Put Out The Light…..



Darkness is a white misty world

where light is not absent

yet you can’t sight him-

his frozen words no more breathe-

darkness is angst and despair-

darkness is disheveled hair,

the loosening of the tight bun

to be hung to the waist-

darkness is dried up milk in breast-

darkness is insomnia,

a million spark

to be surged on paper-

darkness is a flair,

a fire,

a burnt soul-

darkness is a dead love,

a forever sleep

in a kitchen gas oven-

to be resurrected in luminous words-

(Whatever I have written here had happened to Sylvia Plath, one of my favorite poets)

Posted for my prompt ~ Darkness Is….. @ Poets United Midweek Motif


Why This Hurry

(it seems our normally very brief winter will be briefer this year)



Gliding through the mist

Winter alighted

On my palm-

It held in its beak

A marigold promise

Of staying long-

Its plumage not as bright-

Eyes listless

feet, in fear-

In a feeble chrysanthemum note

It crooned into my ears

About the lost bees-

Then I don’t know why

It threw all its song into the fire

And left me to a pitiless sun so soon-


Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Climate Change @ Poets United

The Poet Has Gone

It’s comfortably cold here-

Winter birds have all come-

The pond is full

With water, tree-shadows and fish-

The blue sky seems dreamy,

So are the night stars-

Things of beauty,

Scattered everywhere

Like a Mary Oliver page-

Yet there’s an uncanny calm-

Where’s the ecstasy gone

With the “luminous fruits”,

“emerald eddies”, “lean owls”

“egrets”, “daisies” and all……

When I close my eyes

I see ‘red’

What’s burning, methinks-

A fire in a forest in a faraway land

Or a heart?

An ear of mine catches a note-

Is it a dirge in the woods?

May be-

A poet is gone-

Words in inverted commas are from Mary Oliver’s Poems


Posted for Poetry Pantry #436 @ Poets United

This poem is a fig tree, a bowl of sweet and enlightenment


Google Image


This poem is a large fig tree,

a witness to the struggles

of a seeker, smoldering within-

whose body, like the last autumn leaf

brown, emaciated, was about to drop off-

the tree could do nothing save being a shelter,

a prayer for this man ablaze in renunciation-

This poem is a Bodhi tree



This poem is an earthen bowl of payasam*

in the hands of a village maid

who sang a song of the ‘middle-path’

and offered the seeker the delicacy

which the ascetic accepted-

sun and moon rose and set

no manna ever came his way again-

this poem is Sujata’s bowl of sweet-



This poem is a story of enlightenment

of a prince in his thirties

who wished to conquer desire, disease and death-

he had his ‘rafter broken’,

his ‘ridge pole destroyed’-

his ‘mind came to the end of craving’-

he became Peace himself and a Buddha-

this poem is Man’s enlightenment



this poem is a sacred tree that saw a seeker transcend

this poem is a bowl of heavenly sweet that led a seeker

this poem is enlightenment a seeker leaves home for



*milk-rice pudding

The poem is written in Boomerang Metaphor (invented by Hannah Gosselin)


Posted for Poetry Pantry #435 @ Poets United