I love the colour of my skin,
Au naturel suave evergreen.
From head to toe, and deep within,
Each part of me, feels so serene.
Even the bristles, on my chin,
Tonsured daily, smooth shaven clean.
The only difference, with my twin,
While I am green, he's tangerine.
Hereditary, our kith and kin,
Diverse within the human gene.
8 / 13 / 2025.
The king had a vision of his own death,
Sent his officer to bring a pink wreath;
He tonsured his head,
Got the body clad
And killed his officer in the same breath.
Solitude
I grapple with patches of sun
On the shady soil under the tree
Filtered through the leaves
And the blue stars in night sky
For some lofty words.
As when do I propose my love,
I don’t want them sound begging.
I have nothing,
Except the tyranny of seasons.
No strife
No battle
Only battle of keeping my progeny alive
In the midst of
Tonsured hills
Strangulated rivers
Choked air and
Desert- soil
By unscrupulous hands.
Only asset to vote
To mandate tiny group of people
With Zed category of security
And absolute surety
Of natural and national resources
I shall lend my eyes
For your tears to roll out
I am more than willing to offer
The regime of my solitude
And bounty of creation
For you to rejoice.
Wrapped in six yards of white muslin,
banished from her home with a tonsured head,
she faces a curse of loss of colours
ever since her husband was brought in dead.
Mummified for life she still exists
breathing, eating bland food, all desires unfed
Bare feet, she lays herself to sleep
curling up pillowless, on a cold wooden bed
But when she sleeps she often dreams
of butterflies and blossoms in purple and red.
Sky ,like a starry sheet where some shoot and others dont,
Sea, dark with small waves breaking on island sand,
Ship, large and swift with wooden beams creaking.
Flag, aloft looking for the wind to furl and display,
Rum, that dark banana liguid tasting so good,
Yo, Ho ho, we sing when drunk ,
we dont live like tonsured monk.
A life at sea neath a starry sky,
no one to mourn when we die.
Yo ho ho furl the sails and go.
© Andrew McIntyre 13/02/2015.
Night was descending
on the tonsured heads,
terracotta robes,
clasping the palms, hiding the seeds
of earth.
Against a ban on lips
for belonging truly.
Blissful. The squids settle in the weeds
of overbrimming sea of arms.
Blood was red, brown and pale.
oozing from the slit eyes,
soaking the green voices, herbs and sad kisses.
In the death, your name will be engraved on your shoes.
The steps were small
but shadows were very long on the ice.
The stings unflawed, did their job.
Suddenly you go
in anaphylactic shock.
SATISH VERMA
Night was descending
on the tonsured heads,
terracotta robes,
clasping the palms, hiding the seeds
of earth.
Against a ban on lips
for belonging truly.
Blissful. The squids settle in the weeds
of overbrimming sea of arms.
Blood was red, brown and pale.
oozing from the slit eyes,
soaking the green voices, herbs and sad kisses.
In the death, your name will be engraved on your shoes.
The steps were small
but shadows were very long on the ice.
The stings unflawed, did their job.
Suddenly you go
in anaphylactic shock.
SATISH VERMA
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