- #poemaday ananth aranya Atyachar beauty Bombay City Could be verse epiphany forest Gothamisation hasi to fasi hmmm hypocrisy I Quote It is written I want to ride my bicycle kaha gaye woh din Lou middle class mithya Music nasha nature night nostalgia One Bad Day poetry Prosepoetry the apocalyptic real traffic Uncategorized vignettes why?
tagsanger aranya auteur beauty birdsong black Bombay bombay streets cars chauvanism circle city cityscream creation crows cycling death detergent development dhrupad Eco ecstasy evening eyes fear fight flight forest forests frustration Ghalib grass guilt insomnia kachra Kanti uncle Krishnaa liberated life lost lou Love madmast marine drive masculinity metaphors minisha lamba mirrors music nasha night nirma nostalgia observer phallic symbol PoMo Rain rant relationships safedi ki jhankaar silence sleep soar solitude space spirit the sea three traffic Ustad voyeur water white wild worm
Category Archives: Lou
The gathering night clutches the folds of her robe as she looks out into the moonless dark… an impregnable roar echoes the anguish, the solitude of the sea * Solitary queen In the high castle she craves distraction there is … Continue reading
There is only one song One reed The sound slithers through the windows Of the eternal flute Scouting for an opening Searching for a solitude That it will never find Heart of the fire🔥 from which time came And left … Continue reading
leaves crackle underfoot. Fumes of wet earth spiral upwards into the translucent moondust; twilight rain’s afterthought. the saxophone breath of the night. soft rustle of foreboding. the forest begins to stir. sleep leaves the eyes of trees in little dew … Continue reading
Unfurl me then In the arithmetic of your desire| With eyes That could bleed subterranean rivers dry Eyes that narrate Fables of a breathless haste, a fumbling tizzy of hands| I have found a spot In the bustling side roads … Continue reading
and dawn looks through the French windows, ruffles my hair and slips in between the sheets knocks on the door of my breath and listens to me with an ear to my chest listens to the tangerine ring of sleep … Continue reading