Ailment Poems

Half-buried in a mud pit, a polluter bares all, body and soul. Hands bound, ready to be stoned to death. A god was going to kill a god. A dense judgement of planet green of an unreliable sun scribbling a

Life, at times, is full of irony, People talk roses but their deeds reap weeds.. Oh yeah! On one hand they pretend to be mascot of peace, On the other hand they don’t hesitate to suffocate anyone else’s speech. On

Short hoo hoo to the distant space A hoo hoo from an unknown space The top of a branch perched in a tree That is where the song of the owl begins Carrying off into the wind at night An

I am no more innocent but I still recall the child I was.. when I stared into the eyes of demon and let him crumble me me a passive entity just trying to break free I don’t remember when I

The birds, trees, sky , and sunshine A kiss for him ’cause he’s so fine Playing on the beach, on the sand Wearing sailor striped knit clothes And holding his hand Swirling around I let go of him To smile

Oh my Lord, I am totally at your mercy Knowingly or Unknowingly I might have sinned and like a mother forgiving her child I beg of you to treat me as such and when the time comes to bid adieu

A rose sent down from heaven, mike told me to give it to you. – A rose to say I’m sorry, for the nightmare he put you through. – He said oh how he wishes, he could tell you all

It’s a tale of the daughter of India! A tale of a young girl so pale Being brutally raped and killed by a ferocious male. She began her day with a fine sunshine, And ended her day with an inhuman

‘Tis easy to feel rejection and self-pity through plight Blaming outside circumstance toward reason When the best answer is, to stand tall and fight Good times and bad come to all like the seasons It is quoted: “The Lord helps

Photo by Anemone Jones This heartache consumes me; I have nothing left to give I plead with my soul to forget and forgive Love’s journey has ended, how can that be Hearts once tethered are now set free As the

Looting after the earthquake: I have wrecked myself on my own terms. Bringing down the edifice of human cult, the man has come in the spin of richtor scale. Why does a crisis tears up the mask and animal comes

Every morning she sweeps the dust That settles there on the step at her door And evening too again she must Sweeping away the dust from her door The dust of the trucks, the dust of our boots The dust

Landscape – what is your nature? Walk on my wisdom Watch it change or develop. At times it’s so barren But don’t judge me. In bloom, touch of beauty Surprise me We speak One unto one Moon turn to sun.

1st July 1916   The roses of Picardy are blooming Red like the blood we will spill The sun shines onto the yellow wheat That drifts and flows in the summer breezes. We face the Saxons, brothers-in-arms, This quiet landscape will

There are many dreams kept in my heart, dreams that sway my soul; dreams of great fire burning, simmering ‘but no one stops to warm themselves long enough, strangers only see a wisp of smoke. I can almost unveil to

In time warp, to find the fell of a dark moon my thoughts bring out a birthday gift. The first step in fog discovers the sharp edge of kindness. Who will believe this black and white, suicide of a sage?

So I find myself once again in the shadow of the crescent moon Back to the marshlands in the throes of an ancient gossamer Forest…well I can still hear your voodoo beckoning the spirits And I too can feel the

So many tethering smiles around, They are none compared to what I once found; Your love to me was like a Gatorade, As I considered you as my all time favorite. It was a magic that I experienced once, As

I felt like getting older with you And that’s exactly what I wanted to do. We came and threw it all away; Another life, another day. Come around and ask for more; Spend a lifetime on the floor. She lives

I’ve contemplated sonnets long enough, And now I think I ought to have a stab; I’m not that sure about romantic stuff, But general this and that seems rather fab. Wordsworth’s general sonnets aren’t my thing, Although he’s written some

coming out of the frame, in evening without a sun, unflinchingly, he said, he was talking to his father daily, in his mind, who was in grave, (when he was on ventilator) about a lesson of deception, about the things

Think a bit, how may be It is loved, could never one see Deep down into his soul It carries thirst of melancholy Wishes wrapped in thuggish threads Coming out of the hellish sea, Trees of these photographs Are said

River flows in it’s own way, Let it be …. People think only about themselves, Let them be …. Air flows only where it builds it’s way, without taking my tears away . Let it be …. People are there

With a singing heart and basket in hand I skipped my way for my weekend store. Dreaming of cinnamony muffins and freshly baked loaves The smiling farmers selling all their veggie and fruity delights. I passed by the quaint and

I’m scrunched in partially obscured view seating, hands at my temples, elbows pressed to the balcony rail. Look up, Sherman Alexie! I squint through borrowed glasses, willing your signature pen to drop, your writer’s eyes to find me. I’m cheap.

Look into my eyes when you’re close to me: I want to lose myself in deeper waters than the sea, To drown me in heavens more distant as the farthest star, To feel that finding myself is not something impossible!

I hope that one day this new generation which has access to the accumulated knowledge of almost every generation before will learn the pleasure of sitting outside on a warm summer’s night in near-perfect darkness and telling stories not in

The very first step a child walks is by holding her hands the very first voice the child hears in the womb is hers nothing can match the comfort that the child gets from her chest she guards her child’s

This is for you. For someone very special in my life. This is the least I could do. At least, before my afterlife. I know how much we’ve been through. I know how much you’ve suffered. For you, this isn’t

Like a bikini top two hills were rising in a spiral optics. Has an altruistic vision. A wildfire erupts between the thongs of dead. You have a mobile message not to praise the sunrise in the woods. I am watching

The movement of the water that surrounds me The slowing down of the force between us The balance of the water holding me like a mother holding its child The character of our bodies reflect its simple gestures The openness

Unmoored in twilight, my most visible hands were ready to slam on the moon of stains to bring out the water of life. A secondhand night was waiting for an explosion, which never came. How long will we go to

Caught in boundless spirals with imminent full of doubt Must accept unkind reality of being down but not out All dreams in past nurtured now appear so far removed Resolute earlier perspectives for now stand disapproved Transient phase of ambiguity

Bemoan the fate as you will the emptiness would still eat you away futility of existence and facade of importance the glitter of attention and tears of oblivion loath of loneliness and fear of attention no one can feel you,

Three little words mayn’t fully unveil The feelings that shelter in my bosom For years remained they an untold tale That shall now into reality blossom Melodious words in my mind chime That I chant merrily to you by heart

Have you ever heard the tale about the hedgehog with no spikes, such a sweet little boy who all the other’s didn’t like? A case of alopecia, there was nothing they could do, such a sad little hedgehog who cried

Today I am so small I ride the corner of your hip, clinging on (with both my tiny hands) to the edge of your pocket. Your denim thighs crest the alternate air like the humping backs of sister whales side

Some play a game of win or lose With the many partners they choose Then try to get down and dirty And forget you without any pity They always play by rigged rules So they always win and never lose

This is the longest week… of what would be my longest month… of my longest year. Losing you is the easy part, living everyday without you is the hardest. How do I cover my ears from the echo of your

[Composed in a class room.] Have you felt what an alien face said? From a land not yours of this birth, And thus in a fleet moment beheld, The tiny dimensions of the earth. Have you seen the colors of