Thursday, April 21, 2016

A Poet's Audacity


Hey you,
are you mad?

... The audacity of him
to think he could,
in a matter of seconds,
turn life as it is
into words,
scribble it onto
the pad given to him
by life itself.
Pic: poetryfoundation.org

Sunday, April 03, 2016

Summer Morning

The cold blanket
of haze
I saw in your eyes
has cleared,
replaced by a bright spark,
summer they call it...

But I christen it lust;
I love it
for the bright lights
make you bold;
relentless, stubborn,
annoyingly bold.


Pic credit: newsx.com

Saturday, April 02, 2016

The Ear Pull

Then she pulled my left ear,
mother...
The chiding,
it is, I know,​
for leaving you,
for hiding in their city.

The bloodletting
reminds me of home,
of belonging,
of what I’ve grown up to be​,
a slave to the month
—telephone bills and 96 pages.