Red ribbon, white socks
donned school uniform
9'o clock signals escape from study
a quick run into the alleys
then a gust of bus smoke
takes her to school
and then a lonely heart in
acute melancholy eagerly
waits for the day to die.
A thousand broken poems, bites the dust
It was my first love Stefi August
When dusk descended in the towns
this lonely heart dissolved in the wicked crowd
A night awakened by movie songs
and recently mastered slangs flew in the air
Tired of this cheap escapism
this lonely heart wants to buy pain
to inspire his poetry
that time Stefi August
in lover's imagination
try to penetrate his heart.
A thousand broken poems, bites the dust
It was my first love Stefi August
Maths notebook was adorned with pictures
her name, her portrait, page after page
a thousand festivals and morning hymns passes
this heart frantically waits for that golden day
When the night was busy with the hustle of theater
this heart waited for that moment
when in the stillness of night
in open windows
for once, just once if she stands
Stefi was too innocent
she didn't understand
occupied in her own wonder.
A thousand broken poems, bites the dust
It was my first love Stefi August
Jul 15, 2019
Jul 15, 2019 at 4:06 AM UTC
I sometimes feel bewildered by the
Thoughts of a close one
How they sometimes suffer in silence
Even when consolation comes not to
Console but to take the ashes of Humanity
Preserve it in heart for the sake of
Preserving.
I do not ask you to rekindle it
Just preserve it in your heart
So that you don’t forget its essence
There will be times when your
Principles biased by the storms
Of your own fate will be faltering.
I do not want you to change
You are quite perfect for my liking
But love and death cannot be bounded
You’ll never know when you start to
Gaze the stars in lonely nights
Or look at the birds fly away
From your nearby tree
Only to feel the same longing
For someone.
Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 4:40 PM UTC
For her love is a word
full of emptiness
she fails to
understand
its language
it's too preachy
for her likings
For a little girl
whose father
left her when
she is too young
to even shed a tear
when it's her time
to marvel at the flowers
she is forced to
mourn with them
if at all
she knew
their pain
as they watched
her confused face
but she grew
she learned to act
and learned to frown
she paid her dues
Now she's thick
as a bark
bold and bare
but she's
not without love
What was snatched
from her from the very
beginning
is now returned
in the songs of
egrets and buzzards
only that
A lotus cannot grow
in clean waters
as much she wants to
But when she blooms
people look at her
in amazement
forgetting
what's around
only she knows
what she's been through
But in the end
a lotus she is...
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 8:55 PM UTC
Remember when kites
soared the skies
till twilight time
longer, later
A flimsy string
that brought you power
with it you
charted the heavens
In drooping afternoons
the battle for aerial
supremacy started
skilled hands guided
those beauties
in the air
a little adjustment
and up they go
in the cerulean sky
thousands airborne
a riot of colors
overflowing
in the gracious expanse
swirling and twirling
in the autumn breeze
how they came in
plethora of shapes
and forms, and names
Thrush, sparrows, flowers
dragons, all mixing
and blending in the
celestial canvas
A living collage
framed in the sky
raw innocence dotting
the openness
the laughter, the fights
all written in the wind
as Mother Nature
makes her priceless
memories under the
setting sun.
And come dusk, when
miles of strings get rolled
on a stick, the kite picked up
and protected like an injured
bird, and next day
eager eyes looked at studied
the weather from
school window
to start all over again
How I wished, the kites return
and flood the sky in riotous display
for now they only soar in my dreams.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 5:48 PM UTC
Her skin's camouflaged
by bark, or so it seems
but really
a lost purpose
for it is not her doing
in the days of old
it's the whisper of time
to prepare her
for the final dance
reluctantly she gave
her body swirling and bending
twisting and turning
in the airy stage
a perfect Giselle
when finally she stopped
and there she lay still
a perfect camouflage
by earth
only her dismal soul
dissolved in the Northwind.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 5:05 PM UTC
Without my presence
the nothingness
remains undefined.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 4:26 PM UTC
Deep within myself
Lies a different “me”
Who is untouched
By my nuances
My happiness, my sorrow.
He watches as I make mistakes
And the same mistakes
And the same mistakes again
Mistakes that lead to my happiness
Then sorrow.
But he remains silent
Sometimes he gives
Me subtle hints
A glimpse of a path
Untrodden
But filled with promise
I try to
Walk that path
But it’s difficult
Due to changing needs
That divulges me
From my path
I am trying to walk
That path even now
But God those screamers
Whose voice is so
Tempting to hear
They offer a clear path
Without hindrance
But Alas! After a short
While I found myself
Standing on the edge of a cliff
Compelled to make a decision
Not so with his path
Though I tread slow
Atop rugged terrain
Covered with fog
Always there is certainty
of a blessing nearby
gentle consoling voices
that inspire me
to go ahead
breaking the fog
but the screamers
never go away
And in the end
I am torn
Between paths
Only that
When I am forced
To jump from that cliff
I always find
The ocean
Whose tides
Return me to shore
To start over again
And the glimpse
Of his path
Beckon me once more
I do not know
What lies on the other
Side but still those blessings
and those soft whispers
of solace
Reinforce my hope
To move on.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 3:35 PM UTC
What if Love was put in a time-machine
And rewinded back to the past?
What change would you like to see in it?
I for one, would eradicate its selfishness
Why love so few, when the whole world
Is in your hands? Isn’t it what the great men said?
I would also get rid of its leftovers
The pain, the sorrow that it leaves behind
Why not move on and love the next person
More dearly? Why linger?
Lastly, I would wipe off its memories
So that it cannot hurt anyone by reminding the past.
What do you say?
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 1:53 PM UTC
Remember when paper planes
glided through the air?
swirling and twirling away
in the autumn breeze.
countless pages of notebook neatly torn
and carefully given shape.
No avionics, no engines
just carefree flight of its own accord.
Oh the joy it was when they were
airborne, in classrooms, corridors,
and playgrounds. The battle for aerial
supremacy ensued as the tiffin bell rang.
The southern winds played with our
prized possessions and lifted them to glory.
diverse designs in all shapes and size adorned
the school atmosphere. Crafted by skilled hands
these beauties tumbled down to the earth
when the crimson Sun sank in the horizon and as
living memories framed in the portrait of time
and come next day, when thousand others
become airborne again under the smiling sun to
greet the wind, another day of adventure and fun
permanently added in our dream-books to offer us
a small token of freedom from our troubled lives.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 11:04 AM UTC
If I be your teardrop
I'll never fall
for the fear of losing you.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 10:16 AM UTC