A Quest on Overdrive … :)

An eccentric rambler on life's lessons and mercies, found and lost… :)

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In Comfort

If only I could

Tuck in cosiness

Those troubles you carry

Frozen by trauma.


If I could, perchance

Borrow the travails,

Fraying, threadbare…

Your rug, by the

Hearth of your passions…


If I could, then,

Add my love

As that blanket,

Shielding you from

The stray demons that

Lurk, in the dark

Cover cobwebby corners of your

Hurting soul…


You know, don’t you?

I really am.

You’re long gone

In the distant realms

Of a far away

Thought galaxy.


But your heart beats

In sync with mine.

And that is how

Across the vastness of

This short distance

Across this table

Where we sit –

I shall lend my comfort.


In each beat

Wherein I love, live.

So that you may.

21 March, 2017

Online, blogged via app on mobile, after writing in long hand.

For the love of poetry (not that this qualifies 😛 ) on World Poetry Day 2017.

Also, Happy Nawroz, Gulshan Gev Bamboat, dear friend and constant, here on this blog too! ❤

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The surfeit of
Uniquely branded.


Aeons of drinking
From the cup of
Shared memories
Has not sweetened

For, your sudden
Sent me into
An orgy, almost

Of pain.

And here I am
Penning a paean.

To that ache
I shall always live with.

Seeming to revel in it.

Maybe I do.
Maybe, that is
The only way.

For, any other way
Would mean

Acquiring new skills.

I’m too old a dog,
For that.

Unless, of course,
I find a new spirit
Just as unique…

And assuage
My soul’s thirst.

5 March, 2017
Online, and as surreal as it can get. No, no spirits, except them wordy ones are responsible for this 🙂 


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Yes, I dared.
To speak.
And more.
To act as well.
Upon them words.

Caught you unawares, I know.

Still, what matters
Is this.

Caught your eye.

Didn’t I just!

Your move, mate.

And see if I’m not

I’m game.

The game.

It quite devours. Does it not?

Done. Dusted. Or not.
And then we wonder
What the eff just happened!

11 February, 2017
Online, on traitorous thoughts of trivialities tending to tempt tantrums 😛
Go figure. 😛 


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She tried. She really did.

Teetering on the edge
Of possibilities
They pulled me back.
Peremptorily. Sagely.
Masking the accusation
That leaked edgeways
From their words.

Words dripping
Saccharine sweet.

They called me
To Opportunities.
Them. Who called
Me. To talk.
It’s nothing, they said.
That edge you say you’re on?
It’s merely an illusion.
It’s only in your head.

Just a nonsensical illusion
Fed by… maybe a sense of 

This, with that
Smug, satisfied air
Of The One Who Knows It All.

We know, they said.
We know just how it is.

Do you?
I screamed.
Albeit silently.
I did not
Want to worry them.
Because, you see,
Self-preservation includes
Making oneself as
Invisible as possible.

You do not need
Their attention.
Their Incomprehensible,
Sometimes Insufferable

Empathy is rarer
Than that pink, well cut diamond.
Should you find one.
I hope, I tell myself,
(as motivation)
You’ll recognise it
Keep it, even if you
Pay with all the
Pain you’ll feel..
That you share
When you share
If you do.
Would it help?
Maybe. Maybe.

That’s the voyage
You’ll never embark on
But just stand on
The Sands of Time
Look out at the
Billowing waves.

Wondering how long
Before you
Give in and

Quite, quite drown.

Remembering, of course
To leave behind
The words. The instruction
For this epitaph.

She tried.
She really did. 

7 February, 2017



Suns burn with the
Irony of a knowledge
That blinds.
Light. So much light.
But never enough
To chase the shadows.
Yet, always too
Much to let
The Shadows be.

Times when I need
The Shadows
I’m blinded.

Else, it’s the eclipse
Where I exist.

Hither and thither
Emotions scuttle
Like roaches fleeing light;
Or perish,
Moth to flame.

So, each night,
I flood my room
With light.

For only then
Can I be lost.

Or found.

21 December, 2016