Category Archives: Poetry

fiction and poetry, Poems, Poetry

Answer

The answer to silence :
Is a breath of someone you remember

It seeps into yours lips,
It blossoms up your neck
Turns it into a tendril drowsed in rain.

It caresses the lungs, painting them
In hues or orange, red and shallow yellow.

Your toes move when you hear me.
Have you ever noticed?

A freckle gleams and shapes the arc of cheeks.
Its like the summer where you met me.
Its the summer , you shall never have again.

I became the monsoon, after that,
Turned you into a rainforest
Drop by drop.

Like it should always have been.
Always.

Standard
Fiction & Poetry, Life, Poems, Poetry

Quantums of Happiness

Your presence,
Is a dance without a hymn,
A ballad without a bend,
a winter without an end:
where I curl up by the fogged glasses
to forget the warmth sun offered me once.
The bright of your eyes are the shy autumn and mysterious fall.

Your absence,
Is a sigh without despair,
A rain without the air,
A summer with ominous ends:
My smile sometimes pretends.
For time becomes a path,
and journey is measured in memories.
I become a monk and a thief,
looking for peace, settling for grief.

Standard
fiction and poetry, Poems, Poetry

Relapse

Oysters devoured raw with lemon,
the sun turning burned orange, its warmth
slips teasing my citrus lips,

The tongue of fire,
tell me once,
Is this all real:
silence amidst unquestioning brightness.

Would I not relapse, into the same room again
with a finished pinot noir on the floor?
the tongue needing a flood,
lungs: a river of smoke
and the heart: a sea of troubles.

SB

Standard
creative-writing, Poems, Poetry

The Girl with Ouija Board

Dark sinister whisperings
rouse my soul up,
‘Every Tongue has a demon
buried within its veins, for
it gives birth to thirst,
lust and blood.’

She told me before sleeping.
Archaic hymns, butchered lemons
drowned in vinegar, disappeared behind
a mist of lavender smelling candles,
apexed at pentagram made of saffron.

I feel her curves turn cold,
the lips turn ominously black,
‘Eyes are windows to this world,
darkness is the passage to all other’
she keeps murmuring,holding my hand
till it is not she anymore.

I could sense it the way my hands are touched,
the way she removes her clothes then
and the way she kisses.
She never told her of her fetishes
and now I can’t even ask.
Ever.

– SB

Standard