A & E

By Ashvin Mistry

Cough, wheeze, splutter, sneeze,
Liquoirish allsorts in A & E.

Slouched, hobbling, whisper, breathe,
musical chairs at 20 to three.

Me or you, peek a boo,
Playing bingo with the ladies in blue.

Jabbed, prodded, peeled, dripped
Bring out the box of magical tricks.

Up, down, high, low,
Diagnostic shuffle from Dr Know.

Your Sigh

By Ashvin Mistry

Your sighs,
sighs I believe are there to deceive,
to make the pain subside in me.

Your words,
words framed and presented with care,
is just a snapshot of my dispair.

Rabbit

By Ashvin Mistry

Pointed ears that droop to a mellow yawn,
soft chestnut brow that waits for the dawn.

Whiskers that question each sound in the yard,
hurry my young one before the light reveals all.

Film Noir

By Ashvin Mistry

Shreds of strawberry hair curled
coyly about her face,

flickering and floundering with a
smokey southern haze.

Projected on a 2 by 2 a cinematic great, 

immortalized frame by frame,

a film noir lost in space.

Battle Letters

By Ashvin Mistry

Then a letter materialized,
coaxed and pixelated
hovering before my eyes.

Waiting for my errant finger,
to place it next to a supporting soldier.

Line them up with ardent candour,
march them over quick athunder.

Send them charging with vibrant grandeur,
to commandeer a gigantic scoreline,
for it's victorious master.

Dishyness

By Ashvin Mistry

I thought of you, in aisle number 2,
Amongst the sweet peas and passion fruits.

Marked as bruised but not past it's sell by date,
dropped by a healthy 25%.

Yum yum I thought, I'll take you to my place,
you're sure to liven up my dishy plate.

Kitchen Choo Choo

Precious silence sliced with anarchy,
rumbling and tumbling inside her head.

Stand in submission to the bubbling frothing pans, 

that drains her afternoon zest.

Bathed in scrumptious ailments of carrots stew and bread, 

drowns her sweet perfume a la toilette.

So Tic toc labor's on, 

school run begs come on! 

Lamb roast wants 20 minutes too, 

sinks flushed to the grim brim ...phew.

Table set for 2+2, 

fork, knives but where are the spoons.

Stop, breathe and turn about too, 

hubbies home, kids in tow, 

with stories told of another day lost in servitude.

by Ashvin Mistry

Yogini

by Ashvin Mistry

A vision, a deity, on a hard wooden floor 

with only a mat and the silence to call her own.

Poised to greet the moon, in a tryst with the divinity, 

she fought for her sanity in a world full of anarchy.

Things said, things done, sorted and forgotten.

Deep in contemplation, she finds peace once again.

Wilderness

by Ashvin Mistry

If I was to dream lost within some wilderness , 

would that make sense to you? 

To all a thunder your presence must I have felt, 

searching for me too.

My blatant anticipation should be expressed as bliss,

when my soul does feel so blue. 

Would you have waited for my words,

to breathe life into you.

Word Games

by Ashvin Mistry

..and so it comes to this

     letters dropping one by one

          among st sips of coffee and biscuit crumbs.

...between errands of this and that , 

      after the first yawn of the day, 

          before thoughts can linger after a hectic day. 

...tally relentlessly one by one , 

      stacking numbers till a game is won.

Nocturnal Bliss

by Ashvin Mistry

I waited for the night to sing, 

     it's resonant lullabies from nocturnal beings. 

Of growls of howls and beckoning hiss,

     that make me wish for some ethereal bliss.

Strangers Reply

by Ashvin Mistry

I know a kindness in her eyes, 

that says I'm alright, 

I'm just fine, 

I'm in control, 

I'm a confident soul who shall not fail, 

but put you under a welcoming spell.

I sense a hesitant smile framed by time, 

used when curious, used when tired, 

used when sipping a vintage wine 

whilst recounting days of frivolous guile.

I see an elegant pose, that could be in vogue,
held with precision , refined in composition,
waiting with anticipation for a stranger's reply.

Broken Strings

by Ashvin Mistry

She broke a feather on an evening spring,
across the string with a ticklish swing.

Melodic notes groaned taught in slumber, 

dream't whispers of silent expectancy 

with seismic climatic intensity.

Held in captivity, 

captured by memories, 

a delicious coalesce,

for my waning questioning sanity.

Entwined in flight, 

bound by my thoughts, 

as each note played it's beckoning part.

To make it weep so, with an idle stroke, 

a joyous fling to a coaxing heart, 

and send a rhythmic call alas I hope, 

to draw me near into her grasp.

Snowy Dance

by Ashvin Mistry

I felt her snowy hair brush about my grizzly face, 

as the DJ  spun an 8 track to dictate the throbbing base.

Guiding her through lifts and twirls then held in a tight embrace, 

she held her breath, her heart, her pose, 

for just one more moment of grace.

That pause between the beats, 

is where I want to be. 

Her not knowing, coyly yearning,

waiting for a glance from me.

If She Calls

by Ashvin Mistry

Innocent breath, exhaled and let sail, 

across some forgotten memory I once thought was real.

She'd swept it up, 

churned and tossed siren of this sea,

to lay her treasures frothing in clandestine lights,

sparkling in front of me.

I waited, 

she came, 

lapping coyly on my gaze, 

crashing among broken fragments in search of a soul,

bathed in gushing flow of loves eternal hope.

Layered by visions, 

basking in temptations, 

tortuous by day,  

restless by nights, 

I succumbed to my deity and met a watery plight.