This bonded fear bids for power,
Will I destroy myself in valley of puppets?
War in dreams,
of sins and morals of masked pretentions
wears me off. Time rolls violently
near the periphery, before it flies away.
One chaste run to the shadow of sorrow
burns you alive. Sitting on a heap of sandlewood
you turn into ashes, the sweet aroma
drifting between its rights and wrongs,
evasions and commitments,
hunting for the truth.
Great exodus of principles in green
martyrdom, brings out the blood from the color
of terracotta. The figures on the walls
start talking in falling light, de-icing
the sun, like the dust on this side of dark.
The violence rises again.
From the author of Jupiter Remembered and Until It’s Time: Embracing Life In Our Later Years comes Petals of Love: Poetry of a Woman’s Soul – a heartfelt collection spanning more than thirty-five years. Through tender reflections, these poems offer g
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
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