Wednesday, August 2, 2017


There lives a spy in my soul
watching desires unwind.
As and when emotions roll,
she reports back to my mind.
Then they dissect and assess,
and hose them down with reason.
My cauldron boils in excess
for it sees it as treason.
My wits vie for some respite.
But this heart flickers despite.

Thursday, July 20, 2017


Seems like was just yesterday
that she breezed into our lives.
Warm in her casual way,
and we buzzed around her hive.
We nestled into her wings,
mesmerised by this flora.
Adorned with angelic rings,
and radiating aura.
We soar on her love so spread.
Woven with emotional thread.

Friday, May 12, 2017

I Am Saree

How I love this woman who
drapes me around her body.
Her silken touch, luring coos,
her spirit I embody.
So I spin a yarn of threads,
and flutter my wings to flaunt.
I woo her with colours spread,
unfurl the embroidered font.
I scent her flowered tresses-
as my folds she caresses.

Sunday, May 7, 2017

Bugs Bunny

I flipped for her toothy smile
that she flashed years ago.
The dancing eyes so agile,
and eyebrows arched like a bow.
Today when she looks at me,
the head held ever so high.
Sea of love I still can see,
and once again I feel shy.
Stern looks but heart like honey.
Forever my bugs bunny.

Sunday, April 30, 2017

Sydney Harbour

How casually floats the elegant yacht,
over the blue waves that lazily roll.
How curious the birds flamboyantly stalk,
come sailing from high skies to sit and droll.
There stands the long bridge so handsomely arced,
displaying its strength in every fibre.
And the shell-shaped house is like nature’s art-
sprouts magically over the harbour.
The wind skates over the vast promenade-
the whiff so mingled with music and musk.
Jugs of wine, beer and iced lemonade,
gurgle at the fall of the golden dusk.
As many people, and as many sails-
swing and swagger with unquenchable tales.

Saturday, April 15, 2017


Thirsty is the shrivelled soul,
a drop of love seems ocean.
When the lonely tears roll,
your presence - magic potion.
Anger flames the age old scars,
smile provides the healing touch.
Why clamorous be those hours?
for silence can speak so much.
Do not praise nor belittle.
All one needs is just little.

Saturday, March 11, 2017

The Boats

She pops up from hazy past
to sail deep inside my soul.
She unfurls my rustic mast -
waves of emotions unroll.
Long, mysterious ocean,
and we are beyond our prime.
We seek no destination,
and let voyage blur the time.
We waltz and wander afloat.
And I wish we see no port.