The July 2014 Issue of IJML

 I received my copy of the July 2014 issue of the International Journal on Multicultural Literature today. 
The journal is published biannually in a book form by Prof K.V. Dominic from Kerela. It brings together diverse poets, writers and academicians from all over the world. It's delightful to read so many voices expressing themselves through articles, short stories and poetry. 
This issue carries three of my poems which I am posting here for my readers. 
I must make a mention of Anisha Ghosh's poem -Anonymous in the same issue. Loved it!


We Become a Destination

In a magical corner of air

A cello plays sacredly.

My heart tumbles into your sagacious posture,

Turns into a capering contour for your fingers,

Begs for the uneven geometry of your craggy words 

As it watches you unfold ancient parchments in your eyes

Relaxed white walls 

Shift between my left and right brain hemispheres 

Show me a kaleidoscope of a million rosy moments

Knitted into a single future.

Music bows into this enamored opera of love

Rains swing into this diaphanous rhapsody 

Sheer and sweet like curtains 

When we gaze at each other,

Through all the bitter lessons waiting to be learnt,

We fall into a dream.

We float like wisps of feathery seeds into each other's throats

Slip into gulps of immortal love.

Time less, journey less, route less, 

We cease to traverse. We become a destination


Alloy Ink

This ink

Dark with desires

Old with knowledge 

Older with thirsts

Incendiary yet apologetic 

Inciting yet comforting

When I write

The ink becomes 

As cleansing as water

One fine day in history

It hardens, becomes tensile like steel 

Coagulating feelings into

A frozen crystal lattice, defying time

Blistering souls

Forging truths

About why things are the way they are

In the crucible of life


My name, a boat

My name is a boat

Porting my courage

To the pure waters 

Of your voice 

Say it

Break my name between your teeth

Taste it with your tongue

The way you would taste a fruit

Or sip wine

Savor the breaking bedrocks of its syllables

The furrowed alluvium of its earth 

Smeared and shiny with too much walking

With too few pauses 

Floating into eternity 

on the sails of your lips

Docked in the anchor of your throat

Only to bob again in the water of your eyes

When you rise next morning...or the next

My name is a boat moored between your own


Abandoned in Old Age

The grime and garbage on the streets 

Are his focus points

Things he wakes up to every morning

Tortured by his aching joints

The street air has little in it

To give to his poor lungs

Oxygen is not an option 

Here on life's lowest rungs

His clothes are baggy

Tattered and torn

The same he wore

When he was thrown out of 'home'

Only his tears are fresh

Refreshed everyday

When he assesses the cruelty

Of being abandoned this way

He relies on whatever he can find 

Bits of leftover pizza and bread

Thrown away waste

Have become sustenance instead

I catch his eyes at a traffic signal 

See in his eyes, the clarity of pain 

Wan lips, pale cheeks, gauntness

That he tries to conceal, in vain

The rudder of life sometimes

doesn't steer very right

Man depends on his children

But children are indifferent to elders' plight

Old age and loneliness

Go hand in hand

When life deepens and ripens

Ironically, all joys disband 

The pain of this reality

Haunts like a ghost

Why loved ones abandon us

When we need them the most

We're living inside deaf walls 

Where no sensitivity permeates

Compassion is dead

We've forgotten how to tolerate

Demeaning those 

From whose seed and womb we are born

Ceding the flowers

And clinging to the thorns