AUTUMN IN A MINOR KEY** It’s a lonely march to winter Lamentations rend the air for lives lost too soon like leaves prematurely drummed out by the rains. The river flows like an old man lost in his solitude shuffling to the unbroken rhythm in minor key that aches for an ending. Emptied spaces stretchContinue reading “YET ANOTHER AUTUMN POEM ACHING FOR A TITLE”

LATE NOVEMBER (WPC: It’s Not This Time of Year Without)

The sun retires at 4 o’clock in this part of the world up north The branches, shorn of leaves, sport some snow for a new winter coat Forgotten apples, still crisp, shiver in the November sky And those who neither reap nor sow can feast just like you and I. At six o’clock it stillContinue reading “LATE NOVEMBER (WPC: It’s Not This Time of Year Without)”


Toys sit in the bins in disarray, moldy and sad the hands that caressed them are never around the mind that send them to wondrous tours no longer turned nor propelled their gears The tracks have been broken there are no more tickets to neverland Toys and child have reached that most dreaded time –Continue reading “LITTLE RED CABOOSE (WPC: Tiny)”


This fall, our backyard brought us a wonderful surprise: mushrooms! In the previous years, we only had about a few mushrooms. But this year, they were literally covering a good chunk of our backyard. They grew in clusters, and sometimes, one on top of another and another.  Here I thought that they grew like umbrellasContinue reading “MUSHROOM INVASION (for WPC: Chaos)”

ODE TO A DEAD POND (WPC: Transmogrify)

Once swans glided on your surface while watchful clouds hovered above Canadian Geese honked their presence squirrels skittered in the nearby grove Your benches hosted lovers’ trysts and gave solace to distraught souls on the shore, gulls gobbled the feast – breadcrumbs kids tore from moldy loaves. In deep winter your frozen pond held childrenContinue reading “ODE TO A DEAD POND (WPC: Transmogrify)”


When only autumn daisies bloom and the air reeks of rotting fungi when all the leaves there are are on the ground and beauty is hard to find when all the world is wrapped in frost and there’s no warmth to have when all the breeze bears is a sombre dirge when all comfort hasContinue reading “DOWN TO BASICS”

THE LOVERS (A Quadrille)

The lovers floated in the clouds oblivious of the breeze that could make mallards shiver or of the slanting sun that made the leaves burn yellow and crimson. They were wrapped in a cocoon of each other’s arms making the public pond their own. For: DVerse Poets’ Quadrille #18: Cloud We spent a good partContinue reading “THE LOVERS (A Quadrille)”