The doldrums of these midnight hours-
Like the receding waves at the beach,
Remind me of my evanescing youth.
I suppose,
There is profundity in waves,
That undulate in deeper oceans-
Than those that gnaw away at the shore.

For 18 years, I poured my efforts,
Into little shot glasses of failures.
Today, I am a successful alcoholic.

The angels have spoken to me and have told me this:
That the woman I love is their high queen of the heavens.
I am told by these angels that she now lives in a fortress of magic,
Of my heart; without her knowledge she rules behind those gates.

-The Silent Poet

Trudged by the demons of old,
Seared by the lashings of time,
Yes, I am crying out of pain-
And these tears are mine.
Diamonds mined in the tunnels of thought-
Of those memories that ought not be talked about,
A burdened mind is soul-steered
As I cry an ocean of tears.

And my eyes run dry before my memories of you fade away.

Your genteel keenness to deny me my identity,
Has impelled a lenient amnesia in me.
Pray, allow me to be rediscovered-
In the dark luster of your eyes,
And in the plush depths of your thoughts.

By the clashing of words starts a war.
Words served by blood and sweat, it's fought.
When neither men nor metal can leave a scar,
Words are made weapons to **** a thousand hearts.

In a fortress of thoughts sits the sire,
Words are after all, only his slaves.
The intellect, his minister and the body, an armour.
He rules alone in the dark, his name is desire.

-The Silent Poet

Out of the many colours of the world, my favourite are the ones in the night sky.
Dark and solemn, they seldom have anything to hide.
In the death of the sun, lies the creation of a masterpiece.
In the canvas of the clouds, the moon becomes the centerpiece.
While the shimmering stars sing a symphony of sparkles,
The stern planets groove to the hush of their splendour.

When the night of the mind brings night to the world,
New colours are brewed while dreams are dreamt.

Of the best memories we oft overlook
Are the depth of the experiences felt.
For what the surface offers in a day,
Are rippled by the torments within.
Like the beady eyes of an upset lover,
Or the stoic silence of seers in seclusion.
Whence do thoughts get expression?
And where do rivers find solace?
Whence does light of cognition germinate?
And where do unspoken desires die?
Whence do the notes of music resound?
And how do two lovers find their paradise?
These are but words as bubbles on water,
And these are humble attempts at answers.
As thoughts are expressed from depths of truth,
The rivers find solace in the depths of oceans.
As Light germinates from the depths of darkness,
The darkest desires die in the depth of commitments.
As the notes of music resound from the depths of passion,
Lovers find paradise in the ties of trust.

I encountered a fading moment,
In the sparkling eyes of a lady.
The gamble to express my love,
At the behest of my feelings,
Was like the evanescing tail-
Of a nugatory shooting star;
Dead in the dead of the dark.

My verses whispered in the past,
In the dreams of a dead poet.
The effort to pen my thought,
At the beat of unusual events,
Was like awaiting for dreams-
In the purposeless slumber,
And the tumultuous din of day.

But your words are my symphonies-
And in your company is my epiphany.

Forged out of stardust and shines,
Your eyes peep into the depths of my soul-
Threatening to steal my beating heart-
They are conquerors from the kingdom of love.

A girl must eat.
No, a girl must hog like a ravenous vulture.
A wretched beast from within, she must devour with grace.

Like the turbulent sea eats away at the shore.

For the mendicant of thoughts,
Sleep is a virtuous incentive.
For the explorers of thoughts,
It is simply a cursed routine.
It is not a surprise why the hungry,
Seldom bother how the food is cooked-
Or why the chef's palate is insatiable.

I see the moon in a balmy blue ocean,
Undulating in its restless waves.

Oh these foolish waters!
Find love like a little girl,
With waves hitting the shore.
The sea goes to war with itself,
As the rising tide falls in love
With the image of the moon-
That the falling tide tries to erase.

Irony sleeps in a coffin every night
For when something so deep,
All consuming and powerful-
Be so fickle as to fall in love,
With a mere image that projects,
But only on the surface,
There's nothing one can do.

In a life of learning from your mistakes,
how blessed you must be to commit
To those while holding hands of a person:
Whom you so dearly call as a friend!

Breathing in each other's breath and,
Venturing into the darkness of life,
Hand in hand we go, igniting light from within.
Friend:- a companion unto himself:
Through the loneliness that this life offers.

From the mistakes we make, spark opinions
Of all sorts and of all kinds known to man.
Mine differs from yours and yours from others.
Opinions projected from the quintessential free will of man,
Make us the finest of the Almighty's creation.

We have but one life to live under the sun.
And a handful of people to have an experience of it.
We may fight, we may hate for a while but-
Something sublime is hardwired into all of us,
Almost embedded in our very souls:
only Forgiveness and love prevails at the end.

