I Don't Sleep On My Bed

Before leaving my love

You left a swamp

Of tears in my bed

I don't sleep on my bed now

Come and see yourself

Every night

I sleep outside like a beggar

On the cold pavement 

Of our memories

You Are Not What I Am

I’m a coin tossed into the beggar's bowl

A season almost an autumn

You are a castle built by kings

A river almost an ocean

I’m a rainbow morphed out of thunder and light

A reflection almost a mirror

You are a temple carved out of faith and solitude

A season almost an eternity

I am but a rhyme, a rhythm

You are but a reckoning, a reason

You are not what I am

I can never be what you are.

Prison Break

No one is watching

Not even you

But tell me love

How can I break from your snarled prison?

No one who can bail me out

No one I can bribe

No inmates I can plan secretly my escape

Not even any locked bars

Oh! Then tell me love

How can I break from your snarled prison?

I Haven’t Written All About You

Sorry, I am not finished yet

I haven’t written all about you

You are the poem that consumes

All my poems

The journey of my words ends in you

The caravan of my passion stops with you

You consume me like a poem

All my love,

All my words,

All my rhymes and rhythms

They find you and they are lost

But love,

Sorry, I am not finished yet

I haven’t written all about you

I AM A WOMAN.

I am a woman

I am the refugee of your world

You will not find me on any list

Don’t try to find me

I belong to no country

I have no home

I will never be found on your maps

I am an unnamed city

Undiscovered town you seldom reach

Unless you are lost

On your arrogant journey to success

You only walk through me

Like you walk through a dark forest

In the moonless night

You never call me by my name

You who claim to love me

Call me 

Mother

Sister

Beloved

Mistress

But you never call me by my name

I am an unheeded garden

A cactus uncared on the way of you caravan

I am a woman

And nobody knows my name

I am the refugee of your world

I don’t have any address

Don’t try to find me

I live on the outskirts of the town

You deserted long ago

My name is still written on those walls

You never read it

Don't pretend to read it

You are blind to my name

I am a woman without a name

I lost my name

My body

My respect

Only to preserve

Your name

Your body

Your respect

I am a woman you will never know

I am a dried up river

That refused to merge with sea of your world

Leaving behind innumerable smooth rocks

Sitting on which you brood about

How to run your godless world

I am the forgotten figment of your demented memory

And if you ever try to pretend to know me

Remember

I’ll only smile back

Remember that smile

If you will!

To My Editor: God

I am the unpublished author of my life

You are my obnoxious editor

You change everything I write

When I write

A poem of my desires

You change it to an elegy of my wants

A prose of joy

You modify it to a critique of naivety

A fiction of my dreams

You alter it to random lies

A sonnet on my existence

You impose the question of arrogance

The anecdotes of my love

You dismiss them as insignificant flirtations

And when in the state of frustration

I write differently

In a different language

To rebel

To resist

You translate every word of mine

To mere nothingness

You promised me to publish my book

I never stopped writing

But now I know

Even though you will deliver your much hyped promise

I will always be an unpublished author

Of the book I wrote

And published author of the book

I didn’t write

I Am Your Postman

I am your postman

I carry all the letters you wrote to me

But I can’t find myself

Or the home you addressed them to

I will always be your postman

Even if pain is the only letter

You can write to me now

I will carry them all the way

Till I find my lonely home

I will drop them in my deserted postbox

And open them thousand times

With childlike smile on my face

I will read each letter and each line

Over and over again

And rhyme all your words

With patience and love

And if you want me

To write back to you

I will write, write me more love

I will bring you myself

All the blank pages of my future

You can write more pain on them

If pain is the only letter

You can write to me now

I am your postman

I will carry your letters all the way

Till I find my lonely home