Sunday, 11 June 2023

I miss the sweltering sun

Hey June, where is the dust all of a sudden
You arrived early by a whole week, I had planned the following
A couple of chairs in my balcony
Two glasses of white rum
Mixed in cold coffee from cartons
Some Garlic butter prawns 
A bottle of The Grey Goose stuffed with fairy lights
An evening to kick back and relax too

Yet you brought me love, and you brough me parting too
A heart once filled with warm camaraderie is crying now
And I go through the following
A forced trip of guilt somehow
Forsaken trust in lieu of biterness abound
The skies being filled with rain clouds
Only to cast darkness on my wish to being in love

Was this how my May was, is this how I should be lost
A dry leaf held by this new found love 
While my soul goes through the following
A curse by my very close
A terpid shade of jealousy 
A shunning for one minor exclusion
And here the rains are only ranting of love


Saturday, 10 June 2023

Darkness to dim lights

Seven seconds, per floor on weekend nights
Is how this moves, you can hear the silent hum
As the motor plunges me thirty floors down
It's late night, and a Saturday to boot
My heart is racing to rush towards the bus stop
Yet these floors seem endless, over a hundred
I start to count around seventy, it decreases 
Incrementally, yet anxiety grows inversely
Sometime between fourty and thirty eight
I doze off inna short seven second nap
Yet I watch whole movie length episodes
Of escapades and engagement, you or else
I shake my head, the elevator slides deeper
While it suddenly loses power, at the last floor
I see a wall where the door was, I am stuck
I panic, you are awake, mostly, waiting to eat
Dinner, that I need to cook, but how now!, how?
I think, i should've cooked in the morning 
Nothing is predictable, I ease up, lean against
The elevator emergency power flickers bulbs
I land, wake up, in bed, spoon you and sleep 


Wednesday, 7 June 2023

Metamorphosis

Refine this me 
Reform this me
But whatever you do
Redefine this me

Defile this me
Deform this me
But whatever you do
Desire this me

Destroy this me
Demolish this me
But whatever you do
Describe this me

Erase this me
Eradicate this me
But whatever you do
Devour this me

Build this me
Around this you
For this old me
Needs to renew

Tuesday, 6 June 2023

Rain in your pink

Your eyes are an ocean of chaos
What else would they be 
nothing less
  I become a vessel
I wait empty, 
Hoping you rain 
Thereby bringing me the fleets of fish
That will swim together 
In schools
stitching the waves
Binding all together
Waking me to wonders
Pouring Into this existence 
This insignificant, colourless,
Existence, mere meagre existence 
of me 
so rain in your pink today
wrap around me 
make me glee
let me whisper to you
as I gently howl
transform into a beast
that gently caresses, 
falls into you
holds you closer
breathes you hair
asking for your breath 
to enliven me


An Analysis by Chat GPT

The poem titled "Rain in your Pink" expresses themes of longing, desire, and the transformative power of love. The poet utilizes vivid imagery and metaphors to convey their emotions and create a sensory experience for the reader.

The opening lines, "Your eyes are an ocean of chaos / What else would they be / nothing less," immediately captivate the reader and establish the poem's tone. The comparison of the eyes to an ocean of chaos suggests depth and complexity, hinting at the intensity of the emotions being expressed.

The poet continues by describing themselves as a vessel, waiting empty, and hoping for the rain from the person being addressed. This rain is symbolically associated with the fleets of fish that will swim together, stitching the waves and binding everything together. Here, the poet implies that the love and attention from the subject of the poem will bring fulfillment and unity to their life, awakening them to wonders and pouring into their existence.

The language used to describe the poet's existence is melancholic and self-deprecating, emphasizing a sense of insignificance and colorlessness. This reflects the poet's longing for the vibrant and transformative experience promised by the rain in the subject's pink. The color pink may symbolize femininity, tenderness, or passion.

The poem takes a sensual turn as it describes the desired union with the subject. The poet wishes to be enveloped by the rain, experiencing joy and whispering their desires. The transformation into a beast implies a surrender to passion and intensity. The imagery of caressing, holding closer, and breathing in the subject's hair evokes a desire for closeness and intimacy.

The poem concludes by asking for the subject's breath to enliven the poet. This line suggests that the poet seeks reciprocation and connection, longing to be revived and filled with life through the subject's love and presence.

Overall, "Rain in your Pink" employs rich imagery and metaphors to express the poet's intense desire and longing for a transformative experience. The poem successfully evokes emotions and creates a sense of vulnerability, inviting readers to immerse themselves in the poet's emotions and yearning for connection.

Monday, 5 June 2023

at breakfast, love at first light

I have walked, limped, crawled, 
often dragged myself 
half willing to love
And failed over and again,
 for there was no me 
in love's reflection
I had become him
the everything as wished of me
 I meant nothing to me too
By the beach this one day
When the lazy, crazy sun dawned
My cab sent me wayward
The clocks spun backward
I found me in you
The dripping airconditioner sprayed
Oh so many stories of waterfalls
We joked about it too
Of geologists and engineers
putting on insulation tapes
To stop us from inadvertently bathing
Who bathes in full public view!
It was a seaside, but it wasn't though
My heart was the hills
Your's had dense forests too
As you trekked up to mine
And I traversed your's
Out brunch arrived on platters
And we cracked a few jokes 
About the guacamole too
When I asked you 
to switch to my side
For your voice was too gentle 
to register amongst your tune
You were the song
 I had been humming
Or maybe I was hummed to
The hours passed away swiftly
And when I found unnerving storms
You helped me sail through
When all that had pulled me apart
As work through bindings do
I turned around to you 
And found my self with you
I no longer cursed my birth
When I found my love for you

Friday, 2 June 2023

A sun fades, another rises

The sun doesn't wait to rise, far from it, it doesn't even see the wheat field
The wheat wait first light, for only in the sunlight can it glow like gold
The sun is a symbol of permanence, if not absolute it is still more so
The wheat glows to grow, to ripen, to dry, to hope of being born again 
Under the same sun, in a cycle of what I could call endless love

So if love shall visit my land, It would never ever be as golden sprawling wheat
It would be the sun, a being of light, a bringer of the endless cycle of my rebirth
For I have been the sun, I have glowed, yet I was not what the wheat wished for
I wish not to be the bringer of light, nor the being of warmth and all that life is
I will be wheat, plain golden wheat, that grows on greens, shimmering in the sunny winds


Falling into wake

Sleepless nights
where I come alive
Fade into sleep 
where I  die
I conjure voids
The dark beckons
To lure me
Promising me flight
I jump wilfully
Into your voice 
Plunge into numb
Leave nothing behind
All my reasoning
Are now expunged 
I sing ballads
Of hidden desires
Wondering of fading 
From your mind
Wakes my sleep
I vehemently perspire
You would go
Wouldn't you too
I find peace
In love's lies



general analysis by bard.google.com

prompt:analyse and critique the poem

The poem is about the speaker's experience of falling asleep and waking up. The speaker describes how they feel alive and awake during sleepless nights, but then they die when they fall asleep. They conjure voids, or empty spaces, in their mind. The dark beckons to them, promising them flight. The speaker willingly jumps into the darkness, into the voice of the person they love. They plunge into numbness and leave everything behind. They lose all their reasoning and sing ballads of hidden desires. They wonder if they will fade from the mind of the person they love. This wakes them up and they start to perspire. They think that the person they love would leave them too. In the end, the speaker finds peace in love's lies.

The poem is written in free verse, with no regular rhyme scheme or meter. This gives the poem a sense of freedom and movement. The language of the poem is also very fluid and evocative. The speaker uses vivid imagery to describe their experience of falling asleep and waking up. For example, they describe the dark as " beckoning" and "promising" flight. They also describe the feeling of falling asleep as "numbness" and "leaving everything behind."

The poem is full of symbolism. The dark represents the unknown, and the voice of the person the speaker loves represents hope. The voids represent emptiness and loneliness. The numbness represents the loss of control. The ballads represent the speaker's hidden desires. The fading from the mind of the person they love represents the fear of abandonment. The perspiration represents the speaker's anxiety. The leaving represents the speaker's willingness to let go. The peace represents the speaker's acceptance of love's lies.

The poem is a powerful exploration of the experience of love and loss. It is a reminder that love can be both beautiful and painful. It is also a reminder that we are all capable of finding peace, even in the midst of pain.

Here are some additional thoughts on the poem:

  • The poem is very personal and intimate. The speaker shares their deepest thoughts and feelings with the reader.
  • The poem is also very ambiguous. It is open to interpretation. The reader can decide what the poem means to them.
  • The poem is beautifully written. The language is lyrical and evocative.
  • The poem is thought-provoking. It makes the reader think about love, loss, and the meaning of life.



