No Real Choice


She said:
Life sentence
To live in this world
With possibilities of hope


Pick death
No parole
A slave to despair
Trying to lengthen out the night
Somnambulant days
Sleep addict

I then made my choice
Realization dawned later
She told me two fibs

For dVerse

(The poem consists of two fibonaccis [fibs] and a senryu. Writing this poem got me thinking…. To play or not to play by the rules of this world is the only real choice we have in life. true freedom comes with not playing this worldly game of attachment. Easy to say, hard to do. In all other matters, we have the illusion of choice because we are ignorant of the outcomes of our actions.)

The Cricket’s Song

People playing possum in their prisons
Woken up by the warden smoking rings
Smoke signals to the saint seeking visions
And a full three pair of those angel wings
Just trying to change her world view
The cricket sings a song so blue

Thinking twice of all those rose tinted times
Old folk leave for their retirement homes
While the muses are singing in loud rhymes
Their tunes bringing life to the catacombs
Asking listeners to pay their due
The cricket sings a song so blue

Osiris is being pulled all apart
Crying out to the night sky for the sun
Then after the sandstorm comes his sweetheart
But she’s just here looking to have some fun
Up above the sky changes hue
The cricket sings a song so blue

Most times now there seems no sense in trying
Disillusioned by the Emperor’s clothes
Little boys carrying guns and crying
The world’s on fire and there ain’t no hose
Humanity’s posthumous bad review
The cricket sings a song so blue

A Medieval Moon

A stray beam of moonlight
Blesses the dark rivers
Yin and yang in the sky
Opposites meet this night

Who is the moon tonight?
A great king from the past?
A Confucian scholar?
No,  that doesn’t seem right

She is a peasant’s moon
Divided red and white
A common wooden flute
Plays a bitter sweet tune

She looks down on the land
Where men and women sleep
After hard day’s labour
This moon can understand

Simple joys and sorrows
Subject to the seasons
Vagaries of nature
Whose forces they borrow

The need to flood their farms
Paddy fields hide cobras
Rice/venom together
A careless step can harm

Dancing with the harvest
Celebrating for days
Or crying with famine
When life seems its darkest

A peasant’s moon shines down
Reflected by water
Light sucked in by the earth
Tonight she wears a twig crown

(I started the first two verses and then got carried away, forgetting all about my planned rhyme scheme. It was supposed to be AABBCCDD where each letter is the rhyme for that stanza)

Hunt for the Tusker

We once went to this place
To shoot a tusker
With a Canon DSLR
A wild game of chase

We were young fools back then
Unafraid of death
In the best of health
Rushing about,  no matter when

The locals warned us
Shouting ‘Aaney’: elephant
But we were arrogant
And Ignored all the fuss

We first saw a mongoose
There wherever there are snakes
As we walked by lakes
A leopard was loose

We saw it for a second
Gone before we could focus
Disappeared,  hocus pocus
A magic cat, we reckoned

We then climbed a small hill
An hour from the closest village
On our quest for that one image
But we couldn’t find it still

A king cobra dived into the bushes
As we blazed a trail through the trees
Our GPS put our minds at ease
Four satellites found after some button pushes

We followed a path of destruction
Trees uprooted by a mad giant
Of the danger we were defiant
Scaling over rocky obstruction

Geckos as long as my arm
Lay basking in the sun
We were having fun
Entranced by the forest’s charm

We followed a trail of dung
One day old we could tell
A sign of our lone rebel
A broken branch nearby hung

Scratch marks on the bark
Something that animals do
We investigated the area, us two
But we had to leave before it turned dark

The lapwings finally stopped their warnings
As we walked to the forest’s outskirts
We had a few bruises and hurts
And soreness from all of that walking

Perhaps an angel protected us there
For two weeks later the tusker killed
Some city kids like us,  who went there for thrills
Fools like us who had no fear

(Rest in peace)

Image: photo taken by me during this excursion. That elephant corridor line in that other poem I wrote brought back this memory. It is hard to see elephants when they stand still among the trees and the forest is quite thick. There was another incident later on, when I spotted an elephant on a coffee plantation. I ran the hell out of there as fast as my legs could carry me. I had learned my lesson.

Here’s a mother elephant and cub I photographed from the highway. They are much smaller than tuskers and less aggressive. They live in herds, unlike the tusker that eluded us. There’s a third elephant in the picture. Can you spot it?)


