Posting a new poem today...21st July 2014.

Thinking Skin

I have thinking skin, made of indus mud, opium and autumn rain

It's used to kneading seconds to minutes, minutes to hours

Like sand inside the walls of an hourglass

But today for some reason 

It's thinking of alpine roads, cool mountains 

and Kestrels fluttering rapidly like hearts

My skin has thoughts in every pore

it thinks of taking chances with stray pockets of breath

and runnels of a soft, whispered language 

It disintegrates like a picture puzzle when you look at me 

Bunting goosebumps on the winds

Like little pontoons keeping love afloat; skin to skin, hand to hand

I have thinking skin and it wonders why we

cannot burst forth with mirth, like humble Euphorbia seeds

and pollinate our love with joy



Fall Issue of Pea River Journal

Can't wait to read the Fall issue of Pea River Journal themed around 'The Burden of Home'. It also has one of my poems in it, titled The Summer We Called Home.


Clothes Pegs - Open Road Review

The poetry section of this fine journal is edited by Vaughan Gunson, all the way from NewZealand. My poem Clothes Pegs was selected for the May 2014 issue. Sorry for posting this a bit late here on the site. Nevertheless, here's the link:



This was published in The Brown Boat, a Raedleaf Journal:



Homes have no walls

no rooms, no furn

iture, no thresholds 

Nothing through which you might enter 

and nothing from which you might want to exit

Because homes are not houses

Homes are built in the eyes 

Erected by naked, hungry hearts

In skies, in dew drops, lichen, mosses, 

Sometimes on parched, parted lips

Sometimes inside the darkening irises of your eyes

Homes are tender assembles of empty air 

Sorted by the linear breaths you lend to me;

Built for unborn little feet to run

And for smiles to sun themselves on broad porticos

My home is in the centre of your palms

Sunk in the wells of your destiny

That you carry like a liquid in your eyes

Or like an abode in your hand, my very own delta 

Between the nine mounds of the universe




Day 17


Almost thought I wouldn't get the mental space to write today what with so much going on with the hacked email account and countless well wishers calling in.

But finally I did.

Today I.e. Day 17 prompt was to write a poem about at least three of the five senses.

Feeling It

The call of the cuckoo bird 

Like a deft crochet needle 

Diving into sound

Knitting laces of octaves

Moss on cliffs 

Arching it's back in abandon

Craggy chins velcroed to emerald cheeks

Grey aching silently beneath the brilliant velvet

Wise, aged tree barks

Stenciled in warm brown and crimped tan 

Resin, sap, nectar running in rivulets

Filling tiny creeks of wood like tears filling eyes

Sensations run from nature's spigot

I hear them, feel them, see them

In my knuckles reaching out to them

Even as I parcel them in my lungs for next life


Another review of my book on

Mamta Agrawal is a force to reckon with, when it comes to reviewing Literary books. I have read many reviews by her in the past but have to say that she has excelled herself in the review currently posted on boloji. And the fact that this time the book is my own, is purely incidental. Her review has depth that comes from a broadly read mind, it has that extra quality that comes from a exquisitely sensitive soul and the comprehensiveness born from a thorough reading of the material being reviewed. 

I'm truly Honoured to have my book so diligently reviewed by Mamta. 

Here's the link to the review:

Two poems published in The Brown Boat by Raedleaf Poetry India

Linda Ashok is a fine editor and so I was delighted to find my poems in the newly launched journal The Brown Boat, which Linda edits.

Here's the link:

The only thing is that you will have to scroll down considerably to reach my poems because the poets are showcased alphabetically.

Nice cover!