poetry

poetry

Ambushed

Poetry - Ambushed Picture 1 - Water Lilies in Dark Water Picture 2 - Exposed Roots

poetry

Sunrise Hymns

There is a room in my school - Sunrise Hymn. And over a few years, I have written poems on that title. Here are all of them. The image is of the sun as I saw it one early morning in Bori Wildlife Sanctuary at the foothills of Satpura Range.

poetry

Morning Skies or Blue Velvet

On a morning one day, not long ago, I went to my terrace to look at the stars before dawn. The sky was ablaze in blue.

poetry

I Am All

I am all. And all is me. This street in an ancient town has killed many and saved many. Don't look for order and justice and goodness. Look only for the dim yellow light.

poetry

Svabhava

I was travelling to Konya in late winter on a clear morning. The fields on the sides of the road were light brown. And far off on the horizon, a little house, barely visible. Perhaps, the house of the farmer tending to these fields.

poetry

We, The Condemned

I took the image of the semazen (in the cover) during a sublime performance in a caravanserai.

poetry

Mythica Apocrypha

poetry

The Gentle Mother

I do not remember how this poem came to be. I had an image of a gothic veil in my mind. The image is of a dry lake somewhere in India. I took this many years ago.

poetry

Pilgrims without Shrine

The exiles and the renegades The merchants and the usurpers The givers and the takers The noblemen and the plebeians The brown and the black The stone and the gossamer The Jaisalmer yellow and the Iznik blue The Damascus dagger and the ultramarine dust These pilgrims without shrine. ~mk

poetry

A Tale Was Once Told

A tale was once told Of journeys and pilgrimages Of penance and repentance Of redemption and absolution There were many in that wagon to purgatory. A scholar who lost his mind A priest who lost his faith A general who lost his command A consul who started a war A

poetry

Siris - Trees of Northstar

I write poems for kids, for trees, and some reflections on the trees. Trees of Northstar. Our guardians. Custodians of memories. Listeners of our tales. They will be here when we no longer are. This is my attempt to share the beauty and grace of our trees. SIRIS A giant

poetry

Boulder Ruins

The teleology of architecture is ruin. The fate of empires is to lay waste. Those cities turn to dust, By the marauding armies of horses, And elephants, and men in armour. Armour of greed and hierarchy, Of memories of loss. The granite boulders carved into monuments, Only to be ground