Tuesday, 4 June 2013


When you would have me
Still, and restful, and serene
I cannot help but shift, drum fingers
And move to a rhythm in my head. 
When you ask that I simply exist
Unleavened, and therefore, unpounded
How - How, I ask, can I be that
Which I can't. Ever.
You may have left that fizz aside.
But boy, have I got enough, within!
That niggles, and nudges, and
Slowly, then steadily, and rapidly
Bubbles forth. 
You wanted a model;
Perhaps a mendicant, of the soul;
That you could, then mould.
But- May I, myself, form into the
Shapes of my dreams?
Mould into them,
Lest I mold. 
4 June, 2013
Online. In anticipation, of cross-currents, and cross-wiring.
Sigh. I know. I'm in need of some rest :P


  1. But- May I, myself, form into the
    Shapes of my dreams?

    This is Wow!

  2. lovely!
    If I understood the intended meaning ,Isn't it asking for space and freedom to be what one likes to be ?
    The way this poem unfolded to me, its like someone in love asking his/her beloved to accept the way each he/she is.
    I loved not only the thought but your choice of words , very sweet indeed.

    1. I like the way you look at it too, Kirti. Thank you for delving into it, and finding some meaning as well!


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