Paeans - and Aches

over the years

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Bombay 1

Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. *whew*
Way too many syllables
To fit into a haiku.


Writers writing about writing.

Isn’t it cool
To be able to use one’s only skill
To describe one’s only gift
And call it art?
The only thing more vain—
Not to speak of self-indulgent
and probably easier—
Would be speakers speaking about speaking.

New words

Teach me,
Teach me new words;
Mine are all worn out.
They buy, they sell,
They build and knock down,
They have been weighed out,
Measured, counted, timed,
And sold.
I’m out of stock now,
So, teach me.
Teach me new words.
For I have run out of love songs.

Riff 8

Sing for me.
Not just to me,
Sing for me;
Because I can’t hold a tune.
I will write you love songs
And you can sing them to me.

Saturday, November 11, 2006

I left some poems in a cab today

If I was trying to make a living out of poetry
The title would have read:
I left some poems in the train today.

Thursday, November 09, 2006


Some you meet, smile,
And move on.

Some fill a need,
Patch a tear, soothe a brow;
Then, they’re needed no more.

Others tarry longer,
Recalled now and then,
In joy or sorrow,
Or restful contemplation,
Pinned up on softboards,
Entrusted to a computer’s memory
Because your own is fickle,
And you wish not to be.

And once in a lifetime
(More often if you’re lucky),
One comes along
That does not just speak to your heart;
It breaks your heart;
It makes your heart;
It is your heart.
There is no need to memorise it,
For its words are your words,

That, Love, is what I would be to you.