The Mosquito

As days pass by flushing like a gutter,

I get used to these empty mail boxes, empty purses,
And your lies filling my thighs, spilling over in perfect roundness.

And like nothing more than a perturbed buzz of a mosquito,
You linger a permanent echo in the air; empty of your scent.
Sucking blood from my limbs, I saw your tubular stomach fill red,
What did I even think? That I would suffice your eternal thirst? I wonder!

That you turned to yet another body
That lay unblanketed for you, all along!
Nearby me, nearby me.
Why did I even panic in worry!
Was it not a mistake of mine,

To think that I would serve adequate for your pangs of hunger.
When, your perennial buzz of discontent was gone unnoticed by me.
Was it not a mistake of mine,

To watch you drink like a vampire to life,
While I suffered the sting of your poisoned fangs.
The zit you left for me, to heal;
In the place of a mistaken kiss.

As days pass by flushing like a gutter, stagnant in its flow,
I get used to the aftermath of this huge mistake in the name of love.

http://www.activemuse.org/2020_Open_Poems/Twinkle_George.html

Finding Her

I rummage for her, 
among the scrambled letters,.
Life amidst the dry leaves, 
only a crackling whisper.
Lost in the abyss of words, 
she stood ruined, among the ruins. 
Stripped of hope and desire, 
veiled in silence, consuming silence. 
A tiara for her ricocheting thoughts. 
I rummage for her, 
The child in me. 

http://verbalart.in/sircl/ecopies/1561032146.pdf

Dadz

There is, there is a man in Dubai,

whom I trust with doubts none.

There is, this man, now beyond boundaries,

to whom, I spat words, concealed never.

This man, with such differences, such counterfeits;

Yet, in him I see, the father of my home caring,

Could I ever deny the warmth of a family,

when he calls me, “momo”!

At times, I remember looking to him,

like a lost ship in its voyage half.

I look to you, Dadzo for assurance, the Northern Star of my sky,

Grateful am I, to be called your daughter,

And may we stay forever, as

a family celebrating the imperfect perfectionism.

http://indianperiodical.com/2019/06/dadz/

GULMOHARS OF THE INDIAN SUMMER

https://madrascourier.com/art-and-poetry/gulmohars-of-the-indian-summer/

THE EVERGREEN TAMARIND TREE

There in the cisterns of my memory,

coursed a blessed childhood,
where summer forgot its purpose and
winter stayed a little longer,
around a tamarind tree so exotic.
When along the roads, few tamarinds stood fence
with foliage balding and greying in the dusty sun,
there was SHE, this exotic tamarind tree, named Kodampuli
from my early memories,
with her mushroom bulge of greenery,
like a dome of pistachio ice-cream scoop in perfect round,
on top of that thick, single brown trunk
that could never fit my hug ever.
From her shoulders, my traditional swing of
the yearly ritualistic Onam hung,
flying me across her lush green edges, to get a peek
of the blue skies, residing in small patches, amongst the green fields of trees.
And on every evening before the exams,
my feet unfailingly carried me to her green laps of musing,
for those evergreen blessings fertilising my brain’s soil.
My heart’s grief ebbing, under her green apron snuggle,
I remember well,
her caresses and the songs with the wind she sang,
the friends strange and amiable she introduced for my loneliness,
I remember well today,
today as I stand before her –
her mutilated and butchered body in the backyard of my ancestral home;
still standing erect, as the faithful post for our then favourite game of hide and seek.
She stands there, with her scraped scalp held high, still, still evergreen.

http://www.sparkthemagazine.com/the-evergreen-tamarind-tree/

The Magic

Do you remember, the day we journeyed together?

Will an account of details, de-clutter your rotten memory now, I wonder!

But let me tell you, that day when your hands found mine,

an intertwined crochet stitch of perfection I interpreted.

Flooding the veins with strength and hope, magic present in every touch.

And in the depth of your eyes, I thought, I found my nepenthe,

The courage to hold on without fading and remaining lost.



In your arms, within your embrace, I found my safest haven.

Where I was whole and complete, where I was, “Me”.

When I laid my head on the curve of your shoulder,

My restless spirit took a recess in quietness, I must admit!

No more war, my mind at ease conjured itself to tranquillity.

The hurricane inside surrendering to your presence,

Unable to perceive the mystery.

Ah! When I kissed you, I knew time could be locked for eternity,



Moments those feel the same when gray spray your hair.

Those feeble caresses rekindled the child in me

Gifting my eyes unicorns and satyrs,

And under your breath, I was melting down.

Each breath, an unwritten lullaby, like the beat of your heart.

The sparks involved dissolved every doubt, uncertainty that remained.

And in your warmth, I was losing my numbness forever.

Alas! How recklessly did I fell over and over again

like the steady rains with no halt in between, through the chaos.

Reassuring that you were my magic all along;

And dear, how well you taught me that magic was the greatest illusion of all times, with few actors in the hiding!!!

https://www.decentenews.com/P/The-Magic

Artemis

Time adorned thorns around her naked flesh;


The Armor bestowed by Venus, on return of the hunt.


The essence of trust misused, oozed the blood out, of her streams gushing;


the venom he kissed into her, treachery of the snake, hissing at Eve.


Soot of that wild fire, that once ruled the forests, settled over her eyes,


Vision through the ire, much clear,


Words brave, her new knight



Experience crowned her Queen


Once recessed hurricane whirled wild,


Making way, an alert signed


The stabs she won, she pierced tattoos for tomorrow.


Ready is she, the Artemis in her, for the ride, always.

http://www.the-criterion.com/V10/n2/Twinkle.pdf