I saw a pigeon;
I heard a ' bang!'.
There was no bird.

I saw a plaice;
I heard a 'splash!'.
There was no fish.

I saw a tree;
I heard a 'han!'.
There was no forest.

I saw a house;
I heard a 'boom!'.
There was no shelter.

I saw a Man;
I heard a "nothing!."
There was no being.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song.

Of great heart-ed generous folks like you
No poem has a second draft,
Till someone points out with intentions true

Yes I give due credit too.

That I am really not adept,
At the finesse of writing,
Imaginary and metaphorical poetry,
Is known to me

Why can't we call a spade,
a spade?
It’s bothering me.
Why should I say moon,
When I mean your face
And
Why should I condemn you,
Just to field a gloomy face.

Do tell me….

I commenced composing poems,
As early as eight years
When my first poem

The Truant,

Composed in a class,
Was taken away by my Principal

It was about an incident,
When schools kids went a riot....

I don't remember what I wrote
But ever since I have composed
Poetry of my own
And
as you must have noticed
No two poems of mine are alike,
They neither rhyme nor chime
But so many friends,
I can now claim as mine.

This too is hardly a piece
Yet I know you may like it.