Poems published in February 2016


a poem by Feroze Varun Gandhi

“Shape your illusion nearer rather than farther” she said
Staring at the dust-cooled moon|
All these words are protests
The music of chains
Weathered by storms of colour

I am the man who loves too deeply
Who gives thanks through his tears
Tears are a message to oneself
The glare of the inner eye
Earthed by fire and
The memory of sacrifice

Shattered like the horizon of the mad man
The sun thinks about the night to be filled
And the victor wonders
What the defeated are thinking


a poem by Feroze Varun Gandhi

Now take from me in the open light
The animation of defeat
The value of darkness and mystery looms
A sound that drowns those not listening
The sea divides into its wrath
In my heart I hear the sounds of the earth
Reaching, raw, like an expanding teardrop
Splashing like the past
Staring at me like a stranger
A man with a broken past
Is a man with a broken heart
The land is a
A burnt spoke
With all the guilt shaken off


a poem by Feroze Varun Gandhi

A less tired sleep
A soft release
Expectation slowly dulled over flame
Fall back on your hope
Time is a bloodless wound
Its all even in the darkness
As every dream unfolds towards the answer
As you blow your whistle in the direction of my fall
I hand you in turn your wish for silence
I hand you in turn
My last defence

If we must never meet again

a poem by Feroze Varun Gandhi

If we must never meet again:
Remember me as Bhrigu: that born out of fire
There is a beat and a drum and a sound and a silence and a disappointment
There is a cause and I am the nation of suffering
I don’t want to be in the utopia of survivors
Or in the prison of waiting
I want no part of a quiet voice
I want to see into the life of fire
There is no divine soul that inspires all men.
Madness is a tongue
Silence is a debate
I have visions of the impossible at work
Understanding revolt
To hunt without expectation
To my mistakes
To those I’ve granted consequence
Time’s a waste of mind
Detach yourself even from your begging bowl
For sounds protrude from his voice like a sick man
Starting to betray the dark
The wounded mind
Leading me to an island
And if only this year
Brought with it a wisdom
Immune to the weightiness of ages of dried blood
The calling of the form is always instructive
There was one person who stopped and his soul was too heavy to carry
I’ve lived my life
I will never talk again


a poem by Feroze Varun Gandhi

The road burnt into my heart
The eyes of the cloudless sky
The sky holds the morning
With a soft vendetta
Awaken the confessed
The false witness is lost
Squared by yesterday’s promise
The way ahead is an exchange

Patience is a hesitant signpost
Often the coldest amidst the glow
Cursed by the renegade moonlight
A poet waits for his revolution


a poem by Feroze Varun Gandhi

In dreams… I fight different wars of ashes and absolution
Entering an undefined freedom
The smell of burnt time finds its captor
in an orphaned sky
Losses find their way
to the tomorrow that has passed
Dreams that fail
carry their own answers
with a fierce smile

Mine is a short history to harness
If the sea is a symbol of my love
then let truth be the first dialectic
and red the colour of my blindness

By the river dark
A thousand stories deep
I lay my sense of regret
I kneel before the sigh of the sunset
I wait for the truth to smooth these rough silences
I wait for the night to swallow my memories


a poem by Feroze Varun Gandhi

Into the mouth of the feast,
Of wrath, of questionable verities
Like truth and identity

I roam in the darkness
while negating it.

I sleep with a sound
so time will not crush me

I hide where its least cold
and wait to fail myself
just a little while longer

I deny the power of the other within me:
the sound of the phantom breath inside me


a poem by Feroze Varun Gandhi

Sometimes God is all he can’t refuse
Sometimes your heart is a mouth
Some answers haven’t found their questions
Bow to the capture
The ransom that you serve

Trying to remember what
I really should forget
God is as close to you
As you are to yourself
The end engendering itself

The sky whispers
The remains of a prophecy:
That all roads are mirrors
And all mirrors are questions
Perhaps your race has just been run
And somewhere its time for a renewal


a poem by Feroze Varun Gandhi

He grew up believing in tomorrow
Now he says
“I lived alone in a house with a sick dream”
His son too believes in tomorrow
Now he says he lives alone in a house with a sick man,
Both feel that truth is the final negation
Feeling the glare
And the need to endure.

Twin truths unable to scare each other away
Soliciting the denial
Underline what you hear
The law of the spirit speak softly
Her gates fall onto an open ended tomorrow
Poisonously alongside
In sleep in speak
Sometimes I wait for that unearthed feeling
That soft intensity
Pushing in.


a poem by Feroze Varun Gandhi

To you it came as a surprise
That in change I lay hidden
That I slept alone
My fight lay beside me
That my thoughts were so tough on me
Yet they released an immense innocence
That I never needed to be lost
Or wanted to be tamed
That all I wanted was not all I feared
Is it still a surprise?
That I’m still here
Long after you’ve left
Looking out at everything as myself
Looking after the rain in my mind


a poem by Feroze Varun Gandhi

I’ve buried the wrong life
I’ve been led by the wrong cry
I’ve not tried to get past myself enough
It’s all going to come back someday
In a tired voice
Demanding its own back
In a blackness that can only be described as the past

Numbing all experience
No judgement
No voice
Retreating into image
The idea of the image


a poem by Feroze Varun Gandhi

Without protection
I sit alone in this room
Night after night
Calming myself against a nothingness
Which refuses to show its face
I lie in a patchwork of the impossible present
And the invisible future
Into the wreck
The fear well travelled
I end where I started
With the chase inside


a poem by Feroze Varun Gandhi

When I was young
I fell on my heart
Both arms tied to the truth
All that exists between us is
The remains of a sadness

All doors are mirrors

a poem by Feroze Varun Gandhi

All doors are mirrors
That leave us the trail of need
In seeking the future as a leveller
We devour our memories
And lie still, feeling broken.
First comes nothing
Then comes pain
That plots through us
In grey and blue
Preparing for an early darkness
Who are we but one sound
Bound by an axis of grief
To what…
At best, I think, I’m floating.

Slow Days

a poem by Feroze Varun Gandhi

Ending in an open door
Watching people perform
Preparing for the abyss
Choices are ladders
Moral codes. Schema.
Avenging the wrong word

The truth self exiled
Ever disappearing person
A duty bound anger
The unity of opposites
A visiting serenity
Stains the honour of the free.