Poetry

"...Her beauty a flaming sword..."

"...I had no destination home..."

"...You play the hand that came your way..."

"...the muse has, it appears, returned ..."

"When I speak, Mother surfaces..."

"...it’s a hope-giving experience..."

"Because of rust, she stopped...."

"That night was and was not the same..."

"Archimedes jumped out of the bath..."

"There is nothing but my EYES left to see..."

"...He moves. I move...."

"...adroitly pretending I know where I'm going..."

"In my mind’s eye is a mad marauder..."

Amit Parmessur is a Mauritian poet and tea enthusiast whose writing blends island beauty with modern sensibility. When not writing, he is busy investigating his washing machine’s secret sock stash.

"...I will get up each time..."

"...you are on the road to create yourself..."

"they told me take a dive..."

"...I reach out to touch the emptiness..."

"I had to turn the car around..."

"...I drank your world from blue snow..."

"...Take it as if it’s your last chance..."

"We are ill-equipped to understand..."

"...mittens forgotten on the kitchen counter..."

"...A mirror, but with no depth..."

"Let’s say ‘No’ to: bombs that kill..."

"...what started it, a misunderstanding?..."

"...mathematical equations and astrological accusations..."

"...it just feels right sitting in front of the typer pounding the keys..."

"... the singing seam of the train and the rain..."

Speaking of a time no one remembers...