indira babbellapati Poems

'my insider is tired...'
there's no 'mmm...'
or an 'ahh...'
in response
...

where do i belong
i seem to ask myself
more often than ever
as i float on the surface
...

Poetry
Has no
Time sense!
...

That which allows one
To stay put amidst chaos
...

the blinding skin
allows not a blink of respite
from illusion
...

as he walked out
drops of moonlight
trickled down my limping back
the tear that dropped into my palm
...

Self stood apart
It stood witness
To an unusual union
...

On this monsoon afternoon
As I lie in an uneasy stupor
An inexplicable power of magic
Insulates me
...

On a day when the sun's chariot
Is picking its momentum and
The night still exhaling cool
Dampness on the day's pricking skin
...

A poem from nowhere
Springs up and shines
Like a star on
A dark vcant sky
...