Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’

Those were days of struggle ; each leaf added to the tree. I waited each night, outside the trembling hut, waiting to see a lonely traveller in need of food or accommodation. “A man can sleep outside”, I remembered my mother’s voice when I initially started sleeping out, shaking and screaming at night in fear. That me doesn’t exist anymore. Of course, that mother too. Living alone, I had to fend for myself alone, but living-in all my life, I didn’t know the kind of work other men did. All I knew was to take care of the house and surroundings, to weave baskets out of wires, and to knit baby clothes. “What woman would like you?” my old mother would ask during her last days. I’d sit there like a good daughter-in-law, listening to the taunts at her husband’s home. Sadly, they expected me to bring a wife home. How do I tell them, that I’d rather be married off?

Newborn leaves,
Baby winds,
Luscious mud beds,
Vinyl whispers,
Two dancing feet,
Cooing bird heads,
Nuzzling cold noses,
Trippy skies,



Posted: September 13, 2020 in Uncategorized
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“When it rains it is broad daylight in my mind, Krsna, even in the dead of night. “

In another day he was your man, standing on a brick,
A lotus that bloomed out of the mud—
But so miry is love that it made a God out of your man and a seeker of alms out of the woman.
Irony is when he is lost upon references and she revered in each thought.

“Long have I admired her, dear man, O but how, Krsna, have I become her without knowing it.”

I have waited on bricks in vain, I have written love in a thousand hymns, all upon a name,
I have fallen without bleeding, I have wept without tears,
I have bathed his shadow with the best words lest he fears,
I have drawn colors out of winter,
I have stolen swaras out of the winds,
I have made ragas out of my womb,
I have tuned each drop of my blood to play his lyre.

“But listen, Krsna, not he, only she could tell me about the future—”

Not the God, but the barefooted lover.
Not the ranks but the cracked, blood-dried heels know the way out of this vyuha,

“But how would you know, Krsna, you only know how to destroy in order to make anew,
She created the universe out of your broken bits,
Even a toenail would become a shell, each shell an ocean.”


Shall I wish or perish, Keats,
In your remembrances?
I saw closed doors with black ribbons of your choice
And heard laces humming late hymns.
The cold winter races up to the moon forever.
Yet in all times do I find you, warm as wine and fever;
Only in death does ice on ice grow like a tree.

Draw on me; divine me,
I wait at the threshold, eager to be called in.
Yet. Yet, you speak only in riddles.
Malachite and mirrors do adorn your windows,
Why don’t you let me through too?

I saw those fences in mourning;
Alabaster-clad winds and alcoholic fire –
Your friends in desire.
Drown me in a cup of hot chocolate,
Smother me with poetry.
Is that too much to ask for?


Find me in an ocean falling for pearls;

Drowning for memories, falling for pearls ..

Build me an ocean yonder that sea..

Build me all that I’ve left unseen..

Find me the memories, garish and gay;

Deranged in misery, arranged in may.


Every twig, every leaf 
Shall rise from the Dead;
Even Destiny shall only behold.
Death shall have no word over Life-
Heaven shall only be a tree,
A twig, a leaf.
Words shall resurrect Words
Of yore ‘n nigh.
Night shall reunite with the Night
And Life shall have the final Word.

Elven folks might know
That nights don’t always
End like this.

Forever and Ever
Winding like a stairwell
Straight from infinity
And yon.



You and I, we’re infinite;

Hence it is fated that we’d never meet.

Parallel in universes 

Parted by mindsets,

United by tristesse infinie


T/N : Triste Infiniment : Infinitely Sad ; Tristesse infinie: Infinite sadness / melancholy

For the first…

Posted: October 15, 2013 in Death, Life, Quote
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For the first time in many days, fear has engulfed my existence.
Sheer melancholy throbs in the lonely corners of this haunted bone-house.

– Me ( Nandini Pradeep J )


I was born from the ashes of you

Time and again, I burst into flames

Just like how you did once.

I am your memory enclosed in history.

That history which stands alone.

Lovesick, and puny desires of teenage days stranded

In some faraway shore.

You and me, at this far end of the world,

We stand alone;