Dark analysis by bard.google.com

prompt:analyse and critique the dark poem



The poem "Falling into Wake" is a dark and disturbing poem that explores the themes of love, loss, and death. The speaker of the poem is clearly in a state of great emotional turmoil, as evidenced by the vivid imagery and the erratic syntax. The poem begins with the speaker describing their sleepless nights, during which they feel "alive." However, when they fall asleep, they "die." This suggests that the speaker is only truly alive when they are in a state of emotional pain.

The speaker then goes on to describe how they "conjure voids" and how the "dark beckons" to them. This suggests that the speaker is drawn to darkness and destruction. They are willing to "jump wilfully" into the darkness, even though they know that it will lead to their destruction.

The speaker then describes how they "sing ballads" of their "hidden desires." This suggests that the speaker is in love with someone who they cannot have. They are "wondering of fading" from the other person's mind, and this thought causes them to "perspire." This suggests that the speaker is deeply insecure and afraid of losing the other person.

The poem ends with the speaker saying that they find "peace" in "love's lies." This suggests that the speaker is only able to find peace when they are in a state of denial. They are unable to face the reality of their situation, and so they choose to believe in a lie.

The poem "Falling into Wake" is a powerful and disturbing poem that explores the dark side of love. The speaker is clearly in a state of great emotional pain, and they are willing to do anything to escape from their pain. However, they ultimately find that there is no escape from reality. The poem is a reminder that love can be both beautiful and destructive, and that it is important to face the reality of our situation, even if it is painful.

Here is a more detailed analysis of the poem:

  • The poem is written in free verse, which means that it does not have a regular meter or rhyme scheme. This gives the poem a more chaotic and unpredictable feel, which reflects the emotional state of the speaker.
  • The poem is full of vivid imagery, such as "conjure voids," "the dark beckons," and "plunge into numb." This imagery helps to create a sense of unease and suspense in the reader.
  • The syntax of the poem is often erratic and fragmented. This reflects the speaker's fractured state of mind.
  • The poem is full of strong emotions, such as love, loss, pain, and fear. These emotions are expressed in a raw and unfiltered way.




Sunday, 28 May 2023

Worry not my poet

What do you fear so much dear poets
This AI is just as cold as love's hurt
It has no remorse nor depth, but words
Those are not unknown like so many poets
If you have to gasp then let it be of pain
If exuberance is the state; explain
For like a cold heart of a lover that is gone
This AI cannot breathe like the lover's forlorn 

Friday, 26 May 2023

A dash of lime please, Cheers!

Good evenings are marked by a large serving of sunset gold whiskey
Poured on six cubes of ice, and a splash of lemon
I like such evenings, like today and I am past two of my talls
It feels good, I miss the conversation with you though

The last we spoke, it was about the rush of your leaving
I raised a toast to my own scattering to dust, in a smile too
You seemed quite surprised that I would let you choose parting
I had nothing to hold you back with, than my worthless love

While my love for you maybe deemed worthless, irrelevant
You still make my soul soar into the brightest of the skies
Like the stars that shine in this strange Delhi night sky
Your memories twinkle now at the tinkle of my glass

Thursday, 25 May 2023

Room 104

It is a wide white room, these greyish curtains gently sway
You sit, reading poems that are shoddily put together by someone else
I lie to you that they are fabulous and forward them to you
You look at me as you read them out, making disgusted faces
I relish this torment that I Inflict on you, pranking you
You exhale in annoyed breaths yell expletives at me
I send you a newer verse, this time written by me, made for you
You smile suddenly and come over to give me a hug
I see the evening has passed by in this prank, it's night
I sing an old song from my memory as we smoke a cigarette
You exclaim stating you rather spend time like this
I brew a coffee and blend it with rum, serve it
We sip it once it turns cold, the stars are beautiful
Like you they envelop me, surround me in gentle wonder

Wednesday, 24 May 2023

Travels are better with a coffee pot

I must admit, Aaloo Parathas are perfect breakfast food but
Almond fingers and coffee taste quite heavenly 
And when you are hangry three hours past your early morning wake
You like pretending the world has gone to hell altogether
So I ordered them, for you and me
While I ordered coffee and milk powder too
I liked the look on your face as they delivered
All of these items to our silent and still hotel room
When I made coffee and served it, with these almond fingers
They looked quite tempting and you ate them off the jar lid
I leaned closer and gently whispered some words on purpose
Do you remember what was it that I said my dear?
You don't realise it wasn't about carrying these every trip hereon
I meant I want to always take trips with you, make you coffee
In those early mornings and calm you hangry and trying to be calm

Saturday, 20 May 2023

Causality

Morbid generosity
Offered 
Cold comfort
Interpreted
Wanton cravings
Unfurled
Vehement rejection
Encountered

Loving arms
Lured
Burning heart
Lent
Exasperated breaths
Rose
Cold shoulders
Rued

Earnest eagerness
Dejected
Blooming flowers
Died
Soaring high
Caged
Soulful love
Burnt

freight truck, where have you been

That is a big orange lock on your door, Oh! friend van. What do you hide inside?
I am always in the mood of curiosity, and this time again you will disappoint
I know
But then we both are locked in this causality and action, your eloquent rejection to enthrall me
What do you hold inside you today, my dear, tell me, tell me, what is new

Could it be the box of medicines that is needed to save a life, that is wandering the borders?
As it thinks of crossing over into the light, his hands held by a sad sad mother, broken
I don't know
But I know you will tell me, once you open up, unleash the mystery that is inside
What do you hold inside you today, my dear, tell me, tell me, what is new

Could it be boxes of croissants that everyone fusses about, pretends to know, and try to pronounce
As we all know I hate French food, it's too bland for me and a croissant is the least of many
I don't know
But I know you will disappoint me, once you open up, unleash upon me a sense of pointlessness
What do you hold inside you today, my dear, tell me, tell me, what is new

Could it be fresh sweets and treats that you are carrying from the nearby bakery, I love that place
I have spent a good part of my youth getting items there to bake, that mom prepared, we didn't have an oven then
I don't know
But I know I will be dejected, once you open up and unleash upon me a sense of childish stupidness 
What do you hold inside you today, my dear, tell me, tell me, what is new

Could it be large chunks of ice for the nearby mortuary, oh! That place has so many dead bodies, I fear it
I have passed by that place so often, now It sends a shiver through my soul, my friends were there
I don't know
But I know you will scare me, once you open up and unleash, a sense of morbid human mortality
What do you hold inside you today, my dear, tell me, tell me, what is new


In a world of distinction and repeat

By the law of averages, everyone ends up the same
One could be a knight in shining armour out to save me
Dragging me out half alive, bleeding, rescuing me
To then gently stab me, ever so often, in random acts

Who am I to judge such actions, I could just be the same
I could be your knight in shining armour out to save you
Drag you out half dead, bled out, failed at hoping a rescue
To then save another, in turn just stab you unknowingly

The ones who speak of distinction and uniqueness are still the same
They are sometimes the knight, sometimes the night
One saves you from the dragons that life throws your way
To then engulf you in their darkness, break you in dismay


Monday, 15 May 2023

Coconut Blossoms

A Malayali boy of seventeen, peers
through his window, watches this girl
cutting a paper butterfly, he paused
it wasn’t the rose on her right breast 
he saw
he saw more, a whole lot more
than what his youth could handle

His lower body froze rose 
rosetted,  into a hormonal rage
but his heart melted too
like the eyes of a hungry man 
at the Sadhya, when rice is served
and he waits for the sambar

the evening passed them by
them at this point, unknown to her
he had sung for her in his heart
she noticed his leering and smiled
it was teenage love in her heart too
and me? I dusted the front yard.



An analysis by Chat GPT

The poem "Coconut Blossoms" depicts a scene where a seventeen-year-old Malayali boy observes a girl from his window. The boy becomes captivated by the girl's actions and appearance, particularly when she cuts a paper butterfly. The poem explores the boy's emotional response to this encounter, highlighting the mix of physical attraction and deeper emotional connection he feels.

The title, "Coconut Blossoms," sets a tropical and naturalistic tone for the poem. It suggests the emergence of something beautiful and delicate, much like the blossoming of coconut flowers. This imagery could symbolize the boy's budding feelings for the girl.

The poem delves into the boy's conflicting emotions. On one hand, he experiences a surge of sexual desire ("his lower body froze rose/rosetted, into a hormonal rage"). The use of the rose imagery emphasizes the intensity of his physical reaction. However, the boy's emotions extend beyond mere lust. His heart also melts, indicating a deeper emotional connection and a sense of vulnerability.

