Free falling rain,
do we color you
when you land?
Turn your hues,
from white to blue
when you fell
with no such plan.

Holding on to the spool
gets difficult
when the thread gets tugged
from behind
and I have to stop.
Turn around, look back,
and wonder how to get it
un-stuck.
I can't stay and get loose,
I can't move forward
without.

I walk back
re-trace the path
that got me so far.

I wish I had tugged instead,
and severed the bond,
I wish I could drop the spool
and just keep moving on.

The sea
like a giant's snores
makes it sentinels in jade
quiver, and in haste
they shed their arms
which fall softly
on cushioned ground
with my footprints
in its wake
as I walk into
the giant's nose.

Dying embers of a blazing sun
shielding the sky
even in its last moments,
such purpose is what I seek
when I am shred,
scattered from west to east.

Bow in elegance when waves trash,
accept a fate that sand castles don't last
find my hold in a universe so grand,
know that even stars are made
with a plan.

In the pink waters of a complacent sea,
I watch silhouettes
and the lessons they carry,
looking to horizons,
to find faith like the blind
to know after a sunset
one waits for the sunrise.

Like the bird that sweeps away
desperate to get away from the tree,
and the butterfly that rattles in its cocoon,
wanting to spread its colors, be seen,
like the paper boat, in its flimsy skin,
waddles down the bumpy watery lane,
I too only looked to go, leave,
I too only looked to escape.

The confines of the past were tight,
like the arms of a sweaty friend,
I did not like so much anymore -
no, I didn't like what the friend did represent.
And in those arms I wriggled and cursed,
no coffee bean or dandelion green
could surpass my level of bitter,
and curse I did,
foul, rank and obscene,
like the gory scene in a massacre movie,
I only slashed and whipped my arms around
to rent every shred of where I belonged,
not wanting to accept everything that I had been.

Self-loathing; in hindsight,
and with a dose of self-esteem,
seems like the mirror
you punch with your fist,
and when down your arm
the blood drips,
and even when your reflection is contorted,
you keep looking.

It seems like the shrill caress
of nails on a board,
it hurts your blood
and shakes your brain cells,
but you can't stop doing it
even you can't take it anymore.

So that sweaty friend released me,
or released myself when I flew,
up, away, so far past
everyone and everything I knew.

Only I walked into a cold river bed,
into a quicksand was where I had led,
sinking so fast into an abyss so strange,
I couldn't hear anything past my thoughts
that kept roaring in my ears,
"This was a mistake!"

Life has a tricky way of
making you realize,
wisdom comes after the pain,
truth only follows lies.
So I fell hard, and thrashed around,
looking for my friend's sweaty arms,
I wanted to be held, comforted,
I wanted to remember it all,
the ups and downs, the regrets and promises
I wanted to recall the good days,
I wanted to go home and course-correct,
I wanted to forgive, and learn to let-go
I wanted to mend my ways.

In the past decade,
I have stepped past
the metre of words,
and moved into colorful,
ornate constructions.

Come to use clauses,
taken grueling effort
to reason in taut,
but often found fraught,
elaborate expressions.

So is it any wonder,
I now find it confining,
after failed attempts
to stick to words that need
discipline, rules and timing?

It took a lot of courage
for this form of depiction,
without the cover of metaphors,
leaving little room for
mixed interpretations.

Now my tongue is loose,
and my fingers have found release,
so I shall explore this discourse,
and for a while set aside,
my want to write good poetry.

The only worthy qualifier
is hope,
everything else
in transient progression,
infinitevly split,
apropos.

I had a star (bright!)
which dimmed a little
some nights
I may have used it too much
on the twenty something wishes
I had listed (such a rush!)
Once the wishes started
to come true
not all (of course)
but a few
my star disappeared from sight
I dare not think it died
or that I may have killed
(noooooo!)
the star that had
made me wish.

You were my golden egg secret
the glass slipper is buried deep,
the spell I never said out loud
the kiss that bested even sleep.

You were the might of thunder
the sword that slayed all evil
the book that held old magic
the love that could turn lethal.

You were my Achilles heel,
the resolve that held me strong,
the arrow to my bow, bullet to my gun
you were my silent soul song.

