Like a horizon

Haiku is, perhaps, the most difficult form to ‘get right’! While its modern avatar has rebelled against almost all the original rules, it tries to retain the essence and be both simple and intense, brief and expansive, complete and still leave the reader imagining more.
These are three haiku from a little chapbook called “On the Rough Road” that I put together a few years ago. The haiku were written in response to prompts from Basho’s travelogue, Oku no hosimichi (that roughly translates to “The narrow road to the deep north”), offered on a haiku group called Carpe Diem Haiku Kai. To read the chapbook, just follow the instructions here.

slowly, softly
slides out of this morning

mourning —
the way the sky
brushes a broken wing

like a horizon
splitting two worlds —

And four new ones inspired by the onset of the monsoon….
a different world
a different rain
still this hesitation

another rainy night
another moonless sky
one could get used to this

she runs faster
as if there is still a chance…
who can stop the June rain?

leaves and branches
petals strewn on wet asphalt
last night wasn’t gentle

On the Rough Road

On the Rough Road is a collection of haiku that I first put together in 2016 following a series of prompts on ‘Carpe Diem Haiku Kai’ based on Matsuo Basho’s ‘Oku no hosimichi’ (Narrow road to the Deep North)

Recently, I redesigned and edited the chapbook and though it seemed to take forever, it was a nostalgic walk through old haiku and haibun I had written, giving me fresh insight into my state of mind and writing style, then – and now.

Over the years, I’ve surely learnt a thing or two, but also lost something. I don’t entirely know what that is, but I believe some of my best haiku are in this little chapbook. For more details, check this link.

I chose one haiku to leave here today:

here, finally

i open my book of regrets

to the rain

Hello, it’s 2021!

Why does it seem like more has happened in 11 days of this year than in 12 months of 2020? Sigh.

Am grateful to all those who have been reading and responding to my chapbook “The night is my mirror”. It has given me the momentum I need for a couple of new projects this year. A book, perhaps, and an anthology, maybe. Fingers crossed!

Meanwhile, I read this beautiful collection by Susan Chast. I posted a review on Instagram (@tp_poetry), but here it is again for those who don’t do the ‘gram. The book is available on and I totally recommend you grab a copy.

Grieving into love: Friend, Family, Neighbour – poetry by Susan Chast

An ode to grief, a handbook of acceptance and healing, a heartfelt record of love for self and family and community, this collection is a cathartic expression of the medley of emotions that comes with loss. Susan both enthrals and educates with standout lines like these that will forever become part of your everyday lexicon:

“But birds,birds! I’ve opened the window/ and thrown out the dead. Now you must leave, too./ I’m cleaning out the nest, longing to fly.” -Trying to move, but birds are in the way
“Last time it rained, I stood arm in/ arm with a white pine to feel drops/ glide on skin, to drink with my fingers.” – Becoming a weather Vane
“…Nothing is fuller than this moment/ of life caught in the lens of emergency.” – The metaphysics of family emergency
“Timber. Timber. O!/ Call loud for the fallen whose/ roots still feed the earth” – Timber
“Judas moaned. Ah, rope. Was I ever in control?/ Who profited when I took money for my soul?” – A very good deal, maybe
“So, friend, let’s talk about making Black Lives/ Matter while we walk six safe feet apart.” – I am white

Wish you a year of fruitful reading and writing. Stay safe, while virus vs vaccine plays out!  

New chapbook: The night is my mirror

from then to now
is never the same distance as
from now to then

From my new chapbook: “The night is my mirror”.

Through the lockdown and the near-isolation, words were hard to find, but this came together in the last few weeks and I am delighted to close the year with relief, gratitude and hope.

I think the poems are real and personal and have been churned out by the silence, unease and reluctant acceptance that was 2020. If you’d like to read the chapbook, do give me a shout and your email information.  and I will send you a copy.  (leave it in the comments section or write to

Happy holidays and a very happy new year.


This micropoem was selected by a reader from Ireland, Jane Carson,  who reimagined it and posted it on instagram with a beautiful soft background. I love how poems resonate differently with readers and grow bigger than the poet’s imagination. The original melancholy has somehow morphed into a kind of optimism. 

The night is my mirror

A little chapbook to end a year that has been challenging in so many ways. This collection of poems came from the long months of lockdown and silence. The poems are personal and were hard to write. I hope you can connect with them in your own way.

Write to for your free PDF copy.

Warm wishes for a better, hopeful, safe and healthy 2021.

On not belonging

In the semantics between bird
and sky,
what is cloud?

In the adhesion between word
and poem,
what is empty space?

I can feel, still, your fingers on
my face, pushing back my hair, eyes
glazed by impossible tomorrows —

In the shadow between time
and place,
what is truth?

In the paradox between illusion
and skin,
what is love,
what isn’t,
what matters?


Sharing this poem from my chapbook On Turning Fifty that I released earlier this year. If you haven’t had a chance to read it yet, the pdf is available free through my blog. Check here for details.

On turning fifty

Have you noticed how conversations on aging, mortality and their peripheral existential conundrums elicit the most incongruous responses? In the last month, I’ve heard how age is just a number, how 50 is the new 30, how I now have the ‘wisdom’ I always wanted, how grey is the new black, how the time is now ripe to ‘pursue my passion’ and how growing old is liberating, especially for a woman! I hoped my reaction to such collective enthusiasm would be nuanced – ranging from an eye roll to a shrug – instead, of course, I found new variations between animated defence and argumentative disgust. Not quite in the ‘wisdom I always wanted’ category, clearly! Truth is, everyone marks a milestone in their own way. There’s always something to celebrate, much to ponder, perhaps to regret, even to silently fear. Some find equanimity and grace, some find wild abandon, some find courage, some find love, some walk away, some find excuses, some discover new challenges to overcome – some write poems.

the more I learn
the more I know
about things I will never know

I am writing a set of 10 poems on turning 50 that I will be ready to send out pretty soon. They won’t be posted on this blog but if you’d like me to send you a copy of the PDF, write to me at