saturday, 26 November 2011

For the elusive one

faraway door,
close-by wall
and other impediments of the mind:
no, i am not attempting break-in
for such things are forbidden
not by statute or convention
but choice of moral territory;
but whisper to me
relate stories
in your respective voices
of that place where i believe
i am not non-resident
and not necessary unwelcome
though un-encouraged.
describe to me a flower
and let me imagine fragrance;
recite to me a poem
and i will compose melody,
tell me the texture of the soils
and i will describe her face,
say nothing
and I will write unwritten histories.

Friday, 25 November 2011


If you are asking me,
i'd say this:

There were no name-boards
or landmarks
no road-sign, no map
for hearts
though contoured
slip through fingers
evade cartographer.
There's a price to pay
for heart:
salute love
and concede reason,
give up choice;
there's no agency.
Did not ask,
did not plan,
do not complain now;
there might have been mirror
but I didn't see;
there are people
and they never asked my name -
so i said 'conclude, as you will'.
There are no auspicious times,
not for heart,
not to my knowledge,
nor my ignorance,
as of now.

*a response to a poem titled 'How did you come back from where the heart took you?'


Thursday, 24 November 2011

Where has the heart taken me/you?*

A fishnet and a hook
a belly of acid
a burning rock and
the spark of a thunderclap,
to the blade of a fan
the end note of a music score
thumbprint of eternity
and nothing,
to after-last-sigh silence.
*This was in response to a question Marianne asked: 'Where has the heart taken you?'


Wednesday, 23 November 2011


For melody and music
love and love-making
rain and thunder
the caressing of leaves
breaking of twig
uprooting the tap-root
of memory,
time for the madness of recollection
for the head-toss
robbing tongue of word
throat of vocal chord,
time to bend low
and lower still
for executioner's swing
and time, perhaps
for words.
it's not now,
no, King Silent's century has begun.

*For Marianne who wanted a ‘Right Now’ poem

Tuesday, 22 November 2011

Of words

There will be more words then,
between you and i,
more from me perhaps,
just little pieces of sky
ribbons drawn from memories,
colours from impossible sunsets
and ordinary things
     like bookcases
     wrapping paper
     a stranger's smile
     a computer screen
     the bark of a dog
     traffic lights
and other things we pass by
as we move from moment to moment
as we switch dream for reality
and reality for dream,
and in those words
and pauses too
you may find something
something that makes you forget to breathe
something that stops clocks
and buries eternity forever.
or you may find nothing at all.
either way, i will come.

[from the collection 'The Underside of Silence', shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2008]

Monday, 21 November 2011


In your eyes
in the circle that captures
movement and being
in the net that gathers
sandstone histories
and anthills,
among which crawls unhappy love
random and shameless
conceding dream to illusion,
in the compass of gaze
that maps out thought-paths,
unscrambles word-game
uncovers silences,
and in the blaze of that incomparable knowing,
I am naked
not as a child
but an old man,
incontinent and divested of shame.

[from the collection 'Underside of Silence', shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2008]

Sunday, 20 November 2011

Shelf life: Indeterminate*

These are the libraries

of our land,
made of novels and epic poetry
rarely perused
seldom cited:
and yet there are letters
words and metaphors
tapestries woven
with labour
and the threads of being,
the bartering without permission
wheels that turn
despite impediment and age-limit,
the fruits of our today
the catch that fell through
the butterfingers of political economy,
the story of a child
and her tomorrow
and the transcripts
of a timeless,