Monday, September 3, 2007

The lady was found

Her body was found on the street
Her shoes left her miles back

The journalist took some photo
Two police men were talking over phone
A sniffer dog moved here and there
Searching for some hidden clues

The man sitting in the bench
With some roses for his room,
Stooped forward and asked –
Are you looking for her soul?

Saturday, September 1, 2007

In my Search

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In my search for an ideal place
I created hundred different spaces.

Or perhaps
Those spaces created
Hundred different versions of my soul;

Or perhaps
My soul is now
Divided into hundred different places.

Hundred different pairs of eyes
Now stare at me from a distance.

I didn’t find that place
Neither can I unite my soul.

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