featured in the poetry forum September 7, 2015  :: 0 comments

Dry soil today
At least breathe, a little
Many days later it will rain
Those cemented seeds
Unable to burgeon
Will break
To come out.

Coming out
Springing shoots of life
Burned soil today is like:
Soldered weapon in the furnace
Of a blacksmith.
Eager to fill a life
Those dust particles
Sharpening the embryo
Of a seed.

Opportunity today
Expectation of a similar seed
I soak up an interest
A seed to live a life
Today, tomorrow
And unlimited.

editors note:

Nothing sedentary in the life of this seed. “Soak up an interest.” – mh clay

Solitary river

featured in the poetry forum July 11, 2015  :: 3 comments

Aesthetic hallucination
One mad station
For creation

Have I
Understood of life
Looking for the rooms
Adventure to the unknown
Beyond the horizon
My eyes are

That cloud
Of a void sky
Loitering free
Shapeless mind
Thinking and thinking
Never become

In the air
On the ground I walk
Experimenting with mystery
Collecting the fossils
From a solitary

editors note:
A 21st Century Siddhartha, living his path aloud; isolation, experimentation, aesthetic hallucination. (Another from Hem Raj on his page, post-earthquake in Nepal – check it out!) – mh clay


July 11, 2015  :: 0 comments

Visible motion
Of a vibrating earth
Unexpected disaster

In front it left
Tear-mark of pain.
Heritage into rubble
Pathetic cries of families
Where homes are debris
And the life is in transit
Waiting to be rescued.
Historical monuments
Ruined for the

Her disentangled fury,
Waiting and
Thinking to the ruins,
How to clear and
Set back again?


featured in the poetry forum January 19, 2015  :: 0 comments

A river
Inside the cliff,
I hear the waters
Far down: below.
Desiccated I walk
From your beauty,
And the charm
You have.

Somewhere else
Got you in my dream
Who is going to interpret?
What does it mean?

I am waiting,
To irrigate
A deserted: heart.
Listening –
The echoing cliff,
Semblance of you
To feel.

editors note:

What speaks from loss comes back with longing. Oh, thirsty heart! – mh

Night rider

featured in the poetry forum October 26, 2014  :: 0 comments

Of a desolate wind
Wandering an uninhabited
Point of espial, speak.
Tarried on a sanguine view
Many a nocturnal visit
Dream rapt, it left.
Restless motion
Of a thirsty ocean
A swing on a lonely night
Brings it to the point of stars.
Up above the hanging clouds,
Thrill smitten I wake
From my sleep.

editors note:

A dream stoker, sleep taker. Once awake, gone forever. – mh

A song of an obelisk

August 24, 2014  :: 0 comments

No one listen
A cuckoo here today,
So, sings for his own
And dies without

Magnet, are his songs
Dust of iron left out of reach
Pathetic echoes the winter
Memories of spring cherished.

Once it was a tree,
Not anymore today
Though, vanished memories
Of: myrtle stand.

Name of a penman
Below the pillar is seen.

Ghost house

featured in the poetry forum August 24, 2014  :: 0 comments

Passing through
The country
The sight of a
Worn out house
Missing to master
Who, is sinking
In the quicksand
Of material modish

Who will see?
A fallen slate
Leaking roof
And plastered
Moss, of: a wall.

editors note:

Material Man’s lasting legacy; something for the cockroaches to climb. – mh


featured in the poetry forum June 6, 2014  :: 0 comments

Vacant peer
Uncertain eye
Ingenious shelter
Sad tune it passes
The air.

Looses free its hand
Over the strings
A harp is played
Tender song of
Weeping willow.

editors note:

Nature’s music; the best to soothe the breast, sweet tears relieve, then rest. – mh


featured in the poetry forum April 3, 2014  :: 0 comments

Delicate hands
In which shape,
Modulate the canvas?
In what art dyed?
Colors eternal-

Every hiccup
To enlighten
Listless monastic soul
Painted walls reading-
The wheel of life
Spiritual hunger

From the kitchen
Teasing to the nose
Assurance of a
Strong appetite

editors note:

Appetite, yes! I’ll bet the first cave art was painted after barbecue… and a belch. – mh

Dweller of the cloud

featured in the poetry forum January 27, 2014  :: 0 comments

Pain escapes
In tears his ink
So light he treads
On air.

World he sees
Never exists, though
Same earth he lives
With celestial integrity
Light wave he travels – imagination

Abnormal he acts, wings never seen
Still so high but,
Attached to the ground:
His imbued humanity.

What enigma
You carry, Oh! Poet
Cloud is a home you live
Mysterious droplets
Of life you collect

editors note:

This is no 21st Century techno-medicine show snake oil, guaranteed to cure what ails you through keeping you perpetually plugged-in. This is the pure stuff; drink this and be ruined for anything else. – mh