Hush

To velvet shades, generous breeze,
To unwalked streets, dusty ‘n rubbled;
To virgin green ‘n deeper dark
Come hither little secret, hold my hand!
Let’s walk on our own, on and on.

In the Land of Clichés

The word did not say anything
It landed sleepily on the tired nothings
The numerous nothings that happened before.
She smiled a no smile
It was not fake
It was just a smile that was not there.
The words did not lift her
The words were no words.
Nothing meant what it was
For example, a phone was not a phone
Yes it was still called a phone
It still rang and still transferred electronic signals
But nobody talked or heard
Words collided and died at the mouthpiece.
The tears that followed were actually no tears
No, nothing was fake
It was just that they ceased to be what they were.
When one cried the other knew how to stroke through her hair
It was not compassion
It was just there, meaning nothing.
When one joked the other knew one had to laugh
Similarly they fought too
The fights that 'naturally' came.
Everything was just so precise
Predictable, calculable, foreseeable.
No apologies for the repetitions, sir
I am bound to using cliches.

A Poor Man’s Dream

Haughty high mangoes
Nose rubbing clouds
Lost to a silly wind
Waking up a poor man