poetry

the marigolds did not grow this year.you left us.a friend died of cancer.my migraines have grown in number.the children have […]

when a man passes bymy hips sway-a will of their ownthey have. at a signal the car sighsmen turn and

i’m standing at the threshold a child plump – hair tied eyes fixed on liquid lives i do notunderstand. i am four

sylvia plath did not commit suicide #loneliness murdered her being #misunderstood is what you do to me when you know ineed you 

nasiblove existed before longinglonging precedes lovingi reach the fire you had madefind ashes alonelonely in their dreams waiting for someone to

that search for the ideal I … lurking in shadows and searching relentlessly. she had seen the days of writing

drip drip ……. drip let the droplets accumulate in a pool of an insignificant amount allow them to flow from

fajr is quiet like dusk. a peaceful pause between one time and the other. she rose to say her namaz,

“he came softly to the recesses of my memory lips resting on his shoulder reminder of a longingnever satiatingnever completingoscillating

the koyal lost her waytodaymyriads of bricksthe one she had markednorth-east and homeward boundwas replaced by iron girdlesto erect an