Found and Lost

I left my last poem
Curled in the clasp
Between my hesitation
And your firmness —

—it was the first time
You had held my hand
As something you wished to own
And ink bled through my pen
Into the raging blood stream
Which throbbed through
All I knew of my existence.


The poem before that
Had escaped notice
And suspended itself between our gaze —
The one that met scandalously
The one that is special only on occasion number one.

So it flew nonchalantly
From ivory sheets
To dark, deep eyes
And I had to gaze back into them
Each time, to recite.


Another incantation
I had engraved on petals,
Adorned them in delicate porcelain —
— the verse then dissolved
In your scent
And now I cannot read;
Only inhale it.


Our ballad of secrecy,
Of laughter and abrupt urgency
Of feigned gestures of decency
Was going to be sung
At the next open mic
In our city which is kind to poets —

— But passion turned us mute.

Now it can only be glimpsed
In quivers
Of lips
Learning a new language
To inscribe an impossible poem.


My verses had many homes
Until your left.

They now hang soundlessly
Scattered on uneven geographies
Of emotions which are still fresh, vehement.


My poems are our orphans —
—Our creations;
But mine to adopt and nurture.
I’ll bring them up into epics
Which future generations
Revere as ancestors —
—grand, but distant, incomprehensible;
Inspiring, but unrelatable.

Perhaps, I will grow up to distance our poems too.
Familiar, but archaic.
Sonorous, but fading.
Mine, but not anymore.

PS – Today’s dedication to Gulzar sahab – for only he is able to personify lost poems and search for them fervently in fading memories of a musty love. Dedicated also to songs we could never sing.

(Featured Image –



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