Tuesday, 18 November 2014

All about the good news

forced friendships fade with fierce foetal heartbeats.
the air is pregnant with families in waiting
and dreams in flight
dynasties want to be alive to fight
an unwinnable battle against the indifferent times
this is where dreams come to die.
work. love. liberation. life.
this is where dreams come alive.
family. birthday baking. festivals. being a mother and wife.
the man walks busily. a son on his mind.
the woman is pain-filled and ponderous
she's with her kind.
a young couple waits in zebra stripes and shorts
a woman with an evil eye charm
is bejewelled and much sought
after by a doting husband who holds
her file
i see him worried even when she smiles.
self conscious men wait in chairs. 
papers magazines and patience.
their wives are inside getting tests
to determine their future vocation.
there is suppressed desperation in the air the chairs and everywhere
but time is of the essence the children can't wait
make haste. 
don't let the eggs go


Wednesday, 15 October 2014

My kind of math

two hands but not mine
ten fingers but not yours
two tongues   you understand
legs entangled  how else can it be
twenty four hundred strands of hair drape across your chest
fingers tries to forget themselves in me
breaths toomany toofast to count
dreams are disparate and differential
emotions are tangential   even a null equation
the unknowns play algebra in the heart

sometimes math can be magical.

Tuesday, 12 August 2014

The Soldier's Wife

Today i mourn an unborn child
he’d have my words
and your many-layered smile
he’d carry an entire village in his head
and wear a slew of medals across his strong chest.
my child would walk mountains with particular ease
and words and music will make his special feast
and he’d like to argue but also to stay calm
and when he’d hug you, why, you’d always stay warm.
yes, my child he’d have stars in his eyes
and a spirit that never says die
and a moodiness that’s yours as much as it’s mine
and a constant craving for the simple life.
maybe he’d write
no, he absolutely will
seeing what brought us together
words will enthral him
keep him still
ah that child of mine
would change you
in so many ways
and so today
i mourn my unborn child
and also, perhaps, my unborn life.

Monday, 31 March 2014

Mountain Pass

everywhere i went you haunted me
and now among the many shades of green
finally i am free
of your ghost and your need.
this is how it comes to pass
in bright autumnal colours
and with the majesty of a many tongued waterfall
it disappears in the oppressive crush of people
who follow nothing except their own hearts.
their hearts cause traffic jams and irate passengers and create a mood that does not bode well for a mending heart.
so amidst the generous display of what the world had to offer in green and greed,
in people and plants,
in water and wanderers,
i let go of you.
wander my restless heart.
breathe deep of the raw fragrance that punctuates the air like an exuberant exclamation point.
search for your own self and soul.
and when you know, just let go.

Thursday, 20 February 2014


i lurk these cyber spaces
there are so many worlds to go
but everywhere i reach to
nothing feels like home.
how sad that though you're
right by my side
search for you this way
but even for
me, dogged pursuer
this journey has been
in vain.
so i move on
as i am wont to do
finding someone better to replace you
and you can go back to your indentured life
but pretend you're your own man
struggling against lies and strife.


If i could i would
steal all the  things
the world doesn't need
and write them into poetry.
an unwanted child
an orphan annie
will feel right at home
with a lost soul like me
and victims of disdain
the unlike other kind
will realise i am good
once i make up my mind
the bird with a broken beak
the woman from a broken home
will find i am broken too
and shelter in my poem
and shall we talk
of books well written
that no one seems to want
i take them in and enjoy
their beauty and their old fashioned font
the desolate man
on a snow-filled peak
finds pleasure in my words’ embrace
he thinks i am his as he reads
there’s no hurry no race
the world keeps looking for ways to discard
the things it thinks it doesn’t need
but for them i ache
and they don't disappoint
despite my indecent greed.