India Street Photography

India Street Photography

India Street Photography

The opposite side of the sea

Meet me
on the opposite side of the sea
where people live painted white
with yellow smiles, see me there
a man who isn't there
climb up that hill's thigh
the one where we didn't share a sunrise
throw me a faithful whisper
and ill decipher
with the save-my-heart glasses
the day is dimming red now
i look at my watch
and its that time of the day
when time is a great healer

Express Mail

the story doesn't end here
there are letters still to come by
they'll return with answers inhibited,
with sounds that you have escaped
and a pile of broken embraces eluded.

so bear with me my love
wait for his urban skin,
pay him a handful of baksheesh,
and latch on to the scent of my seal,
learn to pronounce my city-state
then memorize

rhyme your eyes
with my September voice
and read it glamorously by the window,
let the winds return with
the chant of your honeycomb clip,
let them in your old white frock
while you eat my laments
in the quietness of your hands.

Dead Poet

I am empty
colored red
with a sight of sorrow
settled quiet in my paper skin
with your name
and your photograph all over me
i drop a line
squeeze a teacupful grin
and stir the last hints within me
to conjure up a future of us together.

i am a sad poet
cajoled into still life
and loneliness evades me
within a blurred distance
where you become an impression
in a shallow depth of field
and i become the focus of a ruthless eye.

epiphany

Beauty lies in the names
crawling over lips like ants
marked with letters
clear and readable
but faces - they delude
like clouds
foul and illegible.

One moment you seem a ferry,
the next moment you are a jellyfish
with voracious tentacles all over my sky.