October Poems - As published on TUCK
The Sibling You Can’t Have Far away from where I stay, There is a place I hear, called Idlib Never been to. Never will. Not a country on any bucket list. A blood bath it could be, I heard them say, Last stronghold left to fall, in a country going back to where it came from Lives lost in between? Half a million or maybe more… Close to a thousand children a year wilted away A little closer to where I stay, There are some cages with foil blankets to spare Children snatched away,
Poems and introspections
I am still not at ease calling myself a poet, but I have discovered that 'free form' poetry is something I am relishing a lot. Freed from obligations of over or under writing, exposition vs. narration and other such, these come into my head as a line when I am dark or dismayed and germinate into full pieces. I will be ever grateful to poets Arundhati Subramaniam and Nirupama Dutt for exposing me to this wonderfully liberating form of writing at the Chandigarh Lit Fest 2015. H
