Writing/ Reading/ Updates

I don’t know who needs to read this now but when I read it last week, it helped me get through my day. Sherry has written a beautiful, truth poem that I think you will love too. Read it here.

Meanwhile, am sure you have your own views on all those Roald Dahl rewrites. Didn’t this happen with Enid Blyton’s books too a few years ago? Where does one cross the line into censorship and who decides what is suitable or not are serious questions. As a writer, and there are so many of you here, would you want your work to be modified by others to make it “appropriate”?

I hope you’ve been reading my series ‘ A story in many unequal parts, some missing’. If not, its all here, so scroll to the bottom and start with Part 1. And if you wish to read my new chapbook, ‘Till The End Of June’, write to get your PDF copy, details are here. If you have read it, I’d love to hear your feedback. So do email or leave a note.

The new chapbook: Till The End Of June

strange, the way you say goodbye

as if the quiet that follows
is a comma

even though
there is nothing
left to say

Sharing a cherita from my new chapbook, ‘Till The End Of June‘.
As I’ve done before, my chapbooks are free to read and I send out PDF copies on request. If you wish to read it, send an email to suspension.point@yahoo.com

More about it here including feedback from some early readers.

New Chapbook: Till The End Of June

So, you might remember, I wrote a poem everyday in June and have been trying ever since to pull all the posts together into a meaningful chapbook. It has taken this long, but despite conspiracies by life, the universe and everything, here it is, finally, done, just as the year burns out. My new little compilation is called ‘Till The End Of June‘.

If you’d like to read it, drop an email to suspension.point@yahoo.com for your free PDF copy. It’s ready to be sent out!

Hope you enjoy reading it over the new year. I will look forward to your feedback!

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 Lulu.com 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 suspension.point@yahoo.com)

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 suspension.point@yahoo.com 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 suspension.point@yahoo.com