at night I look past my window / moon like a bruise hoisted on the shoulder of onlookers / as they draw their curtains

you don't recognise yourself, / everything is lost like a fish in Lethean space. / you have mistaken truth for love again

Here are a few things I learned in the one month we haven’t spoken

Imagine it’s raining cats and dogs The hilly river has let the hair loose

Tell me I am not a house without exits. Leave

When moon fades into dawn and when I pass away with it / Will you think of all that I was?

1 and 3/4 cups of sugar, 2 cups of i-love-you

It’s been so long since we last spoke that I don’t think I can talk to you without confessing something. There you were, standing before me

Wishing you a happy new year! / The coming year? No, years ahead—

When I come to you, I become a tree  Trees have roots 

Some label you a poet of love so true

This year, to observe 16 December, we have curated a list of four diverse yet fascinating poetry books for you to immerse yourself in.

My Bangla Sings out every morning One language Many songs

I fell asleep to the chatters of cicadas on a quiet summer night

A long stretch of time / passed in prison

Women and the earth have to tolerate a lot.  –Kaajal (1965)

Healthy water-bodies are sunk by envy-blind waste’s outburst  

I spent the last night with your lover 

My heart is an oligarch: A staunch, pot-bellied, knuckle-cracking middle-aged man lounging carelessly, lazily  in his sitting room with his limbs spread out on a settee

When Anne Carson said– All lovers believe they are inventing love, she was perhaps right