Thursday, August 31, 2017

Dialect.

DIALECT.

left to time, it withered,
like a dead corpse hung from wall,
after the sentence.
no poems to defend, no stories to tell,
no anecdotes to share.
waiting, for someone to give her a name,
for someone to claim,
someone who would speak, her.
She, is always there.

Deepti.

Monday, August 28, 2017

SCHOOL.


and the rats nibble and nibble,
and scribble and scribble.
the endless fates,
of hungry futures and parched pasts.
gums bleeding ink.

poisoning the paper.
mediocrity stacked high at the altar,
where screams rumble into silences,
and gongs are heard,
for things undone.

Mayfly.

Sun-kissed nights,  run wild and sure mornings, shrouded in grey walk slow,  noons burn high, and so do the hearts. like dawns I linger, lik...