ajulea

May I love you in silence – neither through actions, nor words? Words are like abandoned hives combed with remnants of honey, reusable and hollow. Actions, like golden spoons, taste of privileges that shooting stars cannot grant us. You…

This is not poetry. It is a confession. We were out of bread, milk, eggs and vegetables. The streets were surreal; it was a Van Gogh night. The silence was broken by hungry howling dogs two or three lanes away. My housemate and I walked…

Call me when the summer melts and rain pelts down the windows from where you launch paper planes as daylight wanes, which crash land in my yard, failing again to come in through my window. Poor weather is never right to land a flight perfect…

When did you last write poetry on paper? I prefer my phone – clean lines and less scribbles, no reliance on blunt pencils and old pens, no merry-go-round paper hunts for ruled lines. My writing doesn’t slant downward on my phone even when I’m…

Dance with me as shadows linger, celebrating sunset like one grateful for the cool crescent foam of swaying waves washing over toes dipped in summer sand at noon, which sink in surreptitiously, like one falls in love, or I did, watching you…

I’ll tell you a thousand words and I’ll paint them with a rhyme, take you down memory lane if you want to turn back time. Caramelised strawberry sauce dripping down from my tongue will make you slide down the chute to the nights when we were…

I ran like the whirlwind from my windowless home, through cracked, sun weary fields, to your two-storey house- all white walls and red doors, because you said your sky was breaking down and I thought my small shoulders, like Atlas, could h…

Thought bubbles float like paper boats downstream, like contraband cartons tracing golden, sticky orb webs to escape between the silk strands of delectable delusion before the Siren’s coaxing calls weave a warm bed for your slumber….

I sat cross-legged on the wooden floor reading rainy books on a sunny day. The tic tac toe shadows of window grilles inked my skin in temporary phases like moving jail bars and strumming guitar; I was a prisoner in my hollow whose screams vibra…

Crowded carnivals and contoured faces between pavement cracks in foreign places tired me, and in the slip before my fall, a shadow stepped in, like a Wonderwall. Oh stranger, you, from right out of the blue, stopped my heart beat for a secon…