lost in obscure,
serpentine alleys of
surreal daydreams,
that engulf a moment
like dew grasped within
closing fronds of
touch-me-not leaves,
she sighs moist patches
on the visage of
clear window panes.

her imagination
is a gossamer veil akin
to mist of winter’s threshold,
that drapes some instant
that plays truant from
realms of reality,
groves of veracity,
to recline on cassock
of bittersweet fantasy.

in these moments
of escape from life’s sojourn
wishes blossom, desires flower
the incense of hope
seeps into the pores of skin
to enter marrow
of existence,
this is a bubble from
fluid of molten rainbow
and liquid moonbeams
that bursts after a moment
yet leaves lingering
dew of whimsical smiles.

like feathers of a dove,
peppered confetti in arms of
aromatic autumnal breeze,
the etched stardust trail of
a falling comet on indigo,
the song of a robin in flight,
blossoms of hursingar
daydreams are transient
fabrications of whimsy
that leave a lurking smile
or a twinkle of hope
in eyes long disillusioned…


A Moment of Deja vu


this serpentine trail
to nowhere stretching beyond
the cleft between
mountain’s mounds,
like a ribbon of
eternal tempest’s gray,

the gurgling stream
of silver ripples flowing
as a symphony over shingles,
to meet the eternal embrace
of tides of brine,

the blush of dawn
streaked over chiseled profile
of the ancient hills,
that stands tall to
kiss clouds sailing overhead,
and stroke the face
of freckled platinum moon.

the spread fields of lavender
scenting the nostrils of zephyr,
that smile in the sunshine
as a frozen kiss of twilight
blossoming in nature’s arms,
and beckons the butterflies as
they sleep within their chrysalis.

that deserted cottage
standing since many decades,
its walls replete with creeping brocade
of variegated wildflowers,
and a thousand unrealized dreams
and un-flowered hopes echoing
within its palpable quietude.

they all seem so familiar
though never have I ventured here,
yet it feels to be so known,
eager to share its secrets
and listen to my escapades,
as though in another time
beyond banks of blooming narcissus,
this place and I shared a yesterday,
long erased from pages
of volatile memory…

Story of a Leaf


young leaf

born by unfurling
on some misty, dewy morn
of pouring honeydew,
from chartreuse axillary bud
this leaf spun rhapsodies
of echoing rustles,
with others on tree’s arms.

fluttering leaves

it fluttered in the wind,
with the swaying boughs
and danced in the rain
as elixir splattered on verdure,
it was spun with another
to form cradle for tailor birds,
and was adorned in dewdrops
every aureate morning.

leaf in rain

the ripe fruit or pretty flower
played hide and seek
behind this green curtain,
and caterpillars fed on
its tender sinews with leisure,
nibbling its form until
the pupa made it a butterfly.


then fall brought its array
of golds, reds and yellows,
splashing its on the green form,
and the leaf was now
pantomiming as a petal,
aroma of cinnamon in its breath
as though tainted by sunshine,
caressed by photons’ fingers.

autumn leaves1

and finally an autumnal sun
of mellowed warmth,
witnesses its fall on sidewalk,
to become just another
tangerine confetti of fall,
or the honeyed moon saw
it withering from its twig
and it floats in the embrace
of breeze to mingle in dust…

Platter of Salad Poetics…



winter mischief ripens
into country bumpkin blushes
on orbs palmed in hazel herbs,
to be sliced into simpering grins
salted and peppered over
by preoccupations of appetite in
their sweet-sour resplendence.


citric sighs within yellow rind
hanging from thorny branches
as multiple globes like winter suns,
are knifed into juicy halves
to sprinkle their tangy juices
in dewy beads of freshness.


concentric circles of onion whorls
pealed and spliced, punctuated
in streaming falsities of crocodile tears,
are like verses of pink and white
layered in delicious patterns
on hungry dishes of sustenance.

green chillies

scissored green chillies
are sprinkled in tiny, hot bits
to be savored with bland bites of rawness
and washed down burning tongues and throats,
with gulped sips of cold water.

radish, carrot, turnip

pulled out from soil’s gritty womb
turnips, carrots and radishes,
are washed and cut in thin rounds
adding a medley of colors to blandness,
to be served with a dash of lime,
salt and pepper in fragilities of china.


cucumbers are sliced into green wheels~
summers vows of juicy freshness,
with smatterings of salt and spices
on arranged plates of sumptuous salads,
with a golden trickle of olive oil
gracing moods of fresh morsels.


a colorful blend of cut salad
arranged as a jigsaw of taste on china,
is served as luscious dream
with versatile flavored seasonings,
to lure starved appetites
with healthful promises
against tasteful delicacies.


Introspections of Whimsical Fall…


sunshine dapples in volatile golds
rustling symphonies of autumn’s cobblestones,
like rain songs drizzled on muddy trails
by vagrant whimsy of tempest clouds,
or a painter indulging in experiments
with paints, aisle and brush strokes.

intrigue of sunbeams filters
through stoic temperament of evergreens,
etching chiaroscuros through sieving leafage,
while they remember the gossips
shared with neighboring deciduous foliage
in balmy longevities of summer days,
now denuded of gregarious moods,
standing silent in cerise sighs of dawn.

forlorn autumn moon is citrus sigh
lingering from spring’s breath,
perched over quietudes of skeletal apostles
like cranes meditating on rippling lakes,
while the mandarin sun emerges
in eructations of whimsical morns scented
in flavors of cinnamon rolls and apple tarts.

indulging in contemplations on fall’s days
aromatic in words withering from maple limbs
tinted in variegated pastels,
with unfurling saga of reiteration
rejuvenation and reincarnation scribing itself
in unvoiced scribbles of poetry,
life seeks to redefine conventions of existence.

Memories of Blackberries…





their sweet-sour, tangerine flavor,
still lingers on my tongue, no longer dyed
in eager gluttony of naiveté

girl blue sky



as eyes lost in infinite azure, read
thoughts perched as praying mantis
on foliage’s palms-
travelling trail of forgotten reminiscences.

reborn, with a look at shriveled arms,
of a dying sentinel, gnarled, twisted
standing as a frozen sigh,
pleading unto cerulean heavens


as half dried leaves taste autumn’s bane
in monsoon’s season, of rejuvenation
insipid blackberries are tasted by cicadas,
or left to stink in downpours.





thoughts’ pastels paint sepia realms, of a memory,
of another tree laden with juicy blackberries,
whose flavor blended, in my lost childhood
blurring my eyes, at plight
for this unfamiliarly familiar tree…