Time lapse

The sky keeps changing, While you sit, caught in a time lapse, Breathing.

Winter is coming

It's time to pack my bags and head south. Echoes are calling me back home.Sweet home.Read me with a song: The sad cafe by Eagles

‘Read me with a song’

Whenever I try to write, I do so with a song playing on my playlist. Music has always lent more meaning to whatever I am writing. From now on I'd like all of you to join my 'Read me with a song' experience. With each post I'd also like to share you the song that …

Alberta, the wild rose country

My three months of vacation in Alberta is coming to an end. There were endless number of things I saw, but a few have left indelible prints and that is what I have tried to put together in this illustration. These are a compilation of moments that may have changed me as a person. These …

Aurora granted

The porcelain beauty, the celestial muse for a thousand lovers of verse- The Silvery Moon, was always the most reverred sight for me, until today, when the sky finally granted me a show of colours. I ran out on the street at 3 in the morning following a flimsy trail of green until the bright …

1607- the day I missed the show

The park looks empty,The children have gone.To watch the rodeoDowntown At Saddledome.He was to playAt Calgary tomorrow,Which meant,Waking up on the morrow.But like a Cinderella sans fairy,I chose to stay.Now I sit fumblingWith jarring speakersNoise getting away.Down the hallway,He singsOf the girl from the North country.Parked up in Worsley,that could well be me.Wooed by his poetry,Charmed …

Of women poets

The poet is so said and done. Unlike the patron, In love with her verse. The poet is a sad mess. A deer in trauma, Hiding behind an Oxford comma, and, her oversized pyjama. To set all priorities  In order, Gentrify beyond border, Of what's right and what not. Terrified of a wrong word, Which …

Of mediocre poets

Saplings of eggplants, Sitting out in the sun On my favourite window sill With So much poise Sparkling With droplets of water That I just sprayed on them. What beauty!" Well, so was said By a poet With mediocre poetry. Who finds beauty in small things, Because she is too afraid of the great.

Inside Mary’s room

Looking at Canada All through the window of a speeding car. Stopping at gas stations, The only place I have looked in. Waiting for a pack of pall mall, I miss civilisation. Even the lightning Always looks at bay. I hold my breath and count, The thunder reaches late. 10 seconds, 2 miles away The …

Frailty thy name is Dandelion

In a saddleback town A stalk of Dandelion Pitched against the blue sky. Her stamens hold tight, While Mammoth clouds hang loose Towards the east. The wind rustles, The storm is coming, Frail dandelion. Don't hold! Let the wind rip you, Let you scatter in pieces, Your florets, let them break, And let them broken …