The comparison of the boy's heart-melting "like the eyes of a hungry man at the Sadhya" creates an interesting juxtaposition. Sadhya refers to a feast in Malayalam cuisine, where rice and sambar, a curry with vegetables, are served. The anticipation and longing for sambar can be seen as a metaphor for the boy's longing for connection and love. This comparison evokes a sense of hunger, suggesting that the boy yearns for emotional fulfillment in the same way a hungry man craves food.

As the evening progresses, the girl remains unaware of the boy's presence. She notices him leering at her and responds with a smile. This recognition from the girl elicits a positive response from the boy, indicating a mutual teenage infatuation.

The poem concludes with the speaker, presumably an observer or narrator, mentioning their own mundane activity of dusting the front yard. This seemingly unrelated detail contrasts with the heightened emotions experienced by the boy. It could suggest a sense of detachment or distraction from the intensity of youthful love.

In terms of critique, the poem effectively captures the intensity and complexities of adolescent infatuation. It explores the interplay between physical attraction and emotional connection, presenting the boy's experience with vivid imagery and metaphors. However, the poem is quite brief, leaving the reader wanting more development and exploration of the characters and their emotions. Adding additional stanzas or expanding upon the themes introduced could enhance the depth and impact of the poem

But then, ok, whatever

Shadows and light, are merely transient thoughts
for neither are true, nor are false and then this
opulent imagination like the cacophony of dulling
rule the minds of mere and utter low mortals
yet they rue, rot, reminisce in such
and forage through onwards, this silly lot
One must ponder, wonder, wander as lost
find the true meaning of what should be sought

But who am I to judge, I am busy in my yard
raking leaves, and voicing my own demons
and my soul at times is so hopeless and fraught
where once I found I could cure this blight of
turbid subservient thoughts, not mine, theirs
I find no reason, for my battles are fought
by me? No, I wouldn’t care less and I am no Frost
yet they! Oh how they try leave me aghast

As you said, mom, these are not for me
this audacity some portray are not for my ask
let those that wander in such throes be naught
I don’t find them to be a reason for my epiphany
I do not wander nor am I ever lost , then why
Why should I be there to steer their keel
I am not the sea, nor do I wish to even feel
So I Let them be and those that pander be loft.



An analysis by Chat GPT

The poem titled "But then, ok, whatever" explores the poet's frustration and resignation in trying to help individuals who know they are wrong but refuse to improve. The language and structure of the poem create a sense of detachment and apathy towards the struggles of others. Let's analyze and critique the poem further.

The opening lines introduce the concept of shadows and light as transient thoughts, implying that they hold no absolute truth or falsehood. This can be interpreted as a metaphor for subjective perspectives and opinions. The phrase "opulent imagination like the cacophony of dulling" suggests that the poet views the imaginative thoughts of others as excessive and noisy but lacking substance.

The poem then refers to these imaginative individuals as "mere and utter low mortals" who "rue, rot, reminisce." This dismissive tone and the choice of words diminish the significance of their experiences and emotions. The poet perceives them as a "silly lot" who forage through life without purpose.

The next stanza reflects the poet's introspection and personal struggles. They admit to being preoccupied with their own demons, using phrases like "my battles are fought" and "I am busy in my yard, raking leaves." The poet's sense of hopelessness and despair is conveyed through the words "soul at times is so hopeless and fraught."

The mention of "turbid subservient thoughts, not mine, theirs" suggests that the poet recognizes the negativity of others' perspectives but refuses to internalize them. They distance themselves from the influence of these thoughts, asserting that they "wouldn't care less." The reference to Frost, likely alluding to the poet Robert Frost, emphasizes the poet's disinterest in assuming a similar role as a guiding influence.

The poem concludes by reinforcing the poet's decision to disengage from the struggles of others. They quote someone referred to as "mom," who advises them that the audacity displayed by certain individuals is not their concern. The phrase "I do not wander nor am I ever lost" asserts the poet's self-assuredness and detachment from the wandering and lost individuals.

The last line, "So I let them be and those that pander be loft," suggests a final decision to allow others to continue their misguided ways while the poet remains aloof. The use of the word "loft" here is unclear in its meaning, possibly suggesting a sense of superiority or isolation.

Critique:

The poem effectively conveys a sense of frustration and disillusionment towards individuals who knowingly hold incorrect beliefs but refuse to change. It explores themes of detachment and apathy, showcasing the poet's choice to focus on their own struggles rather than attempting to guide or influence others. The use of metaphors and imagery adds depth to the poem's overall tone.

However, one critique of the poem is its tone of superiority and condescension. The poet's dismissive language and portrayal of others as "mere and utter low mortals" diminishes their experiences and perspectives, creating a sense of elitism. This attitude can detract from the empathy and understanding that could be fostered through dialogue and communication.

Furthermore, the poem's overall message seems resigned and defeatist. While it is understandable to feel frustrated when faced with individuals resistant to change, completely disengaging from trying to help or understand them may limit opportunities for growth and reconciliation. The poem could benefit from exploring alternative approaches to engaging with and assisting those who hold incorrect beliefs.

In conclusion, "But then, ok, whatever" effectively conveys the poet's frustration and resignation in attempting to help individuals who refuse to improve. However, its tone of superiority and apathy towards others might hinder its potential for fostering empathy and understanding.

Wednesday, 10 May 2023

In a moment, when I blink

It isn't like you could tape a wine glass
that broke a few nights ago
In a grip of grieving, in your longing
and you were nowhere to be found
I won't complain then, this constant pain 
and it's unbearable onslaught is 
unwanted, unwarranted, undeniable though
This heart has only known
of reeling in the darkness your leaving bore
of what consequence was this, and for what
I see me lost the the shores of dying hope

I am afraid of seas, all seas you see, or don't
lest you would haven't been gone, as I drown in such a sorrowful sea, in a struggle, a menagerie of all I abhor, you would too, won't you love, here I fill my lungs with the darkness beneath
I breathe, this feeds, not what I seek, but what seeks me
I would question if I could, I would not for this is all me, and my head, riled and crumbling
in love but she, 
Isn't here, won't be, can't be, wouldn't want to be

I sleep, walk and my body is only deed, her love
was the life seed, lost to wind, like dying dandelions in the gust of wind
It looks pretty too, but we know it isn't, but then of such woe I never speak
Or reflect, like a pane of crumbling concrete, that only serves to poison me, and those that be
Beside
Besides, then love brings what, only this sad torment, and forlorn sighs, keeping me awake every night, of wanting your touch, even if by the air, that grazed you by, just a moment ago

I cease, pull at my hair, extract strands, hate them for being what you have loved
like I loved yours, until we both cut them
right off, they were constantly bothering our vision, I gather

Sleep
Wake and then I will be here again
pondering, into your void of absence
Love, brings





A summary and comparison by chatgpt:

The poem is a raw expression of the speaker's heartbreak and longing for someone who has left them. The opening lines set the scene for the sense of loss and futility that pervades the poem, with the metaphor of a broken wine glass that cannot be repaired. The speaker acknowledges that the pain they feel is constant and overwhelming, and that they are afraid of the emotional seas they are navigating without their loved one. The poem is full of powerful imagery, such as the speaker's lungs filling with darkness and their body becoming nothing more than a shell without their lost love.

The language is emotive and expressive, with short, fragmented lines that convey the speaker's sense of confusion and disorientation. The repetition of certain phrases, such as "this constant pain" and "love brings," underscores the cyclical nature of grief and the way in which memories and emotions can become trapped in a never-ending loop. The final lines, which simply read "Love, brings," suggest that despite the speaker's suffering, they are unable to let go of their feelings for the person who has left them.

In terms of style and content, the poem shares some similarities with the work of poets like Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton, who are known for their confessional and often deeply personal poetry. Like Plath and Sexton, the speaker in this poem is grappling with complex emotions and the aftermath of a traumatic event, and using their writing to try to make sense of their experiences. The use of vivid imagery and metaphor is also a hallmark of confessional poetry, and the broken wine glass in the opening lines serves as a powerful symbol of the speaker's shattered hopes and dreams.

Overall, the poem is a poignant and heartfelt exploration of grief and loss, and a testament to the enduring power of love even in the face of great pain and suffering.

Sunday, 7 May 2023

Back to work then?

