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Accounting


It’s an hour before midnight

As I wrap up the day

And sleep sits at the counter

Piling  up  the coins in the tray.

 

I  guess  it’s an old habit

Reckoning   profit  and  loss

The mind sifts through the heap

The subtle  and the gross.

 

It’s an hour before midnight

Time for drama in dreams

A heart   full of reactions

Bursting  at the seams.

 
11 Comments

Posted by on September 2, 2012 in Poetry

 

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Peephole view


I peeped in

Through the hole

And found

A lot of disarray.

 

Gaze within,

Without a sound

Appearances can

Deceive, I say.

 

 

 
4 Comments

Posted by on August 14, 2012 in Poetry

 

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Haiku


The heart has secrets

Trying to break the fetters

Exhausted , they sleep.

 

In the morning hour

I sit and sort out rancours

In two distinct heaps.

 

I’m in no hurry

I take my time to decide

What to throw and keep

 
10 Comments

Posted by on August 1, 2012 in Poetry

 

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