indira babbellapati Poems

some are passing clouds
they leave unbearable humidity behind

some are incessant rains
...

acceptance of a situation
is tip of an iceberg...
the transitory phase
that goes into it
...

i'm the stage
i'm the setting
i'm the play
i'm the actor
...

a three year old
smeared with insane seed…

a daughter of earth
her hymen torn into
...

i looked to my right
i looked to my left
i even tried looking behind...
...

the night stares
into my eyes like
a wounded animal
pleading to relieve it
...

At times
In a fleeting moment
I let go myself of
My travails, trials, tribulations
...

If I had a wall
I would go searching
...

Nothing or none could ever tell
what this love is. Love, that can
assume any colour, any taste,
scent or colour without a context
...