fiction

I think of you, O great Dante Alighieri!: A poem

Did you discover your dolce stil nuovo was not in Latin but in Florentine. You had the courage to be unique, as different as a turtle dove among the pigeons. And nobody can conjecture who schooled you to be the genius that you were, achieving the title Of Il Sommo Poeta for posterity from your humble origins of Tuscan poetry, you also fraternised with the writings ofContinue reading “I think of you, O great Dante Alighieri!: A poem “

This toast to the vision of Mum and Dad!: A poem

I am able to see visions in solitude’s stare These blessings are misunderstood by many, though are gifts that are rare! Now I see a vision of my Mother out there The beauty of her making a circle in thin air And the ink of my blood of love spills in these lines They are of nectarine taste; ambrosial, sweeter than any wine! Mother’s wordsContinue reading “This toast to the vision of Mum and Dad!: A poem “

Sol Invictus; and the time between you and me my darling!: A poem

I have my divinity devolve to you and back again to me, like a game of passing the parcel between us! Must I reckon that a wondrous unpalatable eternity went on and out of the dimensions Like webs that form and must be acceptable Because sustenance became inexorable after the infiltration; and sin became indispensable! We are in an are not. Is it my dreamContinue reading “Sol Invictus; and the time between you and me my darling!: A poem “

Mother, will it ever play `Believe’?: A poem

Mother, looks like nothing’s gonna change! Everything’s gonna remain just the same! I sit hopelessly atop a mountain seeing a rabid civilisation eat up my vegetation! Where stands creation in this thankless gobbledegook? I never got the praise reserved for a magnificent chef or cook! I was just salivated at by crooks! I hear the song playing: `Let it be!’ Did I ever hear you tell me that, Mother? I take example from how you servedContinue reading “Mother, will it ever play `Believe’?: A poem “

Me, Virgo, Monte Cyril Rodrigues!: A poem

I was born on the 8th of September 1964; under the sign of Virgo, but I was actually premature, at six-and-a-half months, so if I had wombed for the entire gestation; I’d have been born a Scorpio-Sagittarius cuspian! I am neither averse to any of the three signs, I just wonder if Mercury still rules me, then! Because at the timeContinue reading “Me, Virgo, Monte Cyril Rodrigues!: A poem “

My Dad, my True Love, and me: A poem

What did I inherit from my Dad? Some people say I remind them of him! But as I look at myself in the mirror I see no similarity, maybe I just can’t tell! He was always a story of past remembrances of the story of Dad and son, repeated every time in the hallways of history, recountable raconteuring in silence There are no mythsContinue reading “My Dad, my True Love, and me: A poem “

The Great Gatsby: A poem

Going morally declinative can decrepit the structure of civilisation’s soul such that nothing embraces dignity in a degenerate edifice that man builds purely for acquisition and not for dignified presence. You can see that too much overambitious zeal can only cause obtuse evil to flourish while intelligent soulful righteousness can be rendered dysfunctional. It is not as if religious pulpits are a vestigeContinue reading “The Great Gatsby: A poem “

Should I linger, despite my reluctance?: A poem

Do you know, I was thinking of going away far from here, where I felt you took the halo off my grounds, off my crown! I was like a garden devoid of leaves and flowers, only hedgerows, reminding me of a rectangular maze with only blind alleys. I looked over my fences and saw the luxuriance of other gardens, butContinue reading “Should I linger, despite my reluctance?: A poem “

Is Porky the Pig welcome in La La Land!: A poem

I don’t care if they grow green beans on the Moon, in the future! Its scant atmosphere is no wafter up my rafter. They used it as the heraldry of love, intuition, Sophia’s wisdom. I didn’t care even to stare at the wolves getting lunatic pangs with blood on their teeth. I just like the pince nez on my nose, withoutContinue reading “Is Porky the Pig welcome in La La Land!: A poem “

All those seventies’ lyrics in time in Mumbai: A nostalgia

There was that old Persian bakery that Dad took me to in Bycullla, near my school; where they served bread pudding. And I remember that it (the restaurant) had the sweetest of smells – of creamy crusty rolls, like a patisserie. It also had a juke box! That was the only restaurant in Byculla, I knew of, that had a juke box! AndContinue reading “All those seventies’ lyrics in time in Mumbai: A nostalgia “