Autumnal Rain – Haibun


The dusted road bathes today for the sky bleeds its white blood. Every drop is a wondrous suicide, a deliberate fall for love of joy. Who knew that the washed away soil would take everyone back to their dreams. We used to chase the rainbows till we forget each other’s faces. We floated and tasted the colors.Sometimes we carried them in our pockets for the night. Rain kept the fallen dead leaves alive. They would float to their shores to be picked by lovers, dried and kept in books. We were so young then.We could have been gods of our lives then.

dead red leaves float to
carry the smell of wet earth,
please take me along.


 – A Haibun is a Traditional Japanese Poetry that includes a Prose with a Haiku. The First Paragraph is a prose and the second one is a haiku.


They tell me I write somewhat ok.

I smile and greet them
as the sun greets
the minarets in the desert,
without a purpose.

Why don’t you write something about love, they say?
something about a terrible broken past,
it sells you know; they will love it,
they always relate to it.

I tell him,
I don’t get the vibes out of it.

Love sometimes feels like
eating leftover chips at
a mediocre burger joint.

I prefer watching dogs
playing in the rain

at least they never pretend.



Curled up
in a corner

staring at the mossed walls
amidst the light that devours fireflies

the petrichor is now stronger
than all the ales I had

this reverie
the imagery shows no sign of ceasing

and with everything coming back to me
I am ready to stumble again

and fall every step
to write and rewrite

the joy is somewhat incessant
like it always has been.




Some women are magic,
they play with their hair,
let off a smile,
and quietly
in steps drown you
in a infinite pool
of unrequited love

But she was different,
a glance at her,
dancing merrily,
like a 5 year old,
she just bolted within me,
forget drowning
and I never even heard the thunder,
just felt it all my life.