Is there a thing-
to which The God-
may thankful be?

In a million prayers,
would The God,
my silence see?

To the God who-
rarely answers thee,
What odds offer-
a better chance to me?

So, in a million prayers-
For my solemn silence,
The God is thankful to me.

-Ajey Pai K

We all matter. Maybe a little less or a little more. But our roles are imperative for the functioning of the universe. So hang in there!

-The Silent Poet

I'm not allowed to live among people.
I guess I don't deserve to be one of them.
Or maybe, they're just all the same?
To breathe someone else's breath: suffocating.

I am not allowed to live by myself.
I guess everyone is worried about me.
Or maybe, just filthy intolerance of my being?
Adhering to everybody's advice: enslaving.

I'm not allowed to give an abstract meaning to life.
I guess it's sad to not have someone beautiful beside?
Or maybe, they don't understand that beauty has no appearance.
Being a judge and picking people: inhuman.

I'm not allowed to live in the moment.
I guess carrying the past on your back is nostalgic?
Or maybe, thinking of the future is too fantastic!
Being busy, disturbed and in misery: deathly.

To not admire what you have and living in an unquenchable thirst to possess,
To have money and not knowing it's value.
Earn, spend, possess and finally get bored.
To repeat this cycle countless times.
To meet unusual people and brand them socially awkward.
To be selfish but fake the concern for others.
To call this life, is mockery of my being. It's blasphemy.
I'm not allowed to live among people because that's not my life.

My heart is soaked in the dark inks of the night,
And my mind traverses the shimmering canvas of the skies.
I sit upon a cliff, overlooking a sleeping world
And from this silence, I derive these wonderful words.

These words, come from a source unknown,
They have been whispering in my ears when I'm alone.
Narrating from the dream of a dream called life,
These vivid revelations have now come alive.

There's one plan and a plan of balance it seems,
In the image of man, the almighty dreams.
Stories are narrated in the rivers of time,
Today's glory becomes tomorrow's dust and grime.

I have seen the divine plan through the eyes of human
And I have seen both good and bad things happen.
There's bloodshed, there's despair and there's sorrow
And there's peace, there's hope and the promise of tomorrow.

- I had a revelation

#Original

-The Silent Poet

Ajey Pai K

Imagine for once, that it is a sunny day
And the air smells of autumn scent 
And the music of the birds pervades.
Imagine for once, that life is going okay
And fruitful are the minutes which make a day
And meaningful are the conversations we have.
Imagine for once, we have the right people with us
And their presence only makes us stronger
And to bond with them means to just smile or briefly talk.
Imagine for once, that in a warm sunny day here on earth, we have truly lived under the sun and not under a ceiling.

There are people, by popular opinion, too insignificant and too small.
But the majesty of a masterpiece lies in it's tiniest intricacies!

-The Silent Poet.

Doesn't matter if you laugh or you cry,
You'll be here, if you live or you die!
Learn to light up your face with a smile
And be constantly inspired by life.

Are you sad? Then break into tears,
If you're happy then burst into cheers,
Get drunk or just be sober,
It's your life, fill it up with color!

Don't sit empty, never punish yourself.
Rather go out, fall in love with yourself!
Try to know; what drives you crazy?
If it's life, then just be happy!

Reap your sow and the rest, let it be.
You live only once, now believe me
Make peace with life and you'll see,
Live your life and learn to be free!

-The Silent Poet

I ponder, about the stars in the sky
and the endless expanse of space.
It's complete silence and variation in states
I ponder, what are we doing in this place?

We seek light and desire sound,
But it's all dark and silent all around.
What is it that distinguishes day from night?
How is it that wrong is never right?

I ponder what our true nature is.
Is it chaos? Or is it peace?
Are humans really natural and rational?
The body is superficial and it's peripherals;
Programmable.

We contradict everything in the universe.
Our intellect only makes it worse.
We ought to be silent and at peace,
While we're noisy and fight for piece.

Why is it like this? I think I know,
We've ignored a tiny detail called the soul
The body which you constantly love;
Is actually the peripheral of this soul.

The soul is a universe in itself,
Maybe a reflection or a workstation of it.
It's in perfect harmony with the universe,
It's silent, it's peaceful. The only wait: is for us.

-The Silent poet

There is no glory to light
When the oceans gleam,
Yet the waters beguile
Sun-lances by the clouds.

A slave isn't the criminal-
In his master's bidding.

So sunlight is forgiven
When drops are stolen
From veneers of oceans
To mend those clouds!

Not of any divine thoughts,
Or of some disruptive reports,
Not of high tales of morals,
Or of those words of import.
These are meagrely of those-
affairs that seem arbitrary.
I write of the many things-
scattered in the ordinary.

