100 poems/52 weeks challenge’ 2018
It is bloom
and in my dreams,
I have started appearing in a village
on the mountains.
I have laid down my embellishments
and picked up my poetry,
and remorseless, I wander
in pettiness and small ideas
of how you gave me your hand,
in the silk of
damp valleys and noodle aromas.
There was a singing in your hands
and on the railroads
there was love in your teeth
‘what a benign monster’
I laughed and let you take me away.
It was a narrative of a homegrown potted plant
and closed rooms with translucent windows
in a wild forest of sun
and still I romped about
in whatever boy-bike empire
you called your home.
You had biting eyes when I made the window blind
and I waited for you
in mad laughter
of a free playschool of heart
with no suitcases of mind.
Of all signals chopped like an onion
and all the people crying in the world
that I have eloped
in my transgressions,
but still I rise
वो शौक है रंग बदलता है मैं रंगरूप का सौदाई
Author Notes: My heart is a genius of utopia.