You were an untold fairytale
and I may have ripped the chapter
that would bring you to life, this early demise
has now wrecked my happily ever after.

Flip the page
and write again
the story has yet
to find its end.

Turn the clocks
and save the bell,
there are many things
we are yet to tell.

Make those lists,
and keep them long,
they'll soon be forgotten,
we are not that strong.

Wish, dream, commit,
don't hold yourself back
may be you'll disappoint,
but yourself some slack.

There is magic in the air,
in every clink and cheer,
there is no room to despair
when it is a happy new year!

I thought I learnt
how to walk on them heels
with the risk of flight
and the shame faced plight
of knowing I could fall,
and the world will know it all,
but I thought I'd mastered the art
of walking on a difficult path,
with those heels on.

Apparently I had not,
so head over heels I went,
right into the circle of judgment,
and with my dark places exposed,
and the air on my face blowing cold
I just walked up,
and kept walking ahead.

With only a slight limp in sight.

I drizzle like rain clouds;
in a stormy weather I blow
might gusts of wind that rattle
and shatter staid glass doors.

Enough now of the molten sun;
no need for the lava that flows inside.
We are made of sterner stuff,
all we need is two plonks of ice!

Like the nauseating rumble
crawling up my throat, I glide
in the sheath of subdued sensation
all is well, all is alright.

edge of the cliff
melding shadows
of water and sky

the endless delight
in the freedom of flight
is a promise that keeps
when it is only done right

momentary wane
of the strength
I will reclaim

I want to hold your hand

surreptitious fall
of the might
that will rise tall

will you hold mine again?

It is after the fight,
and the other members
of the family,
ones without a heartbeat,
go quiet,
and there is a silence,
hesitantly found
discomfiting;
for we are used to
the bickering,
the nasty snarls
and grunts
snorts of disgust
and the occasional giggle,
always in confidence,
it is then that I realize,
it is only home,
when there is noise.

I can cry;
the glorious moon cheats
the dazzling sun wanes
the cloudy sky smirks
the pudgy earth refrains

I can cry;
the man in the sidewalk eats
the woman in bus denies
the children on the playground smell
the puppy on the stairway bites

I can cry;
the riddles in the book defy
the maze and mouse are a lie
the gun for a bullet doesn’t shoot
the whistle in my palm doesn’t hoot.

I can cry;
the thoughts in my head lead astray
the senses of my body can delay
the questions I answered gave away
the answers I’ve forgotten are a mistake.

in the darkest hour
there is the longest dream
but if only we could ever remember
how it ends,
it would seem,
there wouldn't be the need
to sleep.

His sigh stirred the leaves
and they played near my feet.
Every tremble of the wind
sent my way hints of lemon.

We sat there, next to each other,
in wait for something to happen.

My hair stirred, restless,
and his feet pumped and swayed
In silence, we danced,
came close and drew away.

The space between was quivered
every atom charged with need,
like two ends of a magnet draw near
we feared - the possibilities.

His fists remained on his knee,
my hands held each other,
when the bus came he got up,
and I watched him go quietly.

He turned then, after a beat
and our eyes said the same,
this would have been an inevitable story
and no, there was no need for a name.

It was better when I didn't know about you,
it was better, when my heart didn't ache
in the distressed night, you chased away
my fantasies with your face

I now have a name,
to cry out, and reach for,
while I draw a blank,
I have nothing better to dream for

more than my fantasies,
your reality I desire,
my prize, my possession,
my ever burning fire

It was better when I didn't know about you
It was better when my heart didn't ache
for with your smile, and unspoken eyes,
you took my heart away.

Hundred heads rolling in the dust
under a crimson sky
enveloped in the smell of musk
there stood I, victorious,
in a battle against my creed.
While I also lay dead
laden in white and a smile,
bittersweet,
losing my soul to greed.

There is no boundary
but only ego sheathed
in time,
the unparalleled truth
is a limited guideline.

And so I am false,
my identity only a clue
before the hourglass turns again
and fallen kings rise to sing
the battle won is reset
parodies made are not of me
the mirror reflects different things
scars whittle, memories mold,
and events I thought were nothing
now cost me more than gold.

The switch is mine,
but not mine to make,
but when it does happen,
it is for me to take.

