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Yesterday's Story

Occupational health hazard, the stiffness in neck, no matter in which direction I might be looking, certain nerves passing in vicinity take their revenge at their pace. Poetry is not just a matter of heart, mind constantly works and I make sure that the words are coming through.  The sun shines, rises and fall too and also when it gets eclipse, it speaks through my poetry. The human anatomy on the other hand remains unreachable and as my nerves gets strained, I try to step by step rotate my neck in all directions.

stillness--
on looking up the moon
in my window

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Moon and stars

moon again behind
the hills what
myth I build on my story


******

a star out of canvas
I am 
here with truth


*****

few stars in sky
and angles in and out 
can't locate more

******


only one more round
at moon hedge
full of jasmine