There are wondrous beauties-
In the wisps and curls of smoke,
That escape the evening's tea.
And in the weird lingering smells,
That call to morns from childhood.
Aye, there is solace in the news-
That the morning papers convey,
And also in the harsh routine of the day.

In the humble love of a spouse,
And the stern faces in the crowd,
Are those elaborate stories that tell:
The musings of a cause untold.
And on this premise of thought,
Like how flowers beckon to bees,
Spreads a meadow of a certain-
Fulfillment nurtured by chaos.

So, what with those chores,
That do not end with death!
And what with those odd things
That are strewn around like stars!
The daily battles with trifles,
And the woes for 'morrow!
Amidst these stultifying hours,
Lie the true secrets of happy living.

So, with no image nor compare-
'tis verse describes the ordinary with care.

Born in this world, blessed are those:
Who with family and love; I suppose.
Born in this world, blessed are those:
Who live with friends and die very old.

Blood defines family; blessed are those:
Who belong to a branch of an old tree oak.
Love defines friendship; blessed are those:
Who aren't family but matter the most.

Born in this world; we come alone.
We live with people and then die alone.
Born in this world; blessed are those,
Who realize we're orphans or I suppose.

-The Silent Poet

There's a place behind my mind which I intend to call my paradise.
There's a place, where the seven colours melt onto a single life.
There's a place, I intend to show you today behind the confines of my mind.
So please, be my partner in silence, would you be so kind?

I shall show you the tree who's shade has nurtured my words,
Where you shall listen to the songs of those tree dwelling birds.
I shall lay out my heart flat onto the lawn of leisure.
So please, behold these words, for with caution they're measured.

A stream of thoughts flows nearby this tree
Where the thirst of my mind is quenched for free.
These thoughts flow from the deepest wells of my soul
And to quench your thirst, I would churn out some more.

And so, allow me behind the confines of your mind,
Where all your thoughts whisper.
When I set out on my way, I shall come to you, and only you I shall find.
Let's meet in that paradise behind our minds and let's make memories to savor.

-Paradise.

#Original

-The Silent Poet

Ajey Pai K

She was with him and he with her,
Like parallel lines, they really were.
One loved the other but couldn't tell,
Likes they were, but they could not repel.

Curious they were about each other,
Like when a child sees another.
Strongly anxious yet hesitant,
Innocent it was, something prevalent.

It was special, that exact moment.
Better than love or any sort of romance.
Friends they were and they loved each other,
He looked at her, like he looked into the mirror.

What a miracle spins off the eyes,
Of a master capturer of colours!
For his harlot is the dancing lights-
Of a happy day's golden hours.
What with these attributing sounds-
Of a furiously futile attempt at beauty?
For what a line of poetry gets to stir-
Is foolish beside the language of images.
Words are arch enemies of colours,
Shining vibrantly on a lazy afternoon-
And of the beauty that lies in the sight-
Of the night sky with a cloudless moon.
No poem can ever stake a claim-
Of ever making hearts skip a beat
Or goosebumps riling on the necks,
As portraits of women with rosy cheeks.
If the poet sees what the sun cannot
And the best words need inspiration,
Let this be a reminder to all your faculties
That a picture is worth a thousand words.

You don't fall in love with a person. You fall in love with the ideal version of that person which you create in your mind.

-The Silent Poet

We covet the nature of things,
Like dreams knocking at reality.
As adults in some offices pause-
To mourn over their own death.
An equanimous person squats,
At the shores of flowing thought-
Seemingly free and perennial,
And asks,
What if rivers are forced to flow-
And the drops that don't comply,
Are imprisoned in ponds by rain?

-Ajey.

From within the vaults of the lost soul arises;
an uncontrollable desire to explore what has been forgotten.
A home which was once its own and the people who were its kin.

On its way back, Under the blazing sun it stands, as a witness to life of men:
And in silent thoughts, the observer becomes the observed,
Witnessing its own life; melting like the blue sky on the world.

Like the wind it was and with the old trees it had fallen in love.
And there was a strange familiarity with them, for it.
Like when the river meets the ocean and pours itself into it,
Or as an old pilgrim finally finds his destination of life.

As every river finds home in its ocean,
So does every soul finds solace in its people.
And when memories are made and the world has been conquered in spirit,
One only realizes that journeys end only back at home.

-The Silent Poet

I dreamt of thy love in its faintest chances,
Showering from the ninth cloud of reverie.
When I stood the test for my affections,
't was a fool's confession of true love:
For I remained ever a lovelorn dame.
Didn't my eyes sparkle right?
Or the curves on my hip, not enough?
Did my words fall short of my love for thee?
Or my bearings in public a little rough?
Democratic are thine associations in flesh,
Deriving pleasure out of mindless affairs.
Whilst I am ascribed the proverbial taint,
I remain the sinner and thee ever a saint.