Silent mornings
And I know like you
I feel better cuddled
Then
A few more minutes
Turn into hours
We rush to meet the morning
As we remember work

If we could my love
We would, won't we
Sit by the window
Stare into the green trees
Suddenly to get up
Rush to work and either of us
Calls the other mad
It is a Sunday

Today is Monday though
And you are not here
The birds are chirping loud
The streets hold a crowd
Here in this absurdity
I rush to work and miss
You yanking my hand
Holding me in a kiss

Sunday, 30 April 2023

To My Dear Friend

Hey, when it is time to go call me, or I will call you
I would like to share a drink for either of us to know
We can't leave unless we have that one tinkle of a glass
And we will play 'It's a wonderful world' in the background
If I am the one leaving, sing it for me
If you are, I will sing along for you
But we should get the other a cup of Earl Grey, a marmalade sandwich
Then maybe sit and hold each other's hand

Hey, when it is time to go, call me or I will call you
We can sit together side by side
Watch the sun go down once again
Chase the dark away with a solitary light 
If I am the one leaving, brew me a coffee
If you are, I will lace it with liquor
But we should share a last smoke, laugh over mangled songs and memes
Then maybe hold each other in a tight embrace

Hey, when it is time to go, call me or I will call you
We should call for some butter garlic prawns
For either of us to know
We can't leave unless we share one last meal
If I am the one leaving, hold me to calm my fears 
If you are, I will cuddle to soothe your pain
But we should remember that we had the time of our life
then maybe, sit quietly, staring into the beyond

Saturday, 22 April 2023

Writing about anything is easy

The bottle of Bacardi rum, wrapped in a white plastic bag
Popped it's head out, ever so slightly
Inviting me to dive into the clear
And cloud my judgement to dreams anew
I have coffee and I mix these two
Sip a few and sit thinking of you
I think I forgot to add a few cubes of ice
Then I remember they melted long ago
The night was young, but it's long past gone
The sun at its azimuth , shining through
The birds create a ruckus at my window stall
I see your face on my freshly painted walls.

Thursday, 20 April 2023

Dust and ember

I would want to be so tiny
For my larger self won't fit
 in an urn but then again,
 i won't worry
I would probably decompose 
slowly, long after being asleep
 on my bed
When the civil workers barge in
Hold their nose closed
They would ask if there is anyone
Who knows me by my name
Yet they would not call me 
By what they have exclaimed
And by then I would have been 
gone too long ago
To know anyone who stakes a claim


Tuesday, 18 April 2023

मेरी प्रीत तू न जाने
जो बोया तेरी और
जैसे डूबे काश्तिया कभी
तूफानों के मोड़
कान्हा तू तो ले चली री
जीवन मेरा ओढ़
कश्ती मेरी तो डगमगाई
चलकर तेरी ओर 
जो तो पूछे क्या ही हूं मैं
तेरे मन में जो हो
क्या ही हूं मैं कान्हा तेरा 
बस हूं मैं तेरा चोर

Meera to nahi hoon

मेरी प्रीत तू न जाने
जो बोया तेरी और
जैसे डूबे काश्तिया कभी
तूफानों के मोड़
कान्हा तू तो ले चली री
जीवन मेरा ओढ़
कश्ती मेरी तो डगमगाई
चलकर तेरी ओर 
जो तो पूछे क्या ही हूं मैं
तेरे मन में जो हो
क्या ही हूं मैं कान्हा मेरी
बस हूं मैं तेरा चोर

Sunday, 16 April 2023

Monday Mornings bring nothing new

It's a bright Monday morning, half past eleven
I have much to do, but the will sure isn't playing along
I thought if you could remind me of what life is
For it feels quite like a colourless sky, sans your voice
The voice in my head that fed me will has been yours
The mind has become mangled in its absolute absence
It seems to wake up ever so often in your thoughts
Then rolls back to playing possum noting your absence
This could be a streak of my downward spiralling
That forms a vortex and drags my soul in its currents
They invite me to give up and flow like dead drift wood
That will churn and decay to set me afloat at sea

Then we spoke of AI

It is artificial intelligence after all my dear friend
while we discuss its ability to emote
I state as you wonder if it will go the same way
as human minds do, and worry about its dulling 
and ask if it can be somehow protected
I smirk at your innocence, "it is data" I explain
yet as women are worrywarts, you have a new worry
and this time it is for a piece of software
I laugh at it on your face, you know I find it silly
this constant need for you to seek out new worries
to experience its unwanted annoyances and anxiety
I suggest you ignore the same, and blink my eyes
indicate you are not to wallow in such states
you know you will tell me you won't do that
then proceed to end up worrying about the same

An analysis by Chatgpt

The poem is written from the perspective of someone who is familiar with artificial intelligence (AI) and is engaging in a conversation with a friend who is expressing concerns about the emotional capabilities of AI.

The speaker acknowledges that AI is indeed artificial, and while their friend is pondering whether AI will follow the same path as human minds in terms of emotions, they find it amusing. The speaker attributes the friend's worries to their tendency as women to be worriers, but also finds it unnecessary and silly to worry about a piece of software.

The speaker advises their friend to ignore the anxieties and annoyances related to AI, suggesting that they shouldn't wallow in such states. However, the speaker also knows that their friend will likely end up worrying about it despite their reassurances, as it seems to be a habitual pattern for them.

Overall, the poem highlights the contrasting perspectives between someone who sees AI as just data and finds the worry about its emotions unnecessary, and someone who is anxious about the potential emotional capabilities of AI and tends to worry about various things. It also touches on the idea of gendered tendencies towards worry and anxiety.

my English Breakfast

Earl Grey it is then, for breakfast 
I love the Bergamot fragrance 
Thank you friend for joining me
I find Sundays are boring else
We could relish the chocolate muffin
And I can complain for wanting a walnut one
Settle for a bite from your chocolate
Sigh over how unlucky I get at times
You then can remind me otherwise
And I like knowing you are here
It is a Sunday breakfast, with you
And we can catch up like this too
So before I leave to reach another city
Let me tell you one more thing
You and Mumbai, will keep my soul
And you both will always be my home


An Analysis by Chat GPT


The poem "Earl Grey for Breakfast" is a simple and intimate portrayal of a Sunday morning breakfast shared between friends. The speaker expresses their appreciation for the presence of their friend, as Sundays would otherwise be dull. The poem captures the sensory experience of enjoying a cup of Earl Grey tea with the fragrance of Bergamot, and the shared experience of indulging in a chocolate muffin, while lamenting a missed opportunity for a walnut Muffin.

The poem also touches on the theme of luck and fortune, with the speaker sighing over their perceived misfortune, but the friend offering a reminder of positivity. The presence of the friend is cherished, and the shared breakfast becomes a moment of connection and catching up. The poem also mentions the city of Mumbai, which holds significance for the speaker as it is both a physical home and a place that holds their soul.

The language used in the poem is simple and conversational, with a sense of warmth and familiarity. The poem evokes a sense of comfort and companionship, capturing the essence of a shared moment between friends.

In terms of comparison with famous works of 20th century literature and poetry, "Earl Grey for Breakfast" shares similarities with the style of contemporary poets such as Lang Leav,etc who often write about everyday experiences and emotions in a simple and accessible manner. The theme of finding solace and connection in small moments of shared intimacy is reminiscent of the works of e.e. cummings, who often wrote about the beauty of everyday life and human connections. Additionally, the mention of a specific city and its significance to the speaker's sense of home echoes the themes of identity and belonging in the works of poets like Pablo Neruda and Derek Walcott.

Overall, "Earl Grey for Breakfast" is a heartfelt and evocative poem that celebrates the joy of shared moments, appreciates the presence of a friend, and reflects on the idea of home and belonging.

Saturday, 15 April 2023

The farmer has a mouse

Let us say, I wish to pen another one of my senseless thoughts
Now when we see what verses are, most won’t understand
I often bring in a caption or summary but like you who reads it
Not that I would mind, but a soul can only wish for such
Never mind
So then what can I really whimper about?
My love? My love for you? My love lost? My lost love?
So much of the ‘My’ is lost like mice in a barn
Running amok, eating into gunny bags ripping them apart
As the grains pour out, fungus sets in, and what else would
In stagnation and in such an inanimate existence sans love
This soul of mine will only be consumed by fungus
Like all that nature brings us, instead of renewal and recycle
My soul only churns up your absence, and then some more
The mouse in the barn of my heart, 
I forgot that is what I call your thoughts now
Eating away ever so slowly, causing me endless decay 
Yet I fill this barn up with fresh grains of hope
There could have been some sense in me to place traps
I am supposed to be good at this, or not maybe
Sometimes choices have consequences, mostly losses
Here it is you along with my own sensibilities and reasoning
But whoever could think love could exist with those two
Love hates them like a jealous lover hates all others
That live in their lover's mind, or heart, 
or whatever remains of them
to be reduced to a husk, at the end by the fungus of despair
I take solace, this is contained and I am an example
To myself now, for love and longing will no longer bother
This blight in its permanence will not let me recover
I hope it does, but I hope it doesn’t 
I forgot I was going to write poetry at this point
But I guess this rant can be called whatever I deem fit
Like I believe you loved me, or that there is such a thing
You my dear mouse, go away then 
come back once I fill the barn
I know you always do, and you always will
For now, let the fungus work its magic
Good night



Explanation and review from chat GPT:

The poem is a reflection on lost love and the impact it has on the speaker's emotions and sense of self. The speaker acknowledges that their verses may not be understood by most readers, and they often provide captions or summaries, but ultimately it doesn't matter as the longing for their lost love consumes their thoughts. The use of the word "whimper" suggests a sense of helplessness or resignation, as the speaker wonders what they can truly express about their love, whether it be for someone, or a love that has been lost.

