...and then

Sunday, 2 November 2014


I've loved a poet, a dreamer, a boy who never grew up,
He loved me with kisses on the forehead,
Strung poems in my hair
As I lay against his warm skin, on a bed on the floor,
While a Madras moon stood guard outside my window.

I loved a magician once
With dancing feet and a crooked smile.
He claimed my shoulder as his own one night,
As he made the stars rain with his sleight of hand;
His vanishing trick, an unmatched act.

I've even loved a bore, a nice guy who couldn't see
That I would be best when I lived free
He gave me trinkets in silver when I ran
A bribe, an imploring or a slave chain.

Totems for each of them, a horcrux for all.
A radio song for the magician,
Scars for the poet,
The bore, books and patience.

My evening  settles, gentle and low, a houseful of silence
Knocking at my door.
I open up a magic box, the magician's gift to me
Take out a poem, yellow, old and rusty

A caress here, a paw there, a hard yank of my hair
A memory, a moth, an unused black quill
They clamber out of the poem, and sit on my hands,
I greet them, gentle and slow
Where have they been, I ask
To the poet, the magician, or with the bore?



Blogger Ankita said...

hahah!! that was too gud! the 'bore' part was the best :D

10:23 pm  
Blogger Ira Chauhan said...

Poems in my hair...
...made stars rain
Totems for each of them
A horcrux for all...

Very nice sandhya!

6:49 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Good way to begin my MOnday!
Classic, TRQ :) Its good to have you back.

7:50 am  
Blogger Aathira said...

Absolutely brilliant!

9:03 am  
Blogger Unknown said...

This made my day :)

4:27 am  
Blogger Ghadeer said...

It's been so long since I stopped by your blog. Glad to see you are still writing as beautifully as ever :)

11:20 am  

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