Saturday, July 02, 2016


Closing one door behind, 
she inched to open another; 
In a while, the world around, would 
burst to smithereens or wane into vapor;

On all fours she moseyed. 
Her eyes drifted across the spines; 
With a cup of chamomile in one hand 
she picked one and reclined.

Reaching for the head of the lamp,
till she had its undivided attention; 
She tilted it a little towards her lap. 
And off she sank to a parallel rendezvous beneath the mantle. 

A tycoon from a bloodline of mythical gods, 
Or a victim of unrequited love who lisped between kisses.
Restless, recluse spaghetti renegade, amongst other choices. 
They all journeyed to meet her from terrains, unacquainted.

The plot would, usually, unfold at a faraway countryside. 
That feeling of peculiar at first glance, yet familiar for eons; 
Would follow an encounter by chance.
Usually, with an odder from a tinted race and distant land. 

A murky scandal or an affair to remember. 
With ups and downs, plot twists and turns.
The tale surged forward to a happily-ever-after;
And unhurriedly, at the end, her misty curtains descend.

Thus, every night she would kip on the same recliner
Or, if her joints weren’t aching, she dragged herself to bed.
Yet, not once, did she wish the line to blur
between her paperback pursuits and reality as she greyed.


Monday, March 14, 2016

Napkin Notes VI

She fed; while he supped on some soup.
Taking turns, one after another, they finished supper.
In this table for two, sat three.

The narcissist blonde 
loved to stroll all day 
around the geoid of mirrors.

Hanging upside down “Who? Where? How?”;
He wailed after getting spanked. 
None could grasp what he spoke.

This one time, as he lay; 
She heard whatever he said.
On this couch, he was the one to pay.

After a long wait; Out of the closet in a wink. 
Narrowly, missing the stomping boot.
With flying colours, this cockroach took wing.

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Do try this at home. Please do.

Imagine you could put your hand 
into your skull through your forehead.
And reach right into your brain;
Gently, hypothetically, it surely won’t pain.

Right at the top of your mind; 
don’t wallow too deep.
Just skim the shallow. 
And fish out a name.

Now, try to bring it forth
and place it before your eyes.
Put a face to that name; 
Perhaps, an outline of their mien.

The farther they are
The clearer the picture.
However, it’s not an easy task
When it’s a name of someone rightly near.

More so, when it’s the one you more than adore. 
And not just love. Love is an arid, slothful word.
That’s used by the not-so-well-versed 
For the lack of a better word;

Ah! Don’t digress. 
Ostensibly, love does that often.
Now, could you place a face to that name?
Or could you see further or yonder?

Now, keep that imagination on;
Let’s take a few steps further down.
Tilt back wherever you can 
Close your eyes and seek the owner of that name.

Seconds, is all it takes, 
thanks to the speed of thought.
It’s like you had that word at the tip 
of your tongue but you couldn’t recall. 

Perhaps, now you’ll sense their presence.
That communion. The warmth of their hands.
The cold rub of their nose. The air caught between
The finger tips, and your skin, as they run.     

As an endless season, bittersweet after taste, 
agreeable arguments, melancholic glee, 
and muted conversations 
is what surfaces instead of their face.