Thursday, April 17, 2014


I got a name for ‘Who are you’?
Echoing my contours
MUCH before I learnt to see and hear

Now melanin sheaths
Wane and wax to morph
with choices, chances and discretion

Rippled views tune
broken phrases and unsung songs
as I wipe brushstrokes
of rainbow stars
in a rendezvous with the blood moon

The breeze soaks my parched dreams
cooling the pouches of tear streaks
proliferating accepted perceptions

What more could become of me?
What more could be unbecoming of me?

My catharsis
criss-crossing my palms
tickles to the touch of grass
rustles apprehensive to a dewdrop

Inconclusive, it continues - the journey
For a tint of grey for my hair, unseen
crinkle a bit of my skin - vestiges of memories
tingle the tear glands
to swallow a breath

Ambling to cuckoo calls and tweets
on cracked heels
I tick time till time ticks on me
Finding SELF
Till the soil finds me

So very meandering like me...

MeetingTheBar: Self Portraits


  1. finding self til the soil finds me... it is a journey..isn't it... the rendevous with the blood moon...i like.. and do sing those unsung songs... we all should...

  2. The journey to find ourselves is never ending with our all our choices ~ I like this line: I tick time till time ticks on me ~ Good to see you Akila ~


  3. life is a constant finding of ourselves until the soil finds us...and we can do no more to stop time than we can pluck a star from the heavens...i like the wiping of the brushstrokes as well....

  4. it's so important to find Self in the journey....choices, discretion have their roles and
    chances too play their part...thoughtful lines...

  5. meandering... we see so much more than those with blinders to a destination

  6. Akila, this is just beautiful. And in that journey of self we do meander and it's all good.


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