In the whirlwind of thoughts I sway
Relenting to the endless swooshes
as it blows all hopes further away
Like a willow tree, I fade
In the ink, it finds semblance,
in roughness of the paper, love.
And so, the dirge becomes my song.
And dreams, its manifest.
In the tossing and turning,
and in the continuous ticking
Days find colour,
and dreams, its voice.
In so much storm
everything is lighter than air.
And, the walls fade away,
Into the whirlwind, I sway.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 9:17 AM UTC
I flinch only a bit
as you tuck me in your heart.
I wake in your dreams
as you dream in my arms.
Into the night, and out
there's nothing but sound
Of hushed voices,
heartbeats racing
and the crickets around.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
In me a child was raised,
in me a child drowns.
Flung so far deep into the water,
That the surface is a misty cloud.
Its first steps marked my scope
The last steps do not leave a trail.
The son I lost to the waves,
The last I had, the last I knew.
Big bright eyes, the deep blue sea.
First words, a distant memory.
Building dreams on the beach.
Each demolished in pride and pain.
That little terror in my womb.
Fate's play.
The child I carried in my heart
The playful kid that I was.
Last goodbye, my son.
For I have stopped playing for good.
In me a child was raised,
in me a child drowns.
May 7, 2015
May 7, 2015 at 6:45 PM UTC
Sunday morning, pit-pit patter on my window panes
hot beverage, blurred vision
old gramophone playing in the next room.
Oh, how she loves music!
40 years of marriage, her hair still smell like fresh jasmine
broken glasses, shallow pockets.
Her radiant smile, wet hair
I sniff the jasmine in the air around.
Love marriage, college affair
Love letters, and library meetings.
old days, fresh memories.
She peers out from behind the door.
Her wrinkled skin, mine too.
Her lips part as she hums along to
old gramophone playing in the next room.
Oh, how she loves music!
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
Someday you feel as though you are the last leaf of the autumn’s being
And, the slightest whiff of the wind would ruin the season for all.
You feel that the entire world is woven in the designs on your skin
So intricate, so compact and yet so burdensome, you’d fall.
Grimy, wilted, the worn-out leaf
You were picked upon by the birds on the tree.
Severed as you jump out of the lap of the once lush green,
Floating in the dusty gust was another misery.
Rueful yet rebellious, you longed for wings.
Cos waiting for you in a dark, far-off corner was the gorgeous spring.
Denuded lands could offer only so much cover.
So as the days grew darker, fearful became the vernal queen.
On your tiny back you bear the brunt of sins of your land
Your gait exudes the weariness, the heart exudes the desire.
The infallible falls but never does he fail.
From the endless scars on your body leaks the vengeful ire.
You were after all, the last leaf of the fall,
the last synapse to sanity, the curtain to the wonderful show.
Your pace slowed down, and each time the mercury rose,
Spring died a little.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC
Lost in the darkness of the night
We wither away full of pride
In your arms that hold me so tight,
So close that I can almost hear your heartbeats
The music so soft, I close my eyes.
In the movements ever so slight
We are tethered by this love so fragile
Even if we die away today,
I’m keeping this night alive.
Raindrops that touch our bodies so subtly
It almost feels divine
To be in the moment and yet so far away
With our hearts closely entwined.
So, let us begin with a single step
And slip into a madness so fine
That we are one step closer to a fairy tale
And, one step farther away from life.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC
From the day the magic of words grabbed your pen,
You have had an ink, an ink that settles any tumult inside.
Your scarlet ink blots the pages,
Very much like what it does to a million minds.
From the day you’ve learned to walk, you’d rather dance
You’d rather stumble than just tread those awful paths.
Despite the flightless bird that you are, you’d rather fly.
You’d soar higher, for your heart would set the limits and not the sky.
From the day you recognised colours, you’ve been painting the town red.
The canvas has never been blank, even if your life’s been but colourless.
For what are palettes to a mind with such torrent of emotions
Your fears formed the blackness in the painting, your liveliness too garish for the sight.
From the moment love tugged at your heartstrings,
You’ve been but singing all the while.
You’d rather sing without notes than in a voice that would tell you’ve cried.
Your emotions so melodious, you’d drown somewhere softly in the shallow sky.
From the moment you knew of movement, you’d rather run.
You’d run from place to place, all the responsibilities shun.
It was on the day when the drops of sweat smothered your own face,
and your mind was sore, that you realized life was not another game.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
The fear, silent, sly stretches across the room
Sitting in a corner, I wait for the doom.
My swollen eyes recognise the silhouette
lurking in shadows of the dimming night.
It crept nearer.
Leave me alone, I cherish the solitude.
It fed on my thoughts. It grew healthy.
I slammed and shut the door tight.
The door remained ajar.
It crept nearer.
If death be beautiful, let it take over the night.
If the fear is to stay, it is better turning off the lights.
The silent breezes are deafening.
The walls are closing in on me.
It crept nearer.
The fear empties my life, one moment at a time.
It is the flashbacks, the nightmares,
and, everything that is frightening.
My heart defies death.
My body nourishes the certainty.
I lie down for a moment.
It crept nearer.
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 3:14 AM UTC
The leaves falling from a tree
recite much love for the ground.
Yellow and wilted as they are,
with melody so profound.
The rustling leaves
Set notes for the day
They mourn the death of beauty,
the demise of the spring.
While a wise harp in a distance
plays songs of harmony.
Spring soon shall come,
it declares gleefully .
Scared, the falling leaves,
Smile through thick and thin,
They land on the ground beneath.
In much adulation for the tree,
they long for another spring.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC
The silent conversations in our letters
are cradled by the lovely, lonesome breezes of the spring.
They travel just a little beyond the horizon.
And, settle into the depths of the waveless oceans.
*Night after night, they make a call.
Come hither, friend! Rescue us all.*
When the slightest puff of wind brushes away
the strands of your dark, raven hair from your creased forehead.
Do not close the windows.
When the hushed whispers tickle your ears
Do not dismiss them as just another noise.
*Night after night, they make a call.
Come hither, friend! Rescue us all.*
They are treasures buried in coffers of the past.
They are gold, and they glitter.
They are dreams of a distant future,
Vague and infinite.
So, when you wake up in middle of the night
from the visions in your deep sleep.
Do not dismiss them as just another nightmare.
They are like the carols of Christmas, poetry of the past.
They are musings of a lovely, lonesome heart.
Do not dismiss them as just another prose.
*Night after night, they make a call.
Come hither, friend! Rescue us all.*
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 4:31 AM UTC