Paris

The city of love has fear in its air
and winter has bled dire red.
The cafes along banks now murmur in grief
as laughter with hatred is sheared.
Poised on the edges of unforeseen dread
Seine too has halted its waves.

But no more the silence of lambs to the blade!

Let petals of love now sharpen as steel
and blaze into fires that save
and multitude of free thinkers march
to the ruin of barbarian hordes.

Silences

As I unlock the door, they peep
from the corners and wait.
Then tiptoe as shadows
and knowing that pills nor potions would help,
curl up in bed
with coffee that is salted with tears.

But I have no laws to expel
cohorts of silence that roam
all through my empty little rooms.

Holidays

Life's all aflutter outside:
busy little feet are rushing along streets
as wheels keep on moving
and engines still bustle,
all towards throbbings of life.

Coffee in hand,
I spectate and chuckle to myself -
the holidays, the holidays are here!

Moment

Evening; around eight.
Screeches of hawkers and wheels.

she slipped off her hood and crossed
As a fawn from a thicket in dark.

The sun shone bright in our eyes.

Truant Eyes

Hazel eyes framed, with bright brown locks

Glow as if pearls in sleep-sullen shells

And matched with the radiance of alabaster skin

Startle my long finished brushstrokes in veins

That rivet me at once on my spot.

My truant eyes curl on stripes of her coat

And turn towards buttons full of mesmerised hope

And latch onto that necklace with despairing claws

As a drowner would cling to his straws.

Glimpses in neurons now weave

Valleys and hills full of bloom.

Farewell, my winters of gloom!

Heartstrings in ecstasy now leap,

With lush, little leaves in their loom.

Zone beyond Words

There should be a zone beyond words -
a space beyond fences of bruised little selves
no trenches of guilt
no papers to settle the scores you'd kept
nor even baggage of problems unsolved.

A zone beyond words
where desire will dance
with rhythms of our hearts
and breathe in an ecstasy of limbs.

A zone beyond words
where lips that would kiss would part for no words
and the script of our eyes would clearly suffice
for a rhapsody of light in our tides.

Yet Again

Between us then throbbed,
An aisle full of blank
With templates of questions all set.

But I who had fumbled in stairs without lights,
Lost all my ladders to the bridge.

Haltered with clauses that never reach a close,
I stumble and puzzle amid punctuation marks
And leave all my wonder on stations I've left
And linger with abdicated grace.

Tottering on ledges full of unwelcome moss,
I re-live my dreams amid harbours of dross.