Byju V Poems

Her sharp polished nails, red as oozing blood,
traversing through my back, feel like the cold long edge of the knife.
I lie here on the bed, failing to catch
the excited music of little birds, that always float around
...

I stare at the tea stain,
a broken circle, frayed edges,
sketching an abstract painting in the sparkling table-top.
The scalded tongue,
...

'No friends. No one to trust.
Nothing to believe in.
Everything hangs in midair
Meaningless.
...

The artist,
exhilarating in the brutal beauty of
self-imposed pain that is art.
Tasting with relish,
...

Safe for now….
The writer finished the book;
Now comes the hard part;
First the scrutiny by the experts -
...

Thrown face down
On a heap of waste
Was the book, the old one,
I had read when the dreams were still so colourful,
...

I think, how words change,
meanings and forms.
Once I asked her, how
the moon got this big burn in its face,
...