Passiflora wings..

on most days I feel more like a failure,

My flamboyant, gaudy,  celestial feathers, 

now bleached and dusty,

under the pallid twilight of the waning ivory crescent..

I feel like freezing time into shimmering little crystallized pearls, 

putting it in a green glass bottle,

 and offering it to the ocean currents to decide its fate,

 just like it decides all of ours.. 

on other days I feel like ceasing the thawing breeze, 

Zooming it for hours till I find the loom of transparent threads it’s moulded of, 

 carrying the sweetest secret and buried whispers from the places it has travelled through.. 

how surreal this notion seems,

 to think that the wind’s composed of invisible strings,

 hemmed by the star scented seraphs and fairies,  

with the powers of blowing off all our worries,

on such days I wonder what lies beyond the dank blanket of million stars named the ‘sky’..

May be if it singed into ashes just like the crumbled pages addressed to  hearth, it will open the doors to nothingness too, 

a damp void of powered wishes aimed at the shooting stars, 

Maybe this void will consume my failing efforts too, 

And maybe it’ll get me a new pair of vivid mauve wings lined with passiflora tendrils,

 and laced with new hopes stitched in rosalind designs too, 

Maybe it’ll weave it’s sky together again,

And let me take my flight too.’


©A. Kamal.. ‘

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‘a red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground,  with no one around to tweet it.’                ~the lakes(ts)

the cell phone beeped with a tumultuous wave of notifications,

to apprise people of the newfangled quarts of cynical, 

obligated acknowledgements,

a surplus of honeyed compliments and likes on their newly posted pictures, 

a dissection of the pictures to mark their lacks and a casino of demeaning selves. 

I’m not cut out for all these cynical clones,

these hunters with cell phones.’

and the blinking dull screen seizing peace, 

a sleazing conduit of sly hurtles, 

houses teeming with seething people hooked to their cell screen..

While books on shelves continue to rust,  

burrowed under mammoth eulogies,

the prose of the wise under dust, 

while the fools on the screens continue to reign..

‘take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die,

I don’t belong..’



©A. Kamal.. 

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Crypt (II)

The pallid, nacreous twilight peered through the murky, dank tenebrosity,

 A darkness that hooded the incandescent glint,

that once flecked  my effulgent, hopeful eyes,  

  Now my ears are deaf to the knocks of joy, 

And my eyes blind to the luminosity,

 that shelters ebullience in it’s lap,

And my crypt my dear, 

Sinks deeper and deeper  down in the ocean of obscurity.. 

©A. Kamal..

This is part 2 of Crypt(I).. Check it out if haven’t yet!!!!

Crypt (I)

The placid moon limned my bruises,

with the vivid hues deliquesced in the hoax of my silver smeared peace,

But beneath these layers and laminas still,

Lies contused, my pain,

my chest a void that serves as a coffin, for my memories of you,

Though they still lay buried in shallow mire,

Your amity was afflicted and decayed with infidelity,

But my fault, my dear?

My fault was that I held onto,

Though the cost was my life..

©A. Kamal


Part 2 to come soon.. Follow for updates!



I close my eyes to escape, 

This hustling, jostling, clamouring world, 

I close my eyes to escape if only for a while.. 


(I’m the belle of my alcazar of woods, 

Nestled in the bosom of the coppice,

 that’s hiraeth to my dawdling though fervour soul)


How the world’s clogged with vengeance and reproval,

No virtue bedeck their chaplet of  pearls, 

How they love to whine & cavil over things so petty as smirched and traded coins. 

I’m the princess Aurora reigning over my realm

Azure skys streaked with trailing clouds,

 embroidered in gold laces on bright hopeful days, 

I don’t need a prince to wake me up from my dreary slumber, 

Because my dreams are more dazzlingly flamboyant 

Than the grey-old world wrinkled with abysmal wonders) 


©A. Kamal.