Confessional Poetry, Haibun, Haiku, Life, Love, Memory, Night, Poem, Poetry, Prose, Romance, Separation, Verse

Haibun 3

Distance

One of the three roads that led to my house may have been the longest, but I was sixteen, had a bicycle and could ride really fast. Putting all my weight on the handle bars, I could pump the pedals and whizz past the lime-washed houses, the landscape passing by in grey-green blur.

But back then, I liked to slow pedal down this road. Through the shimmering heat, I would see the road-tar turn black beneath the scarlet Gulmohar blooms… would smell the besan ladoos, long before crossing the sweet shop… would whistle to the sleepy mongrel by the side of a shuttered comic book store and then stop awhile to cheer the local cricket team.

This road wound past a kids’ park, hopped over a culvert, snaked past a kite maker’s workshop, stuttered near a century old banyan tree… and then gently careened beneath her balcony.

aching to read
the braille of her mounds –
sleepless night

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Confessional Poetry, Free Form Poetry, Life, Love, Pain, Poem, Poetry, Romance, Separation, Uncategorized, Verse

In an empty house

The bed unmade in the tenor
of our last quarrel, when my guilt
shattered against a brick wall

Like the shards of a fun house mirror
the faces bloated, sucked, thin
fat, tall, short, crazy, delirious, demented

I wonder which was the real me
the dog yet un-fed, the pillow unslept
the taste of your skin undone

From moonlight and orchids
evening mist and morning dew
my fingers that caressed your song

From the trill of the last free lark
the howl of the first wild wolf
or the flicker of an old oil lamp

Could I ever distill your absence –
your presence and all that’s lost
between the two, lost between us…

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