Expectations, agitations

You want it and you think you want it. You say to yourself you are making strides towards it and you plan and scribble little plans and more plans, goals and more goals, why power and visualizing the outcome. What else? Porridge in a bowl, waiting and seeds. 26 or 27/11/2018 — I’ve started consuming

Poems inspired by sea creatures

This poem about scales is a mash-up of ideas about old flames and red herrings. Strangely, yesterday I also wrote about sea creatures. In ‘New ink cartridges‘ I paired cephalopods with writing in black ink. — The image of fish scales is courtesy of Wikicommons Media and photographed by Rajesh danji. View the original image here. You can

Diversions for Gentlemen of our Modern Age

Buzz. Ping. Hit. Aaah! ‘Phone Coffee Cigarettes Skin High Dependency Units — Another quick read poem/ non-poem, which uses a list format. See, gentlemen, poetry isn’t such an effort to read. And there’s so much more left of your day to do other things such as check your ‘phone, drink coffee, smoke and check some skin. — (The

Reviewing the Pursuit

With the spit and fizz of fireworks, I clinked flutes of resolutions on a New Year’s Night. Now March, the ashes have blown away. — A week ago, I wrote about how my effervescent poetry-writing productivity has ebbed. Wail and gnash as I might, not much seems to be helping. In fact, strange circumstances have

It’s complicated

Actually it’s very simple. Either it’s in motion or it is not. This bears the signs of not. That bears the signs of motion. Words to-ing and fro-ing And actions Everything bears the mask of nonsense. 13/1/14 — A liberating revelation in my younger youth was the concept of He’s Just Not That Into You

Near Liverpool Street under scaffolding

What do you believe? I believe to see truth lived quietly and consistently is powerful. My father died like that. In trees we find tall truths deeper rooted than human folly. I believe in stakes that make us choose a path right, or left or denial. Denial comes back to haunt us in choice, again.

A poem about scales

The flame is a scale held to the light. It flickers in petition. It bids us to reignite some salacity already gutted from our life. red herring — Yes, that last line is akin to a title. I remembered that Debussy does likewise in his Préludes. At the moment I am swimming with the red herrings.