Ruins of a  great empire
Stretch forth beyond the horizon
Strewn stones sing hymns like a choir
To Pampa, praying for redemption
A chance to stand tall once again
To be a center of pilgrimage
To be filled with women and men
Not just a sight of heritage
Here where a god and goddess met
On the banks of the Tungabhadra
I watch the pretty orange sunset
In the old empire of Vijayanagara

(Tungabhadra- a river
Hampi was once the second largest city in the medieval world.  It was  pillaged and destroyed during a war. After a mere few hundred years it lay forgotten. )

Image: Vitalla temple in Hampi


Watching the sunset by candlelight.
The sight brings brief respite.
The flame smells of:
rose, sandalwood and death.
Darkness shrouds the sky.

The Green is on fire.
The Earth sings a dirge.
Leaves burn in their millions.
Wax drips into molten pools
on the polkadot tablecloth.

Forest officials gather around
with plans to extinguish the inferno.
Some talk about ‘back burning,’
but most want to bring in helicopters.
Better safe than sorry

Dark water falls under the moonlit sky.
I breathe in the steam
It tastes of ashes, plastic (and fish?)
The animals have all run away,
down the elephant corridor.

For dVerse

(I reworked an old poem. The first two verses are almost identical. I hope that isn’t cheating)

1. The Red Herring

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, introducing to you a world of steam and magic, gods and men, carpets and Cleopatras, dwarf kings and ogres who are conscientious objectors, murder and mystery, psychedelic psychology, I give you *drumroll please* Imli.

In the first story, (written by yours truly) witness how Mother Sari solves a murder mystery that even the great detective Warlock Holmes couldn’t. If you’re in the mood for some puns and comic shenanigans then head on over and have a good laugh 😃

P.S. We’re looking for more writers to join us in exploring this new realm. If you’re interested, then let me know in the comments or through the contact form and I will invite you.

Tales of Imli

And so we begin our journey… Impenetrable darkness, where only the blind can truly see. Here in the deepest depths, massive creatures swim past schools of fish, feeding upon the corpses of the old gods, the only sources of light. They ingest their divinity. As they transcend their flesh, they evolve into beings that prey on shadows. Leviathans, losers in their war against the Deep Abyss, move upwards, to new climes and diets. A primordial roar announces their arrival to a world that has long since forgotten their existence.

We travel past the ocean and into a river, swimming against the current. Gone are the slow movements of the creatures in the depths. The scene now moves at a frantic pace. Carp swim against the waterfalls trying to leap over dragon gates, bears wade through the shallows as river sprites dance on the banks, herons mock the lowly land dwellers…

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My Mind’s Eye

They say that one’s mind, body and soul must be kept in balance. I could never achieve this. Myriad beings live in my mind: maladies hatched in gloom. The doctors don’t know everything, especially when it comes to the human mind. My imagination runs amok despite all their efforts.

A skeleton dances on the river of despair, luring me into the rapids. Deep in the ocean of sleep a leviathan lazily glances upwards, looking to wreck my ship. On the cliff of catastrophe, ravens chase me to the edge.

Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings, an oracle intoxicated by the fumes coming from below. The lyrics of her songs are terrifying. There’s madness in the chorus. Sometimes she sings of the future, but she often sings songs that contain strange mysteries, nonsense rhymes resonating with my subconscious mind.

For dVerse

Elden Ring

Dying again in the game
This is the tenth time today
There’s no insurance to claim
I’ve got more monsters to slay

There’s Margit the Fell Omen
Then Godrick in the castle
It’s hard since I’m a bowman
This world is such a hassle

The Red Wolf wants to fight me
The Lord of Blasphemy too
A new weapon is the key
A + 9 didgeridoo

I’ve died fifty times so far
A strange woman gives me a hug
This land is just so bizarre
I can die to a little bug

Overpowered spells wreak death
To monsters of this new world
I chant, frantic with each breath
Again I’m hurled to the underworld

Will I ever get the Elden Ring
The Maiden seems to think I will
This time I use a +10 sling
But I end up dying still

In this game there’s a fine balance
Every map filled with content
Though I keep failing the challenge
The god of death does not relent

In Elden Ring there’s a lesson
Time and failure are related:
Inverse; my deaths now lessen
It’s not hopeless, I’m elated

Always a way out of despair
Optimism is what’s needed
Perhaps even better healthcare
When the way forward seems impeded

Can I apply this to my life?
Easy to say and hard to do
When my head feels so filled with strife
I think that time will see me through