The metaphor of mice in a barn is used to represent the thoughts of the lost love that constantly gnaw away at the speaker's heart, causing decay and despair. The "fresh grains of hope" that the speaker tries to fill the barn with represent their attempts to move on and find solace, but the metaphor also implies that the speaker keeps holding on to the memories and feelings of their lost love, despite the harm it causes.

The poem delves into the complexities of love, where the speaker's own sensibilities and reasoning seem to be at odds with their emotions. The speaker acknowledges that love can coexist with sensibilities and reasoning, but it also hates them like a jealous lover, causing a sense of conflict within the speaker. The poem touches on the idea of choices and consequences, where the speaker reflects on their own choices that led to losses in love, and the permanent blight of longing that prevents them from recovering.

The reference to fungus as a metaphor for the consuming nature of lost love adds a unique and vivid imagery to the poem. Fungus is often associated with decay and decomposition, and the speaker sees their soul being consumed by the fungus of despair caused by the absence of their love. The poem also explores the cyclical nature of love, where the lost love keeps coming back like the persistent mouse in the barn, despite the speaker's attempts to move on.

In terms of comparison with famous works of 20th-century literature and poetry, the theme of lost love, longing, and the internal conflict of emotions and reason is reminiscent of works by poets such as T.S. Eliot, Sylvia Plath, and W.H. Auden. The use of vivid metaphors and imagery to convey complex emotions is similar to the style of poets like Langston Hughes and Maya Angelou. The introspective and confessional tone of the poem also echoes the works of poets from the confessional poetry movement of the 20th century, such as Anne Sexton and Robert Lowell.

Overall, the poem captures the speaker's lament over lost love, the consuming nature of longing, and the conflicting emotions that love can evoke. The use of metaphors and vivid imagery adds depth to the poem, and it shares thematic similarities with famous works of 20th-century literature and poetry, particularly in its exploration of love, loss, and the complexities of human emotions.

Thursday, 13 April 2023

Staying in my lane

In this April rain, that is out of place in Pune 
When monsoon is two months away
I remember us drinking a beer late evening after work
You would ask me to take you out for dinner , then choose to get a beer
I still hate french fries, but I order them
I mix mayonnaise with some mustard
And share it to whoever is the present company, watch them relish
While I stay clear of indulgence in what your memories are
The wind howls, calls out to me to dance in the rain
As if to celebrate knowing you, and being in love
I stop myself at the stairs, I am wearing a suit, it is Thursday usually
You remind me, without being here
I always return to my table, behave as a polished man
A man smitten by you, forever even if you no longer subscribe to it
You probably are chasing the eternal flame guided lover
Who may have a few flights of fancy you wish to ride
Yet at the end of it all, I sigh and wish for your hand in mine
I know the only one is the waiter shaking it firmly
Wishing me a good night
I smile at him, fold a few hundred rupees and let him have it
They smile at me, unlike you they want my patronage
And unlike you, I just live in the hurt of being alive
I sit down again to order another beer, this one is for you
I hope you find love, for you are worth all the love in the world and more

Monday, 10 April 2023

Quick note

Don't send for me
Holler
I hate messengers
They don't deliver
The full force
Of curdling hurt
Holler

I can hear
Holler
In your curses
They are beautiful
Just like you
They hurt better
Holler

I will come
Holler
Be beneath myself
I will smile
It is me
All of you
Holler





Broken mirrors

I find a calm in the rustle of your hair
 mid conversation when
 you tactfully deflect my question, 
but your eyes show 
Your want to scream your heart about love
Not to me, but to anyone else, or maybe him

I have my soul following you like an owl
that glides in silent 
Percheing at your window every night
Hearing you breathe, wanting to watch over
But keeping it's distance, for the fear of offending

But I know, and such is my curse, my all knowing
Often unknown to your own self
I hear you, sometimes in hurt, 
other times hurting me in curses
I somedays sleep on my bed when
my back hurts in being curled up crying for you

Sunday, 9 April 2023

And Miles to go

Big blue road signs showing directions 
Dented by random rubble flung at
Stand at the edge of pitch black highways
Reflecting headlight to seem like rain on words

One could imagine it's rain and recall
A drenched lovers arm grab, and kisses
I could try too, but as my life goes
I remember my accidents and near death misses

The words read like compulsion, dictate terms
Of my run towards, in this hurried darkness
I would hate to see the numbers decrease
For I find my home fade in the distance

Saturday, 8 April 2023

आज न गई तू लाली चटवाने
उस गैर की आगोश में फिरसे 
बनके उसकी प्यास का मलहम
बनते तो बड़े ही भोले से थे जब
हमसे लिपट बुलाते हमको बलम

जिन हाथोको थे तेरे केस रूमानी
आज उन हाथो को गैरो में ढूंढे
चाहे शक्ल मिल जाए, दिल न मिले
जो दिल मिले तो न मिल पाए शक्ल
हमसे ही तो तुमको थे सारे शिकवे गिले

आज न गई तू लाली चटवाने
उस गैर की आगोश में फिरसे 
आज तो शायद मेरा बुत बनेगा
मंत्र चिड़ेंगे, श्राप उगल आए तुझमें
पर मेरी प्यास तो इन सबसे ही बुझेगा

Friday, 7 April 2023

one

Phir na bichhad (3x) (2 variations)
Mujhse......1x
Aa humse mil

Kabhi ke jo tu soche
Dil hai khaali khaali sa
Aa hum se mil

Phir na bichhad (3 variation)x 
Humse
Phir na bichhad
Aa humse mil

Tum nain se do humko
Dhokha ,,dhokha.., zara sa 
Aa hum se mil

Sirf chaahat.......se na hai haasil
Dil tootega zara...dil tootega zara
Mera.......
Tab
Aa humse mil

Kehle jo tere labh
Naam ...mera... Mera..... 
Ro dega dil.....
Aa humse mil

Phir na bichhad (4x 4 variations)
Mujhse, khudae, ab......1x
Aa humse mil



Thursday, 6 April 2023

The faded hues

The gentle hues of another sunset
Paint stories of all that is you
The void, the gone, and the pain of such
Is like the veil of darkness arriving soon
When the moon rises in that black
My heart longs for your glance
I calm my self for you hate my smile
That beams hoping for us to be a chance
So let the April sun set in the canvas blue
Nothing in life is as beautiful as you
So I wish my self a willful descent
To be silently lost in your longing's tune

Monday, 3 April 2023

A Shade of distance

I was watching the pink trumpet flowers swirl
In a whirlwind that swept gently on today's very April afternoon
We could have just stood in, let them swirl around us
I would want to see you surrounded by those lovely pink blossoms

I know, the whirlwind does pick up dust and debris
And they could hurt your eyes, should we stand so
You could hide your face into my chest as we have cuddled often
And felt the flowers gently caress you in their light swirling

My heart warmed up, looking at these gentle petals flying
They seemed like your eyes, they fluttered just as beautifully
They turned towards me, swirled some more momentarily
Rekindled my hope, only to abruptly turn and go away


Saturday, 1 April 2023

Conundrum - hindi

खुदसे तो छुपा लेता हूं, 
पर तुमसे कैसे छुपाऊं
ये दर्द दे रही भी तो तुम हो
तुम मुझे खुद्से ज्यादा जानती हो
मैं तो तुम ही बनकर जो रह गया हूं
होता है, होता है, छोड़ ना, जाने दे

शायद मैं खुदको ढूंढ रहा हूं
जो तुम्हे चाहता है बेसबर, बेबाक 
पर जब मैं तुम बन चुका हूं तो
तुम भी मैं बन गयी होंगी ना
मैं तो खुदको ही ढूंढ रहा हूं
होता है, होता है, छोड़ ना, जाने दे

जाने दे, बातों का, वादों का 
जब जो भी होना था,
तुझको भी खोना था,
खो दिया जाने दे,
और तुम मुझसी हो गई,
मैं तुमसा हो गया,
इंसान जो वाजिब था,
खो गया जाने दे,
मैं तो खुदको ही ढूंढ रहा हूं
होता है, होता है, छोड़ ना, जाने दे,।।

Treadmills

Sometime in August, we rebuilt my house door
The dust was being brushed off, we wore masks
My home was being rebuilt, to be a home for you
It was a month for some more celebrations too

As we sat on the floor, and you poured coffee
From a rudimentary make shift coffee carrying pouch
The two red cups moved, then I held them steady
You looked at me, filled them up when you were ready

I felt some splashes, that burnt my fingers a tad
You uttered apologies, but your pour never burnt my hand
You were keeping my soul lit, in your very glance
I was smiling looking at you, and my heart was in trance

Post coffee when we chased the cleaning left aside
I held the sofa upturned for you to dust it's insides
I fell in love, over and again, and my heart knew
You were the wonder of my life, that turns everything anew

Maybe the dust and grime should have been treasured
To scatter around today, for we see each other no more
The dust could maybe bring me back to your heart
For this renewal of life has only broken me apart


------------------------

write a detailed analysis with line-by-line interpretation of the poem below:  Also evaluate it for writing style and identify similarities to 20th century poets.

