A ghostwriter pensive
On the night shift
Traces a self-portrait
On burdened skies,
Under drooping stars
An artist’s dilemma
To tell one’s own story
Or script for others!
Livelihood
Refugees
The morning air felt still
As if it carries the weight
Of another magenta night
Men crossing borders restless
Leaving behind the city lights
And little packets of memories
Strewn across echoing hallways
Holding scraps close to the chest
Passports, IDs, cards, and such
For what else are we but barcodes
In this unruly, ravaged world!
Hues
A touch of paradise
In the fool’s gallery
Pastels on canvas
Dreams in vivid color;
The wise one knows
Only the sepia hues
Of ash and dust
Life in monochromes
Spring Equinox
Inhale the fragrance
Of spring in abundance
An extravaganza of blooms
Poppies, tulips, and lilies
Invading coarse sidewalks
Boughs are laden with
The promise of fruits
Casting spells of hope
On a talisman of petals
Gently pulsating with life
Edges
On the edges, jagged
Of a broken mirror
In reflected multi-facets
I can now see
How a little breaking
Reveals more of what’s
Hidden in me!
Blue Pen Strokes 