Listen to thy heart, my dear!
Heed what it says !
Listen to it despite the din and the noise.
Listen to it even if sometimes it may make you lose your poise.
Listen to it when it cries out loud and clear.
Listen to it when it palpitates in fear.
Listen to it when it wants to dare and enjoy.
Listen to it when it wants to just play coy.
Listen to it to get a clue and to find who you are.
Listen to it to get closer to dreams that seem so afar.
Listen to thy heart, my dear!
Heed what it says!

i feel
so much
at home
lying
beside you.
now i know
why they say
home is
where
the heart is.

Once upon a time
there was a kiss.
Sweet and
Sensuous.
It flowered
each time
his lips met hers
lusting for one another.

After many days and nights
the unthinkable happened.
Her lust transformed into love
that slowly and silently
killed his lust.

And ever since
her lips are
strictly prohibited from
entering the doors of his.
Killing even
the slightest chance
of the same sweet kiss.

A befitting punishment
for the crime of love!

all you did was
simply and slowly
run them in my hair

and lo and behold !
a waterfall
of joy burst open
inside me and
carried me awash to
depths of ecstasy
i had never been
and whilst
i was still ecstatic
i never saw the coming
of that soft
and surprising
kiss on my lips
which pulled me
out of my depths
and whirled me up
to heights of joy
that i had never seen.
all this while
simply and slowly
running them
in my hair.

how do you do it ?
this using of your fingers
like magical wands.

I want to dig a hole
and bury
the emotions
that rise inside me
for you

I feel sorry when
I see them swell
and rise only to
be met by a silent
stone like shore
of your heart

so I want to dig a hole
and bury the emotions
even before they swell
rise up and come
crashing down

the hole I dig would need
to be quite wide and deep
to contain the range and
depth of emotions that
arise inside me for you

the emotions which you
ignore and don't want to know
the emotions which you
feel but have learnt to un-feel
the emotions which you
browse and carefully skip

once I bury them
in the big hole that I dig
you will never be able
to see them and
will never need to ignore
or feel or skip

then it will be all clean
calm, clear and free
once I have sterilised
my conversations from
all trace of emotions

when I would have
buried them in the
biggest and widest
hole that I can dig

Until yesterday
I was
unaware.
Blind.
Un-conscious
to the
power of choices
that rested within me.
All my tools and colors
were chosen by others
and
were handed over to me.
That was until yesterday !

Today is a different day !
For today I choose
the landscape
the background
the scheme of colors
the medium
the strokes of my brush.

I choose them all
to paint on the new
canvas I get handed in
each day
with consciousness and
in full awareness.

And every once in a while
I like to
pause,
stand away from it all
and
take pride
in what's shaping up to be
a Masterpiece -
the very purpose
for which the Master
created me.

She would
borrow
the words from
whispering winds

She would steal
the tunes from
singing birds
and would
create
a world of
songs around her

Indifferent to
the shackles of time,
unaffected by
the fetters of fate,
she would sing
many songs

Songs of hope
songs of love
songs of joy
songs of freedom
songs of songs

Today

I saw
her wandering free,
free from fetters
shackles and all...

I saw
her singing along
with those birds
from whom she used to
steal her tunes,
and kissing the winds
that used to
lend her their words...

And I heard
the sky whisper
to the earth:
'She has
enchanted
her dreams
into life!'

Holding on to things that
at the end of the day
are sure to be left behind

Laboring away precious time
for lots of money, to pay
for escaping the grind

Wanting and seeking love
yet giving some, never
crossing the mind

Worshipping the mortal
external while to the internal
eternal beauty remaining blind

Always restless and searching
not knowing what is it
that we are looking to find

Staying trapped in such ironies
we think we are free, our world
is surely a mad house of a kind!

I want to dance until
my feet go sore
my anklets break free
and I faint on the floor.

I want to sing until
I lose all my senses
my lungs tear apart
and my larynx comes to
a screeching halt.

I want to laugh until
tears pour out my eyes
the darkness around me
gets dissolved in my
laughter's floodlights
and all the existing walls
shatter and break
by the sound of my guffaw.

I want to be like that
singing dancing laughing, mad woman
whom we like to stop and watch,
shake our heads in disapproval
and then secretly think –

'I wish I could be crazy like her!'

Playing with words
Flirting with thoughts
Hiding behind metaphors
Seeking an expression
Prancing in the past
Down memory lanes
Reliving the joys
Relieving the pains
Painting a future
Winking at the possible
Gazing at the probable
Sighing at the impossible
Poet is at work
Creating a uni-verse.

Audacity
I have always loved that word
It conjures up in my mind
An image of something outrageous
Something bold and
therefore something beautiful.

"au-da-ci-tee"
I have always loved
the sound, the tone and the beat
of that word

It peps me up
to rebel against the norm
to ask awkward questions
to challenge we-know-it-alls!
to throw off all my guards
to smell some freshness of air
to give a **** for what 'they' might think
to enjoy and relish the cool of my own confidence

And the very best thing
about being audacious is
that look on 'their' faces
When 'they' get the
first taste of my audacity.

Oh ! don't I love that look on 'those' faces
the jaws dropping
the eyebrows raising
the faces frowning
the lips curving to form a crooked smile

All in a state of shock of seeing
the order of the day
the business as usual
ruffle, shake and dwindle
and most of all of seeing me
have (also) the
au-da-ci-tee
to enjoy and love it all !!!

Poetic words
I seek them
by delving deep
inside my being
and having found them
I play with them
I talk to them
I walk with them
I look them in their eyes
and I make out of them
all sorts of things.

Sometimes I make them
into a fountain
of my joy-spring,
or a 'poe-tree' with
the coolest shade
or a bouquet of
wishful thoughts.

I've even made them
into a vent for
my fuming state.

In every form
they take,
they
soothe my
scorched skin,
become a balm for
my blistered body,
relieve me of
my every pain,

color my life
with hopes and
dreams,
clarify my turbid
mind and then

in the end
they hold my hands
and lead
my restless being
to the shore of
just one word -
the best of all
poetic words
to the wor(l)d
of silence!

My feeling for him
Is like curled up
tail of a dog

I try straightening
It from being
lovelorn to being
just friends

I try curling  it
the opposite way
to "just couldn't care
as he is just
not my type"

But every attempt
Of mine in
straightening it
and opposite
curling
goes futile
as it keeps coming
back to the same
curled up state
of being lovelorn

oblivious
to the waves
of time
that are
waiting to come
crashing
from behind

we build
our sand castles
of worldly
possessions
with great pride
naïve
as a child

I choose
to wear
my share
of pains
with pride
and panache

like those trees
flamboyantly
adorning their
pale and dry
autumn leaves