|Broke poet . Loves words, whiskey, old movies and dancing in the rain. Smiler. Hugger. Foodie.|
I'm back in the house where I was born, sitting under the old mango tree.
The sky, the earth, the stories my grandmother told -they're all still the same.
Only I have changed,
a stranger in my own land.
Ma, your prodigal has returned.
Each day I think of a million things I miss about you. I miss your eyes looking at me like I'm the most wondrous creature to walk the earth. I miss your arms around me, holding me close like I'm precious. I miss how your chest feels so firm when I lie on top of you - you are to me what the earth is to a tree.
I miss your hair and your legs, how they are only perfect they are when they're tangled up in my fingers or my legs. I miss the many sounds of your voice -your quiet chuckle while reading, your booming exclamations across the room, your husky baritone at dawn.
I miss your unbridled passion, your inescapable humour and your annoying obstinacies. I miss seeing you draped over ...
I smiled a lot today for no reason. I think sometimes we're blessed with days when life doesn't seem so bad for a while. Other days, I try to smile anyway, because people don't like to be around sad people.
I went for a walk on my way home. The weather was horrible, all hot and humid, but I went and sat by the sea. I live right next to it and I find the sound of waves comforting. Do you like the sea?
Sometimes when it rains, I go lie on the sand and look up at the sky. It makes me laugh, when the rain falls on my sky.
I was wondering what it must be like where you are. I'd like to think that if I were to meet so many people, then I'd be a collector of passing smiles.
A little something I found, written by Rosemarie Urquico.
You should date a girl who reads.
Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.
Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They c...
Delhi on a December Morning
Now the fog holds onto me, like all those lecherous eyes did
I walk on slowly waking
up roads, dogs chasing an old
man on a cycle, and the distant sounds of women making rotis
in warm houses.
On winter mornings, the city
has lost its bite, and i can
finally reach out and touch it, and curl myself a little space.
Old brown buildings, stand up on their walking sticks like
old women, with so many storiespouring out of them.
People lived in them,
and new ones came,
and the brown buildings made
way for shiny one white
buildings in stiletto heels.
Shiny cars whisk by the
rusting carcass of an old wreck, and this air i breathe,
I loved you at the edge of dawn,
when we were young and
I loved you when the floods
came, even though I was washed
I loved you under the cherry
tree, when we found each
I loved you at the gates of god, where you looked into my soul.
I loved you with haunted
memory, even after I turned to dust.
I have loved you since
I learned of love - beyond reason, beyond rhyme
And quietly, quietly quietly,
I will have loved you
till the end of time.
That which you gave so freely,
you took back.
I had slept the contented sleep only lovers and dogs know of,
warming by a dying fire.
You stole away into the night.
You knocked over my lamps,
and tripped over my rug
and still got away - with my
beating heart thrown
into the depths of your purse,
with your keys and your
cigarettes and the crinkled
wrappers of moments lived and loved and lost.
Hello - thank you - good bye, my fickle darling.
I had the most ordinary sort of day today. It being the last day of my vacation, I went for a long walk with the dogs and sat beside a little stream with my legs in the water. I sat and read under a tree and wondered at the idyllic simplicity of it all. I fell asleep reading and woke up to the dogs licking my face. Then I pretended to be one of them and rolled about with them in the afternoon sun. It was so marvellously silly.
There has been no rain yet today, but I'm certain that I can taste the promise of rain on the cool wind that's blowing outside now. Tomorrow, I take a flight back to Mumbai, and it will be back to work and the melancholy of life in the city. When I am there...
It's raining here right now. I suppose I've always had a madness for rain. I like how when I turn my face to the rain, it gets in my eyes, and my mouth, seeping under my skin and right into my soul.
When the rain kisses my face, I feel that it is a perfect moment. It feels like the consummation of everything beautiful in the world - a moment where anything is possible, where I am everything and everywhere. When the rain kisses my face, I feel loved and I feel terribly alone, I feel powerful and insignificant, happy and sad.
One of these days, when the rain kisses my face, I will kiss it right back.
I stole your heart out of your
I carry it around with me, in a little paper sack.
I will love you in ways you cannot yet devise,
but hey, you needn't love me back.
I can hover at the edge of your lips, like a blind man at
the gates of sight.
I can wait for their searing
touch, like the dawn waits for the light.
I can hover at the edge of your lips for a lifetime -thirsty, quietly breathing,
just waiting for a kiss.
A little more than a friend and a little less than a lover,
we flit around the road of
possibilities; never quite
meeting in the open fields of
certainty but in the winding
bylanes of the dark.
Unwritten and unseen,
I feel you ever so moistly
in the dark.
Five minutes before the rain comes the wind that cuts your power out. Dark falls on your skin. You sigh, light a cigarette and exhale.
You think of me. The wind stirs and the rain rolls in sheets of moist damp skin on cotton sheets.
You wish I was there.
Someday soon, love. You wont have to sit in the dark. When the lights go out, kiss me,
When you love me, I get fireflies under my skin.