Mirror World

Your face is like a mirror
polished on the surface
with a tinted pale reflection.
A reflection capable of
displaying an un-adjustable truth,
magnifying one’s shattered emotions
successfully hidden from the world.
When I am made to face you
I enter my own maze of sheer glance
the dark, the light, the inverted world
the illusion, the reality
bouncing in front of my eyes.
That enchanting pattern
is ethical,
is fictional,
is rigid,
But is classic.


Sitting on the stairs
in front of your house,
looking at the car headlights
from afar with my neck
imitating the path and
moving along as those pass through.
Nothing seems boring
while I have you in my mind.
Everything seems easy
while I have you in my mind,
even the wait!
I, somehow, can find
anything amusing now
and start playing with them
to kill time
because I know
you (still) are here,
with me.

Even after waiting for an hour
I don’t feel like complaining
rather something is rumbling
loud in my gut.
Era of butterflies have gone past.
It’s the tiny stars jumping
and giggling with me.
Illuminating my path
wherever I go.
I am not fearful anymore,
of my own inhibitions
because I know
you are here
with me.

I slide my hand down
the railing while I wait
like a plane landing
and gradually reaching its destination.
I didn’t mind
not having keys to the house.
You are going to come
and open the lock,
for US.
Like you opened
the portal of
another world for us.

Little tension and
amusement building up,
at the thought of seeing you.
And I imagine;
You’d come
carrying your backpack
and dimpled smile,
and will stand a bit
far from the stairs
for a minute or so.
Just to have a long good look at me.

I admire
the way you admire me.
from afar.
The thought makes me smile
for no reason at all.
You know what love is?
When even the waiting is this much fun
because I know
you are here
you will be here
with me.
For me.
For us.

To the poet in me…

To the poet in me

Let the words find you,
Let the verses amuse you.
Let the metaphors play hide and seek
and when you’re about to give up,
they come running to you like a long lost lover.

Don’t try too hard, Poet.
let the world make love with you
in a desperate attempt to be in your art.
That when you’re gazing at an object
let it stare back so it can show off its beauty.
The desk,
the drawers,
the curtains,
the night lamp
Even in a constricted room
they are seeking your attention,
like an unprepared sculpture
seducing it’s master to be carved in prose.

Let them discover you.

My Summer Poem

Warm and sweet like Summer Rain,
Your touch brushes against the tips of an intrinsic soul.
Like the lake that glowed at the ‘Happening.’
Happening of Sun breaking through the thick clouds.
Running along the field full of beautiful daisies.

Occurrences of my dormant, leftover emotions sprouting.
With the rest of the contents of uneasiness in the
bucket sliding down.

Innocence sinking it’s teeth into your charm;
The way one scoops out the largest chunk of a mango
and keeps it on the tongue
relishing the taste of a long lasting snack.

You’re the summer, the meadow, the blossom I forgot to wait for
yet you arrive in time.
You’re like my Summer Poem.