A poem I almost did not write I was running late this Monday morning Sun had already knocked on the window panes Rays were rushing in...

Just by living through the day bearing witness to the light's play The changing colours of the clime now summer, now it is spring-time...

Having taken flak for penning always a poem with grey or outright noir undertones I geared up to to scribe a cheery one A butterfly...

Tethered to the unyielding cogs of time by the threads tensile yet unseen The privilege of dividing into past, future and present that...

Setting out to seek yet falling for conformities Scaling to the summit only to slip off a cliff steep At the heights of seeking if you...

Weekends, weekdays the numbers or names the days bear or the serialised convention the months endure year after year All the luxuries of...

That first line need appear running, dawdling or sprawled carefree across the page sunbathing as if on a deserted beach Rest will follow...

Inexpressibility of reality/life No cloud would yield No horizon would kneel No sky'd bow down for the sake of poetry Oceans couldn't...

Hold you close to me not even your shadow come in the way of harm any Keep you embraced, feeling your breath on my neck Not out of sight...

Sun might have come up lingered, loitered or simply winked and left Earth sure would have not missed a turn although a tad restless she...

After the many miles of wandering barefeet In search of questions to fit the cloak of answers ready Legs giving up on me just as the...

I'd have taken them for the most indifferent Hovering over and taking in everything or just about Sentries of the firmament patrolling...

What could I possibly do with a secret of any regard low or high? A secret that might have come to me riding a gale deliberate or a...

The sky hung low and a stubborn grey As if to reflect the mood of the day If I wished I could touch it Just with a little jump or a...

A twig from here a bob from there every inch of their stead reeking of greed Smarter than most fearless to the bone Birds of the same...

I would have gladly thrown away the mask of silence and the cloak of solemnity I wear to let myself wade through the thicket of...

As much the rich as will the poor As much the skeptic as the devout will Regardless of the youth or the age creeping up Regardless of the...

If words could see what they are put through for the sake of meaning what the heart can't beat or the brain can't mind Stretched to the...

Many a tortoise many a hare Trying to catch up trying to overtake Days going past the horizons of grind Coming back with a new date and...

In the middle of a dream toward the end of a nightmare Waiting with abated breath to take away yours Waiting to pounce on your slumber...