
I was leaning
by the window
standing outside
looking in—
a screen of cobwebs
in between
trapping memories
beaten thin
scantily clad
in make believe,
they shuddered fitfully;
shrouded transparencies
drenched in solemn tears,
entreating release.
©Neetu Malik
First published in The Poetic Bond VI Anthology, Willowdown Press, UK.
I see you will haggle over your wares
sell them to me for the price I ask
I know you have many gods
little and large, in stock
Shall we dip our brush
in the deep blue dusk
so we may paint joy
we stole from
the passing day
before it grows dark?
all I hear is this song…
carried to my ears upon waves
as they ebb and return
a symphony of love
played on instruments
of the heart—
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