One last glance she would take.
The tears welled up in her eyes.

There were flakes of salt in eyes.
Her tears tasted salty to tongue.

And as she turned to look back
She was a pillar of common salt .

No one missed Mrs.Lot’s burial.
So precious was salt for a meat.

(Reading Lot’s Wife by Anna Akhmatova)


Sea storm

Now, there might be wind and rain.
Soon the fish would have a holiday

Like school children weighed down
By bags, heavy with old knowledge.

A storm goes crazy with knowledge
But fish in sea will be late sleepers

Below churning of sea’s knowledge.
For fish ,a curiosity is stormy death.

Fishermen boats shall have no fish
But only fear of storm in boat belly.

Dream plot

In weird dream way, we walk back
To where we began , end a middle.

To sort , we have to be back again
Start all over, on things at the  top

And between, find  bodies tumble
Only to make new stories of plots

With the most implausible climax
That has the wind breaking waves

In sea of dailiness, its sun burning
And dream’s creatures are bodies.


Pots hid paddy rice, in bottom shadow.
The pots suffered pain as they cracked.

They hid family’s ties of love and bond.
They also hid deaths in between them,

When a Big potter lovingly broke them.
The pots had some inexplicable cracks.

It may be village sun who warms earth
A little too much and cracks pots open.