Winter Wonderland in Blue

I pick up the fruits and the flowers
Because summers do not last enough
I watch the child as she devours
Every toffee and pastry puff.

“I want to eat while I can,” she said
Giving me a sheepish smile
“You can’t stop untill I’m fed,”
She declares, swallowing another pile.

I look up to the sky in defeat
And ration for wintery nights
Barring the hundred degree heat,
I let the child in me take the lead.

Even in summer, the snowstorm is never through
The wonderland you creates is in blue
When Autumn never leads me askew
Winter will always draw me to you.

Palolem

At the shore, the bent coconut trees
Whisper to us in greeting
Like the lullaby of the ink black sea
Clandestine in their meeting.

The smell of crisp Summer air
Uncontaminated by the bustling city exhausts
Singing goodbyes to friends lost,
O what a joyous affair!

Looking for dolphins deep in the ocean
Finding butterflies and neckless turtles instead
We float unhurried, as if in slow-motion
Let the sun in our closed eyes, chrome red.

We walk on the sand, savouring this memory
Nostalgic about the present, swaddled by the tender sea
Too tranquil to dread the return to routine
We stay in the serene in between.

A History of Magic

To create seven books of magic, you must:

Add six ounces of imagination,
Mixed with five instances of rock bottom.
Saute it in a coulron with an adequate thickness for four minutes.

The hair of three people met at Kings Cross station
Plucked within two minutes en bloc in autumn

10 Tips for How not to Write a Poem

You do not close your eyes, or breathe
You shall not look around, or dream

You do not see colour for words in your mind
You shall always, always blame the grind.

You do not look up, down, or away
You shall not by program be lead astray.

You do not seek sensations worth serenading about
You shall never ever try evading clout.

You do not read anything worth temptation
You shall always be distracted by hesitation.