Now, those who thought I could write only sentimental, psychedelic, heart-broken, love-soaked, fueled-by-lonely-nights poems, might like to change their opinion after reading the three triolets that I have to offer today, clubbed aptly in the category of the good, the bad and the ugly. The Good Mummy, I will return. But let me leave now. […]

In the wind, I fly

The floating wind brushes the skin. The floating wind, it lies within. I shake and I shiver; feel it everywhere. I dream and I wonder. I float in the air. It feels perfect, could be a dream. The floating wind. In the wind, I gleam. The wind smiles, waves me a hi. The floating wind. […]