This poem is dedicated to the memory of the unfortunate Delhi gangrape victim. May she find peace

The mutilated Self

Her veiled heart,

Lost in the world of lust.

Drifting among the soulless soul,

Shrouded in shame and disgrace.

Seized of her dignity,

Ravaging her mind, her body..

A mutilated sense of self.

Wounded and broken She lies

Screaming into the silence;

Slithering for justice.

Calm she never found.

Yet why??

The torment she waged ?

The demons faced?

Inexorably sapping the life out of her

Till she is nothing but a shadow of remains.

Now,

She lies in rest, mingling with the ashes

Her soul remains seeking out her revenge.

A flame of Red Rose

A flame of rose, Red rose.
Yielding, exploring passions,
Scalding, burning, warming..
Hearts everywhere.
Yet a prick, another sharp prick
A cherry atop a fork.

The flame surrounds you.
Wash you down as its,
Sweet scented breath engulfs you.
A rose tinted world- Rosy eyed vision.
Red love, Red desires, Red passions..
Red.
Snaring, gnawing at the senses.
A blind mind, a blind heart.

Then a raw rosy wound.
A hurt in the heart.
Consuming pain and anguish.
Descending of a
Red of black darkness.


A flame so strong?
Or
An emotion so weak?

Love.
The flaming emotion.
A red of heart. Blood red
Creeps on to us…
To be tamed, to be detained.
Yet it wants to be nourished.
To be treasured, to be unspoiled.
Not to be kept and castoff
As a flaring of senses, of lust and mind.

As Love
A grasp of heart,
A soft flowing warm red.
Caressing, cajoling and nurturing.
An emotion soaked in happiness and pain.
A Red rose with a shrill spike.