Prose poem — silvery dampness of periwinkle purple clouds waving to windows of flying aeroplane, moments melting in the fist of time, moon emerging at bough of darkness, lost in meditation breathing light, moon a soliloquy uttered by cosmos, a convergence of colours centred in a corm, illuminating and withering in boundaries of…

Prose poem — Stars’ fairy incandescence waiting for darkness to unwind— the longest day of the year approaching — estival solstice in arctic circle of the world — the season’s flavour caramelized to summer before spring could wholly gratify — langour of sienna, sepia, earthy browns seeps through my spirits — my light…

A prose poem — Morning’s flush frothing on wings of butterflies, moments smeared with luminosity in swelling densities of Sun’s metallic yellow — tearing open grey violet of sky — occasional trill of cicadas enthrall the abundance — rays reflecting fiery colour images — while scented shadows gnaw paths of light the artistes in…

Nature’s Abundance — Subdued starlight vaporising above twisted banyan limbs, tousled tamarind boughs — a calm breeze permeates the tangerine spray of spring season in the bushes — punctuated by fireflies hours ago — notes of cicadas blown out — birds ushering into dawn chorus — cool beads sneaked in blades of grass…

A prose-poem — A lonely olive-skinned lass in grey brown guise foraging among a thick coppice of pines — nubile, agile, arrested in a quest — spotted by brown-eyed lad with spectacular rosy cape, a romancing spree after some trickling — his sweet lustful song, fluty interlude following luscious twitter prelude — intense…

micro-poetry — Reflecting on love unmindful of rot with prismatic clarity to merge in peridot lotus unfurl in time for abundance to float. Era Garg March 2022 “The meaning of life is to find your gift The purpose of life is to give it away.” — William Shakespeare “When your mind and…

A prose poem — To attend a funeral ceremony for a deceased acquaintance, I sit among a herd of saree-clad women gracefully pulling loose end of the attire over head to envelope ears; lips and eyes with dignified elegance, pervading the floor clothed in red and blue dhurrie, now and then caressing their kids…

Lamenting the Lost Home The blue stairs of my home in mountains sparkling with fresh snowflakes falling, inhaling the essence in blue light of dawns seasons blossoming in lakeside wooded vistas, senses ravaged by abstract prying howls, dark blood ripples in old, stale wounds, heart screams for the lost homeland, in a surreal blink my being…