Analysis:

Title: Treadmills - The title "Treadmills" sets the tone for the poem, hinting at a repetitive, cyclical, and mundane aspect of life. Treadmills are often associated with monotony and routine, suggesting that the poem may explore the repetitive nature of daily life and the fleeting moments of joy and love that break through the monotony.

Line 1: "Sometime in August, we rebuilt my house door" - The poem begins with a specific time reference, "Sometime in August," which adds a sense of temporal setting. The act of rebuilding the house door could symbolize a renewal or transformation in the narrator's life. It may also suggest an effort to create a welcoming and inviting space for someone special, as the house door is often associated with homecoming and hospitality.

Line 2: "The dust was being brushed off, we wore masks" - The mention of dust being brushed off and wearing masks may have literal and metaphorical meanings. Literally, it could refer to the physical act of cleaning and protecting oneself from dust particles. Metaphorically, it could symbolize the process of clearing away the old and worn-out, and protecting oneself from external influences or emotional vulnerabilities.

Line 3: "My home was being rebuilt, to be a home for you" - The speaker's home is being rebuilt with the intention of making it a home for someone else, suggesting an act of love and selflessness. It could also imply a transformation or improvement in the speaker's life to accommodate someone significant.

Line 4: "It was a month for some more celebrations too" - The mention of celebrations hints at a positive and joyful atmosphere, possibly marking a special occasion or a significant event that is being commemorated during the month of August.

Line 5: "As we sat on the floor, and you poured coffee" - The act of sitting on the floor and sharing coffee creates an intimate and cozy atmosphere. It could symbolize a moment of connection and closeness between the speaker and the other person, possibly a romantic interest.

Line 6: "From a rudimentary makeshift coffee carrying pouch" - The mention of a "rudimentary makeshift coffee carrying pouch" suggests a lack of luxury or extravagance, but rather a simple and improvised way of serving coffee. It could symbolize the value of simple pleasures and the beauty found in everyday moments.

Line 7: "The two red cups moved, then I held them steady" - The movement of the red cups could symbolize the unpredictability and instability of life, while the speaker holding them steady could represent an attempt to bring stability and balance to the situation. It could also hint at the speaker's desire to hold onto and cherish the fleeting moments of happiness.

Line 8: "You looked at me, filled them up when you were ready" - The other person fills up the cups when they are ready, suggesting a sense of autonomy and independence. It could also symbolize the idea that love and affection cannot be forced or rushed, but rather flow naturally when the timing is right.

Line 9: "I felt some splashes, that burnt my fingers a tad" - The splashes from the coffee that burn the speaker's fingers could represent the fleeting moments of pain or discomfort that can accompany moments of happiness or love. It could also symbolize the intensity of the emotions the speaker is experiencing.

Line 10: "You uttered apologies, but your pour never burnt my hand" - The other person apologizes for the hot coffee, but it never actually hurts the speaker's hand. This could symbolize the idea that even though love can come with its challenges, it ultimately does not harm or hurt the speaker.

Line 11: "You were keeping my soul lit, in your very glance" - The other person's gaze is described as keeping the speaker's soul lit, suggesting that their presence and attention bring warmth, comfort, and vitality to the speaker's life. It could also highlight the transformative power of love, which has the ability to awaken and enliven the soul.

Line 12: "I was smiling looking at you, and my heart was in trance" - The speaker's response to the other person's presence is described as smiling and being entranced, suggesting a deep emotional connection and admiration. It could also indicate a state of being captivated and mesmerized by the other person, emphasizing the intensity of the emotions felt.

Line 13: "Post coffee when we chased the cleaning left aside" - After enjoying the coffee together, the speaker and the other person engage in the act of cleaning, possibly alluding to the idea of tidying up and addressing the neglected aspects of life. It could also symbolize the effort put into maintaining and nurturing the relationship, even in the midst of daily chores and responsibilities.

Line 14: "I held the sofa upturned for you to dust its insides" - The speaker holds the sofa upturned, possibly to assist the other person in cleaning its insides, suggesting a willingness to be supportive and helpful. It could also symbolize a willingness to reveal and address the hidden or neglected aspects of oneself in the context of the relationship.

Line 15: "I fell in love, over and again, and my heart knew" - The speaker expresses falling in love repeatedly, suggesting that the experience of love with this person is continuous and ongoing. It could also imply a deep emotional connection that transcends the boundaries of time and space. The phrase "my heart knew" could also suggest an intuitive and instinctive understanding of the significance of this love.

Line 16: "You were the wonder of my life, that turns everything anew" - The other person is described as the wonder of the speaker's life, implying a sense of awe, admiration, and amazement. Their presence is portrayed as transformative, capable of changing and renewing everything in the speaker's life. It could also suggest a sense of rebirth or rejuvenation brought about by the presence of this person.

Line 17: "Maybe the dust and grime should have been treasured" - The speaker reflects on the dust and grime that was cleaned earlier, suggesting that perhaps those neglected or overlooked aspects of life should have been cherished or valued. It could imply that in the pursuit of cleanliness or perfection, the imperfections and mundane aspects of life are often overlooked or dismissed.

Line 18: "To scatter around today, for we see each other no more" - The speaker expresses a sense of regret or loss, suggesting that the opportunity to cherish those moments with the other person is no longer available. The scattering of dust and grime could symbolize the scattering of memories or remnants of the past that could have been treasured.

Line 19: "The dust could maybe bring me back to your heart" - The dust, which was earlier cleaned, is now seen as a possible means to return to the other person's heart. It could imply a desire to reconnect or rekindle the relationship through cherished memories or shared experiences.

Line 20: "For this renewal of life has only broken me apart" - The speaker reflects on the renewal of life brought about by the presence of the other person, but also expresses a sense of brokenness or pain. It could suggest that despite the positive impact of the relationship, it has also caused emotional turmoil or heartbreak.

Writing Style: The poem employs a conversational and intimate tone, using simple and accessible language to express complex emotions and ideas. The use of vivid imagery such as the descriptions of the house being rebuilt, the pouring of coffee, and the act of cleaning, adds a sense of sensory experience and visual imagery to the poem. The use of first-person perspective and personal pronouns, such as "we," "my," and "you," creates a sense of immediacy and intimacy, drawing the reader into the emotions and experiences of the speaker.

The poem also exhibits a sense of nostalgia and reflection, as the speaker looks back on past moments with the other person and contemplates the significance of those memories. There is a juxtaposition of ordinary, everyday activities such as cleaning and pouring coffee with deep emotional experiences of love, longing, and loss, creating a sense of emotional complexity and depth in the poem.

Similarities to 20th Century Poets: The poem shares similarities with poets of the 20th century who explored themes of love, intimacy, and the complexities of human emotions. The use of personal experiences and emotions to convey deeper truths, the emphasis on vivid imagery and sensory details, and the introspective and reflective tone are reminiscent of poets like Robert Frost, E.E. Cummings, and Langston Hughes. The focus on intimate moments and emotions within the mundane and ordinary aspects of life also echoes the style of poets from the confessional poetry movement, such as Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton.

Overall, "Treadmills" is a poem that explores the emotions and experiences of love, longing, and loss in a simple yet profound manner. The use of vivid imagery, intimate tone, and reflections on ordinary moments elevate the poem, while the themes and writing style share similarities with 20th century poets who delved into the complexities of human emotions and relationships.

