Monday, December 8, 2008

THEY...

They pour sand in my hair
and fill my shoes with stones
to make me heavy

like many I too grab
the grass and try to float
but my fingers slip

they refuse my pleas for
a rope or staff to help
me drift in current

they wish me to become
with facial epitaph
my own tomb


--R.K.SINGH

Friday, December 5, 2008

PETALS

Entwined
under the limbs'
petals

--R.K.SINGH