Author Archives: Gauri Dixit

About Gauri Dixit

A software professional from Pune, India, Gauri is an avid reader and writes English poetry. Her poems have been published in multiple anthologies including 'Cloudburst - the womanly deluge' and 'athe Virtual Reality'. Her poems were featured in the Poet's Corner for the E-zine 'Mind Creative' published from Syndey Australia and Learning and Creativity e magazine.

Curry leaves

She told me
That they treated women like curry leaves floating in the Dal
They put us in the hot oil along with mustard, hing and turmeric
We splutter
We burn
We flavour the dal
And when we are served
We are picked out
And thrown
Straight into the garbage
She told me
Not to be the curry leaves
My Ajji (grandmother) and I both, idiots of the first order
We tried to be the dal instead
And got eaten up

Tongue-tied

There was a time
When I knew not
That tongue is black
Darker than the thoughts

The tongue would then
Wag at will
Thrash out in all directions
Had her fill

Leaving debris
Of dead words
Poisoning even
The sweetest little bird

The eyes normalised death
For a while
Every being has to die
The tongue said with a smile

The dead screamed of balance
The tongue refused to pay heed
Thrashing at will
Till it began to bleed

Stop the blood
It screamed
As I tied it up
The world beamed

The dead rise
From the dead
Happy now
That they can batter my head

I love you, but where’s freedom in that?

I love you
But where’s freedom in that?

Love doesn’t leave me alone
Not even for a second
Riding on my back everywhere it goes
Love is many
Just like me

I love you
But where’s freedom in that?

You stay away
But love doesn’t budge
Every minute every day
Love is a smudge
My body and my soul akin to darkness now
Love has the last laugh

On a quaint European street

Hope is a quaint European street from a movie
With roadside cafes and little shops
Not so busy
Yet prosperity blooms
Hardly a shopper steps in
Yet there is no gloom

Hot chocolate
With a heart
Every cup
Is an art

No poverty
No trash
No sadness
No lack of cash

Hope lives in the reels
Hope lives on the cloud
Hope is the zeal
Hope pulls the crowds

On a quaint European street

Broken men and shards

Broken men
With the shards keep poking /stabbing women
Not one but many
Everywhere
Everyplace
Every minute
Even in space
Sometimes there’s blood drawn
Sometimes just pieces of skin
Sometimes bloodless flesh
And at times nothing
The shards
Become havens of / for biodiversity
The men go on

Poking / stabbing is way of life
Peace is nowhere to be seen
Even sleep is about strife
Wars don’t need fancy weapons
No swords, no knives
Just the shards of broken men
Fallen off the panes

Brown

If I ever had a soul
It would have been brown
As brown as the aromatic coffee beans
A little darker maybe
Somewhat akin to mildly dark chocolate
Earthy as the fragrant brown earth

They say souls are colourless
But they also say that eyes are the mirrors of the soul

If I ever had a soul I am sure it would have been brown
As brown as the trunk of an ancient tree
Eternity contained in its girth

What have you done to time?

What have you done to time?

Putting words
Into its meaningful mime
Putting a melancholy tune
To its delightful rhyme

When it was walking
With its easy stride
You pushed the horses
On a racy ride

Do you think you will get away with it?
Time is no fool
With the evidence you have left at every step
In no time will it lose its cool

And when time stops
Nothing will move
Neither you nor your kin
Will be able to groove

©. Gauri Dixit
Sep-2018

Hoping

I have always watched from a distance
Hoping

Hoping that one day
Someone will blow
A little smoke
Towards me
I will inhale
A little will be enough
For me
To lose myself
In the hope
And the hope has been my dope
All this while
Keeping me high

Higher than the sky
I float
Hoping for a little smoke

Smoke
Has no wings
Just a few rings
In which you dissolve
And in you
The smoke is lost

I am left with the stub
Cold
At times half lit
Sometimes even good as a cigarette
Unreachable from my sky
High