There are so many things that you would never know about me

Simply cos you would think to ask, or would never care to listen

It wouldn’t be important to you, and I wouldn’t tell you when I speak,

There are some things which I can express better writing, or better yet,

By silence.


I love letters. Few things are as happy as a pages of handwritten words,

Mostly nonsense, mostly trivial, just for me.

Most relationships I measure in terms of the letters I’ve written.

The truth is, if I’ve written you a letter, I have loved you.


I wish you were the type of person who loved words like me

We could read poetry to each other, and write long letters

We could talk about our favourite phrases, the best words.

But you’re not in love with words like I am,

So I fall in love with other things about you:

Your eyes, your smile, the changes in your tone

And I try to ignore your words when you throw them around.


You would never know that my favourite afternoons are spent

Reciting poetry, letting the words drip slowly from my bottom lip.

You’ve never seen how my fingers quiver when they run over

A beautiful line, or an old, greying book. You don’t realize

How much I love walking into book stores, and just smiling

At the tall shelves and shiny volumes, all the different colours.


You don’t know what words mean to me, how they make my every day.

So I forgive you when you’re not careful with them,

Words aren’t the same for me and you,

And I will love you despite this.



One day, I hope not to wait

Watching as you erase  me

In new faces, places and stations.

I do not want to always hear

Your hurried goodbyes, two and a half minute

Long conversations about how busy you are,

While your friends laugh in the background.


I do not want to watch my days go away

As I watch my phone to make it ring,

My decision to be cold and not pick up

Evaporating the moment I hear your hey.


One day I hope to be you

Letting places and people push me around

Then I will not have to try

To make you a memory, it would be too easy

To forget you in the time I am busy.




NaPoWriMo Day#4 Prompt from http://www.napowrimo.net: Write a “loveless” love poem. Don’t use the word love! And avoid the flowers and rainbows.


I tell you the most inane things:

i need to shampoo today, a mosquito kept me awake at night

I feel blank when people tell me goodbye and maybe never realize they’re gone

Night is my favourite part of the day.


You listen in a way

That sometimes irritate me

Sometimes make me laugh sometimes make me angry

Sometimes make me feel your unknowing, still hands

Can hold just tight enough everything I want to forget,

In you.

The Lovely Lady in Grey

Writing201: Poetry

Day#6 Prompt: Hero/Heroine, Form: Ballad, Device: Anaphora, epistrophe


The children loved to wait in the way

Where walked the lovely lady in grey

Their lives were mostly sad blues

The lady’s smile gave it a brilliant hue.


The children were poor, you see

Their clothes were torn and dirty.

But when walked the lovely lady in grey

They felt the beam of the brightest part of the day.


The children in wait every morning lay

For there walked the lovely lady in grey

She brought food, she lingered a while

They loved it best when she would smile.


The children led rough lives in mean streets

And slept cold beneath tattered sheets

So when here walked the lady in grey

Her smile was like a pretty bouquet.


One day the lovely lady in grey looked in the mirror

And decided life wasn’t worth living with all the horror

Her death mattered to few, no flowers on her grave except

The wayside flowers picked by the children who wept

For the lovely lady in grey.

Moulds and Shapes

Writing 201: Poetry

Day#3 Prompt: Trust, Form: Acrostic, Device: Internal rhyme

Deliberating, her eyes raised and hand stretched, she waits

I grab hold firmly. I don’t want her to let go now.

Shakily she stands, her quivering hands, my heart wearily pants

The anticipation of what will come, the weight of what is done.

Rotten memories cloud us both, they will mould us

Unwilling we are to let them shape us, we tighten our hold

Striving to change our shapes, to be what we want to be instead of what we must

Till at last we can learn to trust ourselves not to let the world shape us.

How to be a Great Father

BlogHer prompt for Monday, November 10: What knowledge do you have that others don’t? Write a “how to” post about anything you’ve got skills for, small or large.

Dedicated to my father. “Appa”, whose birthday is tomorrow.


Turn off the internet and confiscate the laptops

Switch the lights off and tuck your girls in

And in the darkness, smile at the invisible sulks

Your daughters make while half-asleep.


Wake them up in the morning

Be useful by panicking about time

And asking repeatedly, “Have you forgotten..?”

Ignore their rolling eyes, and look around for what they’ve missed.


Miss them while they’re gone

All those hours in school

Which turn to months in college

Kiss them when they’re back

They secretly like it, though they say stop,

Their eyes will shine with home.


Complain about not having a boy around

Buy a football in vain to get them interested

Make them stay awake at night for World Cups,

But sit through their makeover-daddy sessions

And smile wickedly for a selfie with them.


Fight with them, make them run to mama

Be the baby, let them pet and pamper you

Pretend to sleep and wake up with a roar,

Enjoy their frustrated, “appa, stop!”

As much as their “miss you appa” over the phone.


Love them with all of your heart

And watch them break it over and over

Knowing without a doubt that

They’ll always come back,

Cos they’re appa’s girls.

Kisses and Salt

NaPoWriMo Day#1: Prompt from http://www.napowrimo.net 

Go to Reb Livingston’s Bibliomancy Oracle (http://bibliomancyoracle.tumblr.com/). Clear your mind, push the button, and then write a poem based on the quotation that the oracle provides.

The oracle provided me with this:

Don’t count on Lot’s wife:
her salty kiss only brings
copious tears. Lots. 


from “Lotto” by Timothy Bradford


Your soft hands on my aching back

The very hands that inflicted the pain,

Now coming to soothe the hurt you’d caused


What was I to believe in?

The hurt in your eyes that I couldn’t erase

Or the words you carefully picked to cut me with?


I was so lost in all your contrary signs.

I wanted to trust in the gentle kisses

You placed on my tear stained cheeks

But the frenzy with which you tore me

Lingered in my mouth like a mouthful of salt.


I was so young then,

Could you not have forgiven me

A little easier, a bit sooner?

Because now every time I want to trust

The comfort in your kiss

I choke on the salt rising up my throat.