It has been a long time, that the sunset melted into my evening silence and I let the soft dark rein my qualms – as if, bracing dark is the answer
knowing, it is so not.

It has been a long time, that night trespassed into my glass of wine and I drank the moon – as if, my doors were open like never before, while
the fact is I grew a deaf to cacophony

In illusions, reality can be as profound as oceans
always returning back
the words I throw at them

Thus I return
to the belief
that there is no end to how much I can love you
but certainly many beginnings of how I tell them

Returning to poetry, after almost a year I guess. Linked to DversePoets, OpenLinkNight

In the end

Up north,
The last rock of Ireland
Ocean makes and breaks the silence
Waves smash into rocks
Birth of
Sparkling little shiny droplets
I/we learn new colours-

Loch Ness
Folklore tunes
Overflowing the valley
A lonely drink
A few moments before the sunset
Wish I had wings-

Uneven rocks lying on the shore
An old seal, now resting
Or a young mermaid
I could be one of them
A baby with the seal
Or a lost sailor, courting the mermaid-

Come destiny,
Turn me into a stone
A bird
Or not,
I’ll open the door for you.

Journey ends
The road doesn’t
The calling

I am linking this poem to Dversepoets Poetics, where Shanyn has us write about rhythm of road. Here I write about two of my favourite destinations. Sadly, I have lost all my Scotland and Ireland photos. What I have shared here is a calm sunset at Newquay, Cornwall. Join us to read some wonderful poetry.

The spring & the prince

Fields of gold# 1

Light, prism, spectrum, shorter wavelengths
Minium, niveous, russet, azure
on the contrary

Oh! Celeste
Come spring,
I’ll pick linguistics over science any day

Xanthic, olivaceous
Will be my world
Desert rose in my arms
Till it is atrous night


# 2

I gave away all my gold
Last winter,
Wasn’t enough
To buy all the woes

Come springReach up to the sky!
I’ll be born again
And again next year
As long as I have to

Happy prince of the world.

Tonight on Poetics, Grace has us write about use of colours & seasonal change of hues or cultural myths into our words. Here are two short poems on Spring. I am sure you’ll also choose language over quantum physics (light gives birth to the debate of particle and energy), given the colours you see over Spring.

xanthic yellow; yellowish
minium vermilion; red lead
niveous snowy; white
russet reddish brown

Refer to this link for more unusual colour terms. My second piece is a tribute to Oscar Wild – remembering his great story of happy prince. In a sense, trees are happy prince of our world, who are reborn at every spring, by growing new leaves and all that is to give so much to the world. I hope you like contribution to this creative prompt.

For my friends on Dversepoets, the photos are from the place where I grew up – After I wrote this, I wanted to add some visual as well.

A perennial destiny

Lotus for sale


Drizzle water on me, yes
I look pristine
Grace of your house in a pot
Uprooted stem
Wither to death?
Drizzle some more water
As if it’s life


Deity, blessings
Love, fortune

Oh! my lotus
Epitome of grace
You live beyond motif

Don’t dry, you shall sell dearly

On Dversepoets poetics, Shanyn has us write micro poetry inspired by macro photography. Those who know me, need no telling that photography is my second poetry. Hope you like my contribution to the prompt. Lotus is also the national flower in India and has a great significance in Hindu and Buddhist philosophy. You can read the work of others who participated from this link.

Déjà vu

Resting beneath

I see him often – a grey jerkin, blue shirt
Unshaven beard for a few days,
Worried – is he?
Economic landslides, crimes or poverty
World has enough worries, for say

While walking along the night
A woman stopped him,
“Do you have a spare pound?
Would you do business?
I want to~”
She asked; shivering in search of some warmth
He gave her a coin and ran away
Why didn’t he do business with her?
She was pretty-

He sometimes looks happy
Not shining happy,
But glowing from inside
Did he get that bonus he was waiting for?
Or, his sister got engaged
Wait – he had a sister?
A sister that rarely calls him
Or he calls her,
That’s not so sibling like

Sometimes he looks old
Youthful vigor, but old
Poignant eyes
Give it away, do they?
Age will take its toll
But not as nearly as sadness;
Would it?

He dances cheek to cheek
With his little princess
Her standing on a table,
Reaching his height;
Dancing to the beat
His eyes
Pensive of suffering women go through
Reflects clouds of fright
For his princess,
Who just dances to the beat-
Time will tell if those clouds will disperse.

I see him naked
Is that pride what he wears then
Abating allegiance-
He never speaks out,
Silence is how we commune
I see him on the rainy days mostly
Mild water clogging,
Oh! Yes – and I see him in the mirror too,

Tonight on Dversepoets Meeting the Bar, Brian wants us to write about character development in poetry. So here is my entry to the theme. Hope you like it. You can read all the great posts on this prompt here.

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The man in red coat and blue pants

I am sharing this poem to DVersePoets OpenLinkNight. where we have a new poet, Anthony, greeting us all. Following his suggestion, I wanted to write about some common objects in my bedroom. Once you read through, you will find how they are so special. Join OpenLinkNight to read some amazing poetry from poets all over the world here.


A red octopus
At peace with the duck that sings lullaby
Or a green tortoise,
A grey elephant
– Quite a colony together
Friendly neighborhood
They are

The ambulance, the white cooper
A man on a unicycle
Donald duck
Hide, jump crash into one other
The man lost a leg,
– The ambulance a wheel
Once a table clock, now
Lost its second hand

A lot of making and breaking
Tiny little fun
Balloon throwing
In a tiny red throne
– The queen takes up rein of her kingdom
A lot go into hiding,
Under bed, cupboard

I watch my child at play
And part of me
Sport a false moustache
And ride the unicycle in red coat and blue pants,
A white hair or two, underneath the hat
Age is a beautiful watch that never stops
– Yet going back in time is possible,
As a father, I like to believe.

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