Boyhood Poems

I am a beautiful man though once I was an ugly boy worms split at the advance of my sneakers they knew what was coming I never shared chocolate turned sour to spite me this is no caterpillar and cocoon

A Steinway upright corners my grandmother’s parlor. As a boy I hid there and fell prey to a 3 p.m. nap. The notes awoke, bearing the boy across land and sea to the shore of an Italian lake where a

From farthest East, or more precise The forests vast on India’s breast, Rose hymns of wisdom that never dies, The words of knowledge, forever best. Those hymns were born from wisest hearts, As throats would trill in sombre shades; They

Shadows and the bravery of the past, echoes of the sounds you spoke of hopes and misery ever last… but smokes of your failure – you choke Behinds the sun, stars dream of evening darkness. Holy Death, leads us to

The bushes, I remember, have been there in the tales of my love! The breath, the tears, and the aura of virgin forest – The art, the sighs, the darkness, the motorcycle, the roads, the unending journeys, have been there!

The bushes, I remember, have been there in the tales of my love! The breath, the tears, and the aura of virgin forest – The art, the sighs, the darkness, the motorcycle, the roads, the unending journeys, have been there!

Impossible emptying my head of every bent phrase… The misshapen past crooked and crass –unrepentant lunar lit boyhood errant I against your shallow affect denial (my own story you dare edit or silence because every unacknowledged event is one erased

What a combination A 30 degree temperature with sunny, clear skies The perfect paradox created by the immortal Not hard to circumnavigate as long as you bundle up, keep moving at a brisk pace drifting through memories transparent lustings brought

The trees give us water and fresh air, We shouldn’t be destructive that isn’t really fair; They give us oxygen and food, We shouldn’t kick them or break their leaves whether in a rage or in a bad mood; To

Passing The River I saw men at war And I mourned the dead I thought to myself why can’t we just love each other instead Passing The River I saw starving children at play It made me laugh a little

There is Mt. Etna in every one of us Seated beneath our heart for long Trying to come out any time soon But still suffocating inside only May be a long time May be a very short time This Mt.

A little childhood collecting Waste papers on a garbage dump Asked me, “Am I born to do this job?” I had no answer A childhood begging on roadside Asked me, “Is my childhood born for begging?” I had no answer

I’ve had this feeling a long time ago And I hated it So it was sealed away Within me it all started to crumble I’ve got a feeling , it is hidden deep inside I’ve got this feeling that I

You entered our landscape of suffering and suffered yourself for our sake You knew we were addicts recovering and trapped by our every mistake Our grief over goodness distorted would daily unsettle our souls And though we found routes to

A really knowledgeable person knows just how little he really knows And when he finds the perfect mate he just begins to start discovering the things in life he so much loves Because just one person can never comprehend all

Was that a nightmare ? or a true-false play portrayed by an absconding daydream . was that the day when I was born ? The day when my father’s business collided . Was that the same day , when I

Don’t cry because he told you, That his love has slipped away, Because I once knew a boy, Who watched the sun rise every day, One morning I sat with him, Wrapped entirely in my awe, But he said he’d

The time is 10.23 pm The time is 10.23 pm; I thought I would tell you the time. I realise you will want to have this time again, But there simply is not the time. I do not have an

lower abdominal area gurgles and balloons gastrointestinal tract vis a vis flatulence croons in tandem and/or subsequent expulsion eliminates fecal waste witnessing sprinting to bathroom, this scribe (against time) and jet propulsion of sphincter muscles’ spasmodic desperately raced unpleasant symptom

You spoke muted words Of empty togetherness; A divided union through a weak connection signaled through the ruffled air, brought messages to her memory still fresh; Only a few of them spoke to the emptiness lost in the silence and

Became a Stribu model barefooted. One of many but an ordinary person. Wore a shirt I bought from Walmart. A denim shorts from Jcp. My teenage daughter was humiliated. I felt great, forgot my illness, heartaches. Stood proud clothed in

The Jester Retrieving a book from the calmness of its nook Opening to illustrated pages to be read by children of all ages There before me was the Jester in full color and bright what a sight From the open

Oh my love, Thank you for bringing me this precious gift, Life without you my love, Will be nearly impossible, I rather stare death right in the face, Than losing you for more than one second my love, I feel

She says: I can smell the fear of your incompetence I harness you, to make real my “creativity” Your sweat nourishes my creation As I milk your labour to polish my David. Your gnawing stomach, I feed with ideas Pickle

Unable to reach you Unable to teach you How to love How to remove The hurt of the heart I feel maximum pain I feel like max payne Imagine what we could have made An angel calls And I continue

Kites , high they fly On their distinct path Wandering, discovering, redefining … With burning desire They fly… Red, green, white, gray and golden All belonged to me Or do they?? Red , is my first favourite It flies forever,

Sometimes lurking in corner. Sometimes tumbling down endlessly, and sometimes with frozen smile immolating oneself before an idol to be. He danced imprisoned in a glass case whole life. Overcoming the pretentious inhibition to stand naked in dimlights of arguments.

Oh! Dear Almighty, No one ever imagined, nightmares could be so fair; It showers bullets, its floods human blood; The black masked men, taking everyone in their den; The den lying in the hell, ringing our death knell; Bodies are

Coming face to face with hemlock you are not able to rain in the animal and start climbing the temperamental tree. Fathered by innocence of violence on the name of war, when were you going to kill? Your own progency?

I am not defined by your appraisal ratings. I am not defined by the fact that you nag me for being a unconcerned husband, or yell for being a failed father. I am not defined by your hollow looks every

What did it mean to be human? What does it mean to be human? What will it mean to be human? Humanity has fought and clawed its way to the current. Wars and superstitions filled our hearts and minds. King

Nothing makes or breaks now. I will not know you on the lake. The clouds and shoreline shudder. There was no speck of endurance. The wind falls with agonizing thud. The dusk was hoisting the white waves. Time to make

Before I go back into this sickening world, before I see people doing things that they never wished. Before I know people are not busy as they seem to be. Before I forget the true colours of my heart. Before

I stepped up high, kept enhancing. Got stifled, sat for a while. My strength got abducted, sucked the truth. Abominable insights attacked, kicked off this foe. When it came to abdicate, I rinsed myself with willpower. Indisputably it was hard,

I have peeled off my eyes. Fear of unbeing creeps in, genes were escaping. The thin affair bends under the burden of vague uncertainty. A smoke rolls out from choking throat. A word leaps high from wounded pride. The author

I’ve had dreams of other places, other places where I have lived. Places different from where I live now. Places that seemed just as real. All we know is what our five senses allow us to know. There is more

But there is an anti-particle to wvery particle in this universe” The physics teacher quoted in class twelfth “Ally with real life” he said, And a life lesson was learnt that heyday. “to every single ‘event’ there is an ‘anti

In hoardes they arrived not cattle or flock of sheep sea of humanity deprived a deluge seemed to sweep Harried mothers hands in pray weary eyed children in tow losing who couldn’t bear sway reached utopia unsteady and slow City

Don’t forget, our passion of yesterdays. Elevated beating of our hearts. A gentle breeze against my face. Caressing ever so softly. A fine mist of rain, Your touch is refreshing to my skin. Thunder booming, getting closer and closer, our

Love is a nicotine, hurts but, it’s mine. The angry pulse feels like a needle tussle, ain’t no relief, drunk in your memory old monk. Blood rushing in cold, as the moment unfolds, Mind, all numb, noise of the silent