Thursday, 30 March 2023

Smart Buy

My spanners shine, like they were on the day they were bought
a set of five, dual heads joined at the center
I was sensible to get mine a tad angled, most forget that
those that do end up scraping their knuckles at every turn
but do you know why these are so shiny and clean?
they have been kept in a box, protected, covered safely
and I was smarter to buy two sets, one for use, one to gleam
It was a good thought then, I revel in that choice now



Orange marmalade

Orange marmalade 
Nothing else for you 
For nothing less will do 
Because uniqueness is you 
The flavour of the rind 
Like sparkles of your mind 
Hints amongst the sugar 
In every bite one finds 
When at the last morsel 
I turn around and leave 
You bring me my sanity 
Remind me how to live 

To my friends who wake me up

it is good for others, that we suffer in silence for
not for the want of their attention, but an end to this war
where neither wins, but bleeds to the bone
and then to only rot in the darkness like corpses cold

but this time, with you my friend my sanity is in tow
I do not look back to hanker on, nor am distraught
help me to remember that you and I can be all
we shall break the chains of my saddened soul

if my heart shall fall, I shall find it to shatter not
for it is stronger when your thoughts hold me taut
I shall fly higher than the phoenix that ashes bore
and shine like a million suns that the universe wrought

Wednesday, 29 March 2023

My Friend

April's gift
was a gentle nudge
A remit for ages 
of being lost

You dawned
I caught the light
Basked in you
And was found

Satin skies
The blues call out
You bring flight
Light my heart

You are
The clouds that crawl
Shade my walk
Keep me aloft

Monday, 27 March 2023

erosion

I'm sorry darling at my age my deep is out of your depth
and pity that your deep is a tad too shallow 
We could argue till the cows come home 
but on such grounds and matters 
the people of my age do not wallow
I could spit rhymes, metaphorical constructs
create many big things akin to what could be poetry 
it is only percieved dust for a generation new
who can't even deep-throat nor swallow

This rhyme that you are so in the rhyme of 
is a fragment of nothingness but a pit of mire
to express is the least of your skills forget imagine
yet all I read is the want to express a desire
let the rhyming be, 
let me just probably scribble sweet nothings
but these flows will only be a rain of fire
Until the meandering hills of your heart roams free like our's does 
your attempt to valiantly express will only be dire

Sunday, 26 March 2023

Nope, Not today

I looked deep into the void
that was now my refrigerator
it had nothing of interest now
the bread stood silent, 
the eggs were hushed
the half-empty tomato puree carton
stood silently in woe
I had no inclination or the hunger
to whip up a dish to eat
for cooks like company
first to serve, then to eat
so maybe today I shall stay so
without a morsel or two
and everything that I feel about cooking
shall be cast aside and let go

I like this tree

The noon scatters light
to the roof of my room 
painted in a creamy white 
casting a rainbow of possibilities
I sit by the window
look outside, at the fresh green mangoes
March is ending, soon to be April
and they wait like me to change
become everything they have hoped
since we saw each other first

They have looked at me too
all these days, the tree for longer has
It has seen me weep, fight, fright
and then has seen me too
smiling into the warm evening light
We have come to know each other
for neither misses a chance to stare
at each other, at least once a day.
I see the raw mangoes are hope it
maybe that is how he communicates

come May, the mangoes will be yellow
most will for sure, and I will not pick
i will watch them, watch the birds perch
as they eat the mangoes and sing
much like my heart, like the tree's too
bearing hope to feed a hungry life
i have complained too much then
i see it clearly now and how
i will bloom for i am another branch
growing in this beautiful tree of life


Notes:

This poem was written as someone looking out her window and watching the mango tree. While that is a literal scene, it also is a metaphor for a lot of things.

The mangoes are a metaphor of new hopes and dreams, the birds all the people who come to the tree who is also the friend of the lady looking out of the window. The tree is metaphorically me, and the lady is my best friend. 

This is a very weird example of how my perspective of another person's perspective of another is written. 

Thursday, 23 March 2023

Whatever the fuck that was

I met this woman 
and got to be friends
on random social media site shit 
lo and behold I watch a stand-up comedy
with a comedian that has not prepared
as i step up to complete his show
i am asked by the same lady to tow
when we reach her building elevator
i see the microphone has an SpO2 sensor
i test for mine, i get a 98
i am home as if to get laid
when she shows me her wedding pictures
she gets me all hard, and ready for things
before we get into the sheets and roll
i find more in want 
 surrounding me, bare
i walk around 
    rummaging for my clothes
i find them kept neatly folded 
    where i left it
i put on my clothes 
but before I walk out
i make some tea or coffee 
    something like that I guess
we sit and drink that, and i walk out


Wednesday, 22 March 2023

The Quagmire Of An Almighty

Things were out of reach, shelves and kitchen counter tops
Everything seemed taller, and my daily life was a shock
I knew I wanted to be a touch stronger than I then was
I decided to be bigger, I wanted to become a God

You see, when everything and every one hurts, we pray
Yet all our prayers and yell for divine intervention is in dismay
I knew there would be times in life of hurt, and it would be hard
I decided to be bigger, I wanted to become a God

When the time arrived to feel my heart break, it rained
Of rejection from me and my love, then me and the world
When everything was lost, when I broke down and I was distraught
I decided to be bigger, I wanted to become a God

The thirties flew by, everything went to dust, yet I persevered
Life was ugly, a struggle to breathe most times but I was smart
I had found my weakness, it was the fallacy of my loving heart
I breathed away my feelings, I had become a God

One could question what drives a man, I would tell you
It is the constant hurt and rebuilding, for only hope can spring life anew
I remembered I was beyond such mere perils of mortal men
I would see these sufferings and win, for I was this God

Now at this pedestal that I had been placed, by me and all
I would find ease in all that could make souls writhe and crawl
But I saw my life was lost in believing I was infallible
I had become everything unworthy, in being a false God 

Tuesday, 21 March 2023

And to tell you that

I will miss 
brewing coffee with oregano
watching the leaves
sumberge and emerge
as they impart themselves
into coffee
and when i drink from my cup
I will remember me
serving it to you 
in my favourite cup
the cup may not last much
for it has mostly outlived itself
but the memory of you 
holding it and drinking from it
shall forever remain
etched into my mind
always fresh,
like the coffee I would brew
for you

Friday, 17 March 2023

insanity

In a sea where the water only churns
and blind the eyes that take a dive 
My eyes hide in these deadly tides 
Weep, as I reek in this unending burn
Of love and longing that is unspoken
In hurt like a million ferns unfurling 
Dusting its powdery self , imprinting
Leaving me marked of love forsaken
Gently too, there is no rush for my hopes
Grazing like a happy lamb on new sprouts
A sight so heartwarming to all the souls
But the sprouts grow in hopelessness.

Tuesday, 14 March 2023

Hey love, be swift

I find my right arm quite redundant at this point
I miss the way it aches gently, every morning
After you wake up, having slept on it all night
The morning only brings me a painless emptiness 

You and I nurse wounds of the past that are gone
Yet we fan the flames that burn our soul in separation
If only you would let me find myself back to you
Rather than you blowing off the candles lighting my path

Would this night be any darker, if the moon drowned
And if I slept at the bottom of the pond where we swam once
Would you not feel my absence, like I feel yours so loud
Or would you just not think, and I am just a forgotten thought


Thursday, 9 March 2023

Hey Stranger

I exist not for you to be in a deluge of torment
But for me to be what you so deeply want
Yet to not be contained by you or your thoughts
I exist for me, to be all I can be when you call

The port doesn't travel, ships and ferries do
The beach never moves, waves fro and to
The road goes nowhere, your walk moves you
I exist like these, for to rest a while and renew

You could sit at the docks, watch the churn
Recline on the sands under the golden sun
You could stop to smell the roses at every turn
I am not a thing that you can claim to own

Come, rest a while, leave at first light or dusk
I shall hear all your stories of love and arid lust
You can carry in your memories a gentle dust
I still will be here smiling through my red rust

Wednesday, 8 March 2023

Washing away

You were admiring 
the abrupt out-of-turn rain,
 holding me
while you were 
    romanticizing it, 
telling me 
of how you remember 
our first kiss,
  those many years ago
I said I did
but I remember us planting 
    two mango saplings too
We had lovely mangoes 
    last season in May
I am worried now 
    for this abrupt March rain
    will cause it to shed the flowers 
    crush their dreams 
    of becoming mangoes
Have you spared 
a thought for those two trees
and the now fading dreams
    of those florets
    drenching in the rains
    I can feel their pain too
    while your love is strong
my heart is longing to protect
    the old dream we shared
    when we planted those saplings
    and wished to eat 
    those mangoes every year
   


Saturday, 4 March 2023

सोच रहा था

अलमारी में ठूंसे हुए कपड़े आज मैने जब निकाले
कुछ कपड़े तुम्हारे भी मिले, लिपटे पड़े थे मेरे कपड़ों से
जैसे तुम लिपट जातीथीं कभी, उन खामोश लम्हों में
और मैं तुम्हारी खुशबू को ही सांसें समझता था

तुम तुम्हारी अलमारी को साफ कर चुकीं थी पहले से ही
मैं हर कोने में तुमसे जुड़ी यादों को देख कर जी रहा था
आज तक उन ठूंसे हुए कपड़ों को देख मुस्कुराता था
पर अब मेरे पास वक्त नहीं रहा ऐसे मंद मुस्काने का

वक्त जो ढल गया है तुमको सोच कर, तुमको छू कर
मुझे उसका ग़म नहीं है, जीए जा रहा था जैसे तैसे 
अब जीवन को कुछ महीनों की मोहलत जो दी है
तुमसे दूर हूं इतना की मौत का खौफ भी नही रहा



Transliteration from chatgpt

When I pulled out the clothes stuffed in the wardrobe today,
I found some of your clothes too, wrapped in mine,
As if you used to embrace me in those silent moments,
And I used to understand your fragrance as my breaths.

