Talk to me

Talk to me.

Your words make an impact
like the wind that whispers-
gentle yet profound.

There is an innocence in your syllables
like a child’s cascade chuckle
flowing from your beetroot tongue.

There is some honey in them, too,
the bees were distracted, perhaps.

Talk to me
Talk to me
my love
for your words are my cup of tea
on a lonely day
when it rains on an empty road
none there.

When you don’t talk
I will be that purple rose
that has wilted- devoid of water.

I will be the sun in the night-

Talk to me
simply because we are humans.

Copyrights @Brindha Vinodh


I will write (a roseate sonnet)

I will write, I will write
until this world is a riot
until my funeral flames ignite the torch light.
I will write, I will write

until there are no more tomato hearts to bleed
until war Rests in Peace
until corporate conspiracy stops to breed
until the incessant plunders of earth cease

until the topaz oceans stink no more
until my rhymes break apart into free verses.

Rocks undergo metamorphosis too
Oh! human glacier hearts, will you not melt?
Slumber is a sly serpent, wake up!
Exert yourself, until then I will write!

Copyrights @Brindha Vinodh