Streets of the city has recently bathed, with a sudden hour
long mid-Summer's rain.
Romeo trudged down the empty street, towards his lonely
pad located on a terrace.
He had nothing to call his very own, excepting his dear old
Saxophone!
The crowd in the hotel applauded as he played, since he played
with empathy like every other day.
He had met his Juliet briefly once, those were the moments of
a happy trance!
The saxophone has countless musical notes embedded inside, -
For our Romeo to play them out night after night.
Yet so many Romeos like him shall slowly fade away;
And the saxophone shall play their dirge at the end of
the day!  
                                                         -By Raj Nandy, New Delhi

I move
through gently opening embraces
and find myself
firmly enveloped in your luscious warmth
that urges me to push on further
until we reach the moment
  out of time and space
that holds us close
forever and again
  one
in a world of brilliant galaxies
  exploding
in deep space

Lately
I don’t feel close
to poetry.

It feels elusive.
Unfamiliar.
Once it spoke to me.
But now it’s mute.

It sits back
and doesn’t look
at me.

If I call out
it doesn’t hear.

Lately poetry is
like that demon
I used to want
to reappear.

it was an orangey-red kinda scheme in the sky
that evening
that evening that
“changed our lives for the better”
which was subjective.

you told me you didn’t cheat
but you found somebody else
that needed love and care
and more perspective in life,
one that shouldn’t be tied down..

needed to get out there and discover..

and it was you.






you found yourself and you lost me