Image

QUEER

13450080_10209250688841518_3738041188104456446_n                                    I

Freedom. Fragments of freedom
minds choose to chase.

Glimpses. Just mere glimpses of it –
Skittery branches, hope you see the light.

Proud. Loud.
All hail, Society’s Straight.

 LGBT is free. Open.
And their opinions, ‘straight’

 

                            II

Love letters have had raised eyebrows.
And love stories, sword.

Love slivers form;
formed LGBT: blessed hearts of Gold.

Cramps in the heart, vision squints.
‘Tis pity that society thinks its queer.

Hope leans against the sun.
Like, a cat on a hot tin roof.

 

                          III

In the half-light you think ‘tis love.
Broad daylight and you ask if it’s movement.

Freedom flickers on narrow streets of normality.
And, love enters through rivulets of movement.

Minds behind soda glasses,
opposites attract, they say.

Love strikes gender alike –
Can there be a why?

 

                        IV

Pretty. Pretty. Love.
Rainbow is now an umbrella.

Ahoy! Queer’, screamed the law instant.
And, it rained from the eyes again.

You have your identity.
Let them have theirs –

After all, you see rainbows after rainfall;
you don’t complain the divine.

 

 

 

EMPTY STRANDS

Proximity into the dark blue sky,
the light & shade of the shimmery world
makes me feel shy.

Dark kohl eyes, watch me by and 
I lie silent inside the four walls of my life 
as every second pass by.

Melancholic memories echo 
and leave me furious. 
As I write, the pen,
sweet, but painfully hit my ego.


I spend hours with the empty strands and 
realise that those essays with little hands 
have casted their ways for bluish poetries.

While to my subconscious;
poems, stories and some part of you
are like cobwebs in the empty strands.