my children, that's all I’ll ever want

17th January '2017

My children,

Just give me your laughter.

That’s all I’ll ever want.

Not even a year old,

I see you crawling away from me so fast,

Then taking slow steps back towards me.

You don’t come to me for nourishment

You look for plates and spoons

You don’t sleep, both together tucked on to me

You sleep independently, in your own cots

Already you’re growing up, too fast

Don’t mistake me

I’m not vain

I do not want you to want me

I don’t want anything at all

If something,

Just give me your laughter.

That’s all I’ll ever want.

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Coming Back

November '2014

I came back after a long time
  to live
    to laugh
      to cry.
To hear myself breathe.
To feel the living in me.

I came back to myself.
It's not easy.
It's a journey
through rivers,
    mountains,
      judgemental people
        and situations.
I have to cut through all and emerge

I hold my cloak close.
The crystals shine
  and show me the way..

one of those day

6th June '10

She was in the dark, amidst clouds, wet with tears in a chaotic space.

The day changed colour : orange, yellow, grey, white, blue, indigo, black.

She was trying to figure out how to forgive someone who'd apologized for a thought. a thought?

The day was hungry, without any laughter, companionship, ale or bread.

She was sitting and wondering where was she now. Wasn't it all figured?

The day rolled out impossible, dubious with a lot of warnings.

She breathed fire onto all those who trespassed, even remotely.

The day shall come to an end, but not soon enough. There are tasks at hand.

What’s life without poetry?

12th April '10

The mundane you do through life, you love, you laugh, you cry, you worry and you think yeah you are living. And you’re probably right!

The truth is this writing has no purpose. 

Maybe it’ll gain perspective as it evolves, but I wouldn’t pin up the hopes too high.

Some hours are empty, but so full of thought

Some days are busy, but so void of thought

It’s thought that you can maybe grasp

It’s the day which you can almost not catch

It’s the hours which rain

All the way down to the base of a stationary Sand Clock