Time,Dreams,Morning news, Blinding love

What is this time?

Turning the tottering steps to running feet?

the gurgling laughter to dimpled smile

And the bewitching looks so sweet

ending in wrinkled smile sans teeth?

What is this time?

That changes the darling buds of May

And the leaves to gold and sere

that gives the trees an ascetic look

And slowly sows the seeds of life

What is this time?

That’s never changing, never ending

Constant and ceaseless as the beginning


My dreams melt

Like ice pools

slippery and disturbing

in childhood;

they frost’d

my cake of happiness

in youth;

they layered endlessly

in the middle years;

dry and crumbled

with age

now a single one

is left

should I swallow It

or website it

ind @dreamsend. com


I watch him

peach blush

thro’ lacy

blue mist

a rosy peach

on fire,

tree-hopping crows

flap greetings

moths and butterflies

take off

On early morning flights

mother sparrows

string worms

for baby formula;

and, in the yard

next door

blue-grey smoke snakes

the burnt smell

of toast’d leaves.

as my neighbour sets

his portly thighs

in bulging motion

his svelte wife

in nightshirt

favours me with

the languorous indulgence

of a cat stretch

honey drips

on my moming toast.


A fogg’d world

flits thro’

her eyes, burning anguish;

pain seeping

thro’ the pores

of her mind;

breathing black hate

his epileptic mind

drew with lnsensate


a thin line

of poison’d love

thro’ arid eyes.

Blind to tears

she could see

only the acid

in his heart


Of a girl refusing to accede to her husband’s demands of money, had her eyes lovingly smeared with surma mixed with acid resulting in blindness.

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