Unless I roll the dice today,
and make a choice,
to only realize..
the hourglass turned
the wrong way.

They won't write songs about me,
they don't know enough.
There won't be monuments or effigies,
no plaque with my name,
they won't remember.

Immortality some crave,
and eternity they long for,
to make the earth always has a trace
of their lineage, bloodlines and all that.

I don't want to be humbled,
I am quite proud you see,
of what I've left behind,
my legacy.

I'll be the last memory before they stop,
the last break of smile on a weathered face,
after years and years have gone by,
they'll think of me, fondly,
when they look back at their success and glory,
like a quiet shadow in the corner,
will I stand, in sublime wait,
to be known as the one who made them
stand taller till their dying day.

You taught me to feel again
in all the ways that I'd forgotten,
I was sheltered in a cocoon
I considered could never be broken,
you proved me wrong
when you breached my shields
so easily,
made me set my guards down
so well,
that I never even knew
the person
who stepped outside

And now that you're gone
things are back the way they used to be,
I am up at night again
for different reasons
there is no song
that touches my soul
it is again a struggle,
to write poetry.

I don't know
if I'll ever be alright again,
I don't think I ever was
honestly.

Let's fall off
the edge of the page,
sail beyond the visible line,
leap from the end of the ledge,
sink into the ocean,
then sink deeper beyond.

Let's slip away
from the rim of the cup,
slide along the edges of ice,
tumble into blades,
roll with the flowers,
soar beyond the reach of the sky.

Let's find parts of ourselves,
nobody sees, hears or thinks,
burrow deeper into a new skin,
move away from what has been,
crawl into a place, so far away,
the past will never come around.

The vacancy
within my body
giving room
to laaazzzy
living

I need residence.
I want it to say,
"Occupied!"

I had a key I hid
in my bed, under my pillow
it rested,
perhaps often floated into my dreams
and nested.

I knew the lock it opened
I had it chained to a bed
worn my years and time
crimson rust it shed.

I handed out the key
and watched it plunge,
and unlock,
into the air flew debris
of hopes and dreams it blocked
with sparkles of magic
that it no longer sealed
leaving behind an empty space
now only to heal.

Perhaps I should have hid my key,
Perhaps I should have unlocked it sooner,

in many ways, the path to glory,
is disguised in wanton fears.

There are many ways to home,
some I've taken,some not known,
there are things I've left behind,
pieces of what was once mine.

In places, things and people;
carriers of my past,
there are questions I answered,
some answers took me far.

I had voices tell me things,
some nice and some withering,
in the silence they often got lost,
mine eventually losing its plot.

Funnily while the world is round,
life doesn't usually come around,
in its tumble and toil it's all well made
the mechanism for blinkers to fade

I have now the learned my mistake,
which I made, oh so often,
in my quest for the chosen one,
I left many locks unopened.

Sullen shoes and withered hats,
find revelations in dark corners
like a fairy tale, is also,
only the brave get the honors.

Whimsical
lips
and
closed
eyes
can
pretend
              the
              passing
              breeze
              is
              a
              kiss.
Lovelorn.

Is there any other drug
as potent as love
to transcend the boundaries of time,
and to ever match the shine
of a lit up Christmas tree
and spark like the silver strike
of a match that lights the sky
and the universe weeps
for you and me
who ache for an ounce of love
or enough to tell a story.

In a story so old, is a story of love told
as the little folks go nodding their heads.
A tale of a sin, it is has centuries been
the mystery that has, so many, misled.

Amidst the bristling leaves, to which they paid no heed
the lovers, they parried their foes.
In the wisdom of lust; for which one must crave so much,
the lovers, they deafened the shores.

The mighty they came, the mighty they slayed
and time whistled past them to flee.
It was a bruised sky that woke her,
and the weeping earth that cloaked her,
when she fell to knees and roared.

In a story so old, is a story of love told;
when purple mist dawns on us again,
about lovers who met, for those who forget,
that time doesn’t need to know tomorrow.

take a ride on a magic carpet
fly away from the little things
chase those whims and thrills
conquer dreams in the realm of kings

hold tight and find purchase
the ride down is no delight
the only way from up is down
to fall is the only way to wake

fly and make your own time,
bridge the chasm between the two
all of nothing is