Pic of the day

Pic of the day
Somehow, she's always the one up here.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Written on the twentieth

It's one of those days when all around, good wishes and smiles will surround me. Friends from yesterday and those who've only recently come and chose to share a moment or a word or a glance, when they heard that today was today, came along, to say 'hey'. It was a lovely thing to do. And to each and every one of you, I extend my warmest and my best and I'd like to say a big THANK YOU.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

What rhymes with rhythm?

The piece begins with simple beat,
not even penta, just the four.
A message into this to pour
is not always a simple feat.

Does prose have rhythm?
Can prose have rhyme?
Am I looking through a prism
and will it be a crime?

Friday, January 6, 2012

Clash of the forms

Is it true that poetry is not just about the rhyme? Of course there is the one-two-three (while the fingers tap in time). It's so compelling and fulfilling, to culminate a sentence thus: with a dance of fingers, feet and mind. It's a super stimulus. It was good advice from a very sound source: respected, educated, well-read, of course. But another had shared yet another juicy view that when something burst forth, only then follow through.

Neither is law and neither misinformed. I will do both and both shall adorn this space of mine where rhythm meets rhyme – Time to grow and change, no? It will be written from within and every day the other will win and both shall be equally real and I'll try to stay true to what I feel.

Sunday, January 1, 2012


Late night's
bright lights
blaze with no warning:
memories in the morning.

Dance: drop the wine;
chance: "drop me a line";
tonight, the moment's
yours and mine;
said to be providence,
perhaps divine.

Hugs and wishes,
farewell kisses,
missed sunrises,
new-year promises:
the branded night and tag-line morning are come and gone and now are done;
the year ahead's the season's flavour: gladly, it was well-begun.