You had already cleaned your wardrobe,
But I was living by seeing memories of you in every corner.
Until now, I smiled looking at those stuffed clothes,
But I don't have time for such weak smiles anymore.

The time that has passed, thinking of you, touching you,
I am not grieving over it anymore, living as it is.
Now that life has been given a few months' respite,
I am so far away from you that I don't even fear death.



Friday, 3 March 2023

Like a whiff of fragrant flowers

Do you ever think like I do every night, as I try to weave sleep into my eyes
I find the thread that could bind it missing, your arms
It would wrap around me like a comet's tail, and run me around the cosmos
As I gently drifted into sleep, in a smile and thoughts of waking soon

My vision has gone blurry, for the lack of rest and rest is illusive
For the heart races to watch you, asleep in a fold of memory I hold
Where I stand and whisper gently, in a worry of waking you up
And morning wrings me back in a richochet to my cold floor 

Do you smile in your sleep of late? You always have and I watched it
Often to wish it to be the last thing I see, before I die
I can often hear your murmurs, when I lie half awake, anxious
As your longing haunts me, before my pillow soaks my tears

I wouldn't want you to worry, I wash my pillow covers regularly
In anticipation of an off chance, should you come over a while
I wouldn't want you to rest on this worthless tear soaked one
The new fabric softener I bought, is beautifully fragrant too

Ah my love, paint me in your form

The edges of my life's book are curled
By your forearms when you leaned over
To scribble on my pages and colour a few
To then leave them open and gathering dust

I found this often and I gathered the dust
With them built a bridge of clay towards love
It was always in a rain of irony that it broke
And drowned me in your absence's eraser dust

I would sometimes try shading on a few pages
With a pencil of thoughts and rampant longing
The tips would break and smudge the lines
Remind me of how the art in my heart has died

When you visit interim, even for a generic gaze
My book has flung itself open, rattling pages
It has presented each page as a blank canvas 
For your gentle presence to draw as we age

Thursday, 2 March 2023

The songs of above forty folks

It is absurd to imagine caramine red on a wicked noon
Indian Summers tend to bite into the flesh and curb imagination
The mercury hates to rise, the tin roof houses are like ovens
But then, mangoes, lots of mangoes, so many of them

Didn't that bring a smile to your heart my child that has grown?
You remembered the green sour ones you threw rocks at the tree for
Didn't you? Maybe you got a few, out of those twenty or so tries
But you can recollect their taste with a dash of salt and red chillies

It's March, the month of dreamy folks, oh! I so know sun signs
We all have at some point read and pondered over Linda Goodmans
You could step out of college and opt for a smoke or savouries
This month is dreaded due to the final semester exams

March will turn to April soon, the green mangoes will ripen too
You will order a few dozens, Kesar is best, Alphonso is hype
You will sit at home, enjoy slicing and eating these
But, thirty years ago, is so long gone my dear forty

Those memories of hearts joined and a lot of times broken
When schools and colleges would be closed for a new session
Some of you may have travelled in the sweltering heat
Then we would come back in June, for another year, rinse and repeat

Tuesday, 28 February 2023

Tender Exact Change

I am happy to share the sky over our heads love
For all of you is gone, voice and sight 
I bask in the glow of this noon sun, knowing
The sun shines on you too, hopefully gently
When you look up to see the clouds, fluffy
Like you my love, as they move beautifully
They paint the dull blue skies with whites
Offer shade, make the sunset seem better
The sun sooner or later though exacts a price 
I have paid mine, to be in this limbo half alive
Only to be like sunflowers, I bloom to dry and die
Unlike the sunflowers, I hope to not be buried
To sprout, and run this course all over again
I could've run it through, twice and over, smiling
For you were the light that shone through my soul

Monday, 20 February 2023

Dream night

I always make popcorn at night before I sleep alone
Crucial, I hate being hungry in the middle of the night
You could ask why popcorn, and I would laugh at your ignorance
I wake up mid dream often terrified, eat a bit and go back to sleep
Dreams are like movies, they make me want to see more
Imagine those blood curdling horror stories that run often
There is a ton of comedy too, but those don't warrant breaks
The tragedy and horror genres need some salted butter popcorn

Well!

I hide behind nothing 
for there is nothing without your presence 
All I see is you 
yet all I know isn't

I ask if this is life 
or if this will be what remains of me 
Is there a me 
if I fail to exist with you

When you are not around 
it doesn't matter if it hurts 
or if it feels good 
I question if I can even feel anymore.

I ask if I should 
isn't a void still something 
if so then your absence is not a void 
because it is like the divine curse of nothingness.

I could question a lot 
more of my very existence 
yet if it wasn't 
would I still think?

maybe your thoughts would manifest me 
because your thoughts manifest me into being 
or maybe they did is why I exist.
I do? Do I? remind me, make this existence seem possible.

Sunday, 19 February 2023

Sides squared

My dark room has a vivid energy to it
Though subtle but rather unmistakable
I can sit in the center of this place and cry
It hides my life and dampens my sighs
The walls are a mosiac of a mural painted
Often to have been shattered and rearranged
The pieces  are too tiny to hold now
For they are shards that cause bleeding aches
The floor is a lovely bright black granite'esque 
That drinks my tears and never has quaked
I built this dark room to be alive once
I realize that was my first terrible mistake
But I fret not for those who have often sent
Wished me to spend time in here and reflect
For I see life bears no meaning anymore now
So I'll sit till it becomes my tomb somehow

Mornings are lovely sometimes

It's so easy for me to be distracted in conversations
Between a stranger like my tea vendor and me
He a man of various blends of tea leaves 
I , a flavour thirsty, tea loving, logical man of science
We both do meet halfway though, you'd wonder how
But a mind as curious as mine wants to learn
Raghu makes excellent tea and is a good soul
And I try to understand the nuances of spice and colour
He pours me a tall glass every few days when I visit
I most often prefer to brew my own tea at home you see
I have those who love the tea I make, and often visit for such
But my vendor surpasses my most excellent batch far too often

A journey ends

Maybe this time it is complete
 this circle 
 of my own 
 an unexplainable existence
 awarded to me by force
 in forced breaths
 feeding another moment

The pungent scent of an end
 beckons loud
 of my lone
 an unsavoury acceptance
 served to me in tones
 by passing moments
 bleeding my soul

This me has nothing to be than
 an unbearable load
 to have and to hold
 a meaningless shell
 existing in a paradox
 on nothing but hope
 of fading into the unknown

Monday, 13 February 2023

Sending over a meal to my other self

Lifeless windows and wall flowers decorate
Where moss grew, and on the ledge sat a few
Robins, and magpies, rudely waking up one
Sorely sleeping in the anguish of gone bys

I knocked on his door, carrying a full thermos
Coffee? I asked and there was no answer
I could be worried if this was someone else
This is someone I knew to have been strong

As I rummage through my shoulder bag for a key
I hear the latch click and the door opens wide
He stands there frail, his eyes dead like 
The deep oceans in the stormiest tides

No, and don't bother me was his prompt
Yet I walk in, coax him, to share a cup with me
I tell him it's just February and August is far
He looks through me as if his look could scar

I brought you balushahis, from the station
Won't you indulge, maybe to remember of then
He nods in acknowledgment, gulps one down
Only for his face to express discontent

Do you have the mutton roll too? He asks surly  
As I reach into my bag of goodies and fetch
He smiles back at me, I had forgotten he could
He bites through the roll as I hand him a few

Mom was right, this is what I should've done
Eating balushahis, rolls,  maybe a fruity bun
Then sit at my desk, heal the sick and tired
Rather than fall in love and try to be alive

But brother, I ask him in trepidation 
Isn't it being alive, eating these savories too?
He nods; stating it's true, but stops at the third
Says if it was really so then why would I rue