Recent
Recent
Poems Published In Tuck Magazine (UK), Feb. 2018
Losing Poems
I lose poems every day.
They fall out from me like
an incomplete exhalation.
I can recall their faint beginnings –
rumblings of music
from the seed of mind
that spill into choked
throats, bees caught in flowers,
and the soundless climb
of snails up a papaya tree.
Lost poems: aspiring dwarfs
that never make it to the stage,
the children hoped-for
that rest in the warmth
of the womb only for a day,
before being summoned
to a heaven, where the souls
of childless women wait
to sing to them lullabies.
They fall out from me like
an incomplete exhalation.
I can recall their faint beginnings –
rumblings of music
from the seed of mind
that spill into choked
throats, bees caught in flowers,
and the soundless climb
of snails up a papaya tree.
Lost poems: aspiring dwarfs
that never make it to the stage,
the children hoped-for
that rest in the warmth
of the womb only for a day,
before being summoned
to a heaven, where the souls
of childless women wait
to sing to them lullabies.
Third Eye
Deeper than
the opening of the third eye
is to see
your heart’s desire
fulfilled.
I did not don
ochre (was born a Hindu)
or white
robes (thought of becoming a Christian nun)
when it happened to me –
but finally fell in love
with the grime and gold
of the world.
Matter jumped
at me
like spirit’s twin.
The petals
of the sahasrara*
faded away
like the memory
of a Valentine gone wrong.
It’s the real rose
not given to me
that I cannot forget.
is to see
your heart’s desire
fulfilled.
I did not don
ochre (was born a Hindu)
or white
robes (thought of becoming a Christian nun)
when it happened to me –
but finally fell in love
with the grime and gold
of the world.
Matter jumped
at me
like spirit’s twin.
The petals
of the sahasrara*
faded away
like the memory
of a Valentine gone wrong.
It’s the real rose
not given to me
that I cannot forget.