The ways you said, ‘I love you.’

I think of the ways you said, ‘I love you.’ As a whisper over a cup of tea. Or when I was crying And you held me gently. Was there any thing I missed ? I just knew a boy, I didn’t know his tricks. In August rain, drenched to the bone Or in a…

In March

The year after you left I prepared a banquet in your memory At our old house, of my childhood days Where we lived and where you died. But the feast turned cold The white grains of rice, the yellow dal And the aroma of curry leaves lingered faintly in air The fish you loved lay…

Twenty-three

for my friends, who are forever young

Lover

Lover, Daisies in my hair, a yellow dress Bare feet and red lips You were there Hands pressed Against my fingertips. In Spring we loved We loved like how lovers did. Lover, A blue umbrella, Crystal clear skies Popsicle sticks and ice We stood in sun Warm haze and white lies Walking in our rose…

Scribbles – II

what I would say if you could hear me today

Metamorphosis – Seasons Part I

Winter Winter knocked at our door, You asked me to set the hearth aflame To bring out the old, woollen sweaters That I had knitted, years before; With care, three balls of red yarn, A fluttering heart and perhaps With a little more love than now. As you spoke, white vapours Escaped your thin, frail…

Quiet Afternoons with Timothée Haze [I]

The First Chapter – On Longing Dated – 29th December. A Wednesday.  I will make a home in the wind.  But only if it takes me back to you.     “J’espère te revoir.” (French : I will see you again.) ​’ Timothée,  you  remember people when you  forget them. But sometimes, a person lingers…

if you were my love

​So I have not posted in quite a while. I have no reason but the mundane excuse of how busy I was.  So this poem is just a thought, a simple reflection on love and longing.  if you were my love i would say love me under summer sun beneath dark grey clouds on quiet…

His Love; A poem. For him. Not us.

The Kiss by Gustave Klimt (1908) So I write poems sometimes when I am sad, happy, thoughtful or inspired.  I wrote this poem for someone whom I once knew. Or perhaps loved. But as we know, all stories of love do not have to be love stories, right?  His love. His love is like the streaks…

The Ghost in the Closet; Thoughts on life, growing up and regrets.

   “Skeleton in the closet is a colloquial phrase and idiom used to describe an undisclosed fact about someone which, if revealed, would have a negative impact on perceptions of the person.”   Dead people receive more flowers than the living ones because regret is stronger than gratitude. Anne Frank    Raindrops fall softly on the tin roof of my…