An unamused reply

An unamused reply

How quaint they are
These careless entreaties
Of yours.

As if I were a merchant
Selling verse by the kilo,
Or the pound.

Your partner only dances
As well as you do, and only
As badly.

Do not think me cold
Of course, we have danced
Together -

Through sonnets, sestinas, villanelles
Epic trilogies, thunderous dramas and scripts
Through love, hatred, war, farce and tragedy,
Even death.

Your offer me your starvation,
Broken relationships and alcoholism
As gifts.

I do not need them, I bring
Them myself. They drip onto your hand
From my wings.

Lure me instead with your
Careless inward eye. Do not underweigh
Your indolence.

I come only as holy witness to
Your sacrificing yourself on the altar
Of yourself.

I do not come to entertain.

Upside-down Kiss

Upside-down Kiss

Upper lip on lower lip,
Lower lip on upper,
Held together delicately,
Before they part into each other.

My nose fits cutely
Into your dimpled chin
Your breath on my neck
Stumbles like a startled mare

You on a sofa, me behind,
Tipping your head back
With my fingers
Or you flat on a bed

My eyes hold yours,
While my face descends,
Clumsy until my tongue finds
The warm familiarity of yours.

Mouth raised, my gaze tumbles
Down your lovely neck and breasts
My eyes read yours, I search
For a sign of amusement.

But they only say to me
So this is technique then -
Turning the same body upside down
On the same familiar sheets.

Where are the simple phones of yesterday?

an anti-mobile villanelle (you knew I'd get round to it someday)

Where are the simple phones of yesterday?


Damn these mobile phones of today.
Built in Finland, styled in France
Where are the simple phones of yesterday?

At a movie, a dinner, even on holiday
Silence no longer has a chance
Damn these mobile phones of today.

No call waiting, we'd talk and talk away
Alas, talk's no longer an uninterrupted dance
Where are the simple phones of yesterday?

The secret contact that's a single 'A'
We won sordid affairs for fine romance
Damn these mobile phones of today.

The "guess who's this" games we'd play
Not just identification at a glance
Where are the simple phones of yesterday?

How long will these carcinogens stay?
When will we break this ring-tone trance?
Damn these mobile phones of today.
Where are the simple phones of yesterday?

extended limerick

meant to be read in limerick rhythm

There was a young girl from Bengal
Who had no phone manners at all
She'd yack and she'd yack
You couldn't talk back
Just mutter resentfully at her gall
And wait for when in love she will fall
With a guy named Jack
Who'll put her out of whack
Wondering just when he will finally call

Set Dosa

And with the rains come more slush
And with the rains come more mush.....

Set Dosa

It comes in five pieces. A pieced-out mash of yellow potatoes wrapped in five pieces of crisp brown dosa cloth. With impeccable accuracy, the waiter puts down the plate exactly in-between the two of us. The sambhar is like nectar. I can tell that even before I taste it, as I watch you a swallow a spoon of it and see its colour spreading in your cheeks. We never talk while we eat. At least, not with words. You won't speak even to disapprove of the way I dump the sambhar and chutney on my piece of dosa before swallowing it, treating red-orange nectar and green ambrosia like they were just two flavours of ketchup. I still haven't absorbed the habit of having them separately with a spoon, like you do. You only speak when we get to the fifth piece. You say in mock pleading, "But I'm hungry". And I have to laugh, and surrender spoon and fork.

A light drizzle has started outside the restaurant. We have two cups of coffee while we wait for it to stop. We blow the cool air of nostalgia over warm reminisces and sip carefully of the trepidatious future. We avoid talking about the present. As if it were something that needs to be held just right - like these stainless steel coffee cups, filled to the brim, held just at the top, too loose and it spills over you, too tight and you burn yourself.

Its still raining, even after we pay the bill and walk out. But for once, you don't mind being led out into a warm drizzle. And I don't mind either. Its been years since I walked you home in the rain.

How did Jim Reeves do it?

attempt in a caferati writing exercise.....


How did Jim Reeves do it?

This modern existence is the pain.
Put on hold on mobiles, land-lines,
On IMs I'm minimized away again.

Never alone with you despite designs
That involve candle-lit dinners, walks alone,
Weekend cottages, the heart still pines.

I hope this ancient black telephone
With no call-waiting might contain
Just our voices at last alone