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Snowflakes on a warm day  when the gods are in the fray  There are secrets in the inlay  Come September and May  We have always been dragons  How creation runs and begins  There’re miracles in Joseph’s stamen   Jacob’s faith through thick and thin  This lineage may seem irrevocably broken  But there’s always reincarnation  They triedContinue reading “My Dad and me: A poem “

These paths of history, these ghats of mystery  These difficult furlongs where a story belongs  These lockets of secrets whistling like crickets  through ages like passages of oft-repeated adages  The violence of time’s language we cannot assuage  The flattening defeat caused by penumbra of deceit  These stones of undeserved death as cruel as debt  TheContinue reading “What James had for Sarah: A poem “

Does a tree have a soul?  Do its silent unseen eyes roll?  At the street’s corner, dusk in its age  mellowed by time, or does it feel rage?  Its numerous leaves feeling undone  having lost their rights, for the city has won  In the ballad of seasons, it is still patience’s bride  Can it feelContinue reading “Ask a street-side tree…: A poem “

These hundred pages I’ve written without your name  These mellifluous words, all seem so lost and tame  It feels like a headwind on a slow-moving aeroplane  The rowboat has strong oars, but no robust coxswain  I feel like a face in a multitude with a proclivity to debase  I can indulge in pure leisure, butContinue reading “I didn’t answer when you called: A poem “

Billboards are reaching out to you in the dark  What’s on offer seems like a picnic in the park  The glamour stars have so much spunk and spark  Impulse overlaps instinct like a scar over birthmark  This is wine for virgin innocence, tied and entwined  The acids of indigestion don’t bother your mind  Holy isContinue reading “Veins filled with starch: A poem “

This age is but outage   of morality’s outspoken sage  But I will not flip my page  I’ll make courage my outright gauge  I am not party to wokes  Therefore, a picnic for jokes  Let nobody prick my calm  Noone can twist my arm  I don’t bleed for abortion rights  I am conservative, black andContinue reading “No woke am I: A poem “

(Yakov was the sobriquet of James the Just, who was stoned to death by the evil liar Saint Paul)  It killed him. Those stones  and Paul’s evil bones  The stairs of the temple  seemed like carbuncle  when he was flung and broke a leg  His tears sank like dregs  Messiah erased by the Church  FalsehoodsContinue reading “Yakov: A poem “