Dust Hound

Look at him, my dog, chase dust.
After all, dust defines us;

has moulded us into
monuments of wonder;

into beings who wander,

seeking taller high-rises,

looking down at the

smallest wonders of the world.

Ashes scatter... Our souls stay, 

fine, earthly, err... dusty!

Look at him, my dog, chase...

In awe, in joy, in angst even!

Masala Baby and I at Lodi Gardens, Delhi (Pic: Sreetama Bagchi)

Dusty Portrait

These fine lines

on a black canvas:

Spaced by fate and summer,

by heartless strokes

from petrol-driven

blunt brushes made of rubber.

The sensuous, sexual curves

your lips smudge, erase and shift,

again n again,

through breaths from the inferno,

from the deserted soul

that lies beyond

this rude State

I visit to earn my bread.

Pic Source: indiatoday.intoday.in