Every year on your birthday,
I make a sincere attempt..
To put into words what I feel..
To show you my content!
This year is definitely not different..
My love for you keeps growing...
Feelings overflow n emotions are in abundance...
But honestly, words are real scarce!
Yet, here I am my darling mommy....
Armed with a paper and a pen..
Trying to express how dear you are...
And that you are my everything!
My best friend, my secret keeper...
My counsellor..my teacher...
No words can express enough...
That you are my all rounder!
When days are blue and you are low,
Remember you are me and I am you...
Your strength is me...
And mine is definitely you!!
My beautiful mumma...
Flash that million dollar smile...
Because its your birthday...
And while writing this...I am all smiles..

Do not fall in love with a poet.
She will feed you galaxies
until you fall sick in her brown eyes.
Then, she'll steal the stars from your breaths,
pin them proudly to her chest,
and claim that she's the night.

And soon you'll miss blue skies,
and summer highlights in her curls.
And she'll ramble in her sleep,
say things she doesn't mean,
and write poems about
how she could never be the right girl.

But, when you think you've had enough,
her words will somehow pull you right back.
Because despite her moonlit dreams,
she's just what you need,
to fill up lonely blue lines
about all the things you lack.

A quaint little bazaar
In the heart of the town
Tells a story
Of a thousand moments
Dal Bazaar as they call it
Or "Curry Market" for others who don't know.
I have fragments of memorable memories
Deep within my mind
The smell
The intoxicating smell of spices
Blended with the quiescent yet cacophonous lives
Of Merchants and Beggars
Of Buyers and Sellers
Of Bullions and a single calloused rupia
In the hands of the old *****.
The sunlight baking
Bags of turmeric.
Suspending the scent
In the minds of men.

Capering clouds of black and grey
And the sudden squall
Stirring the monotony
Of the customary.
The pirouette of rain
The one that excites the plainest of the plain
Painting the whitewash with shades of grey
The chalky walls
Dust
Moist corriander
And the relief of earth
Conciliating
So rewarding
For the ruins of the bare sun.

This flashback into my soul
Where all my senses seem to be so awake.
The feel of the wooden veranda
Scent so inexpressible
My eyes devouring the sunset
Tasting the heavens
Hearing it all.
Feeling it all.
Oh the plight of poets
The ritual to end a poem.
Painful.

Hello, friend,

I am here now.

I wasn't before, somehow.

It is a journey that I start, and you are a companion.

With love I welcome you.

Stay close, 'coz I shall need you.

Hello my friend,

Let me talk to you.

With words that make a poem.

'Coz poetry is love put into words.

With those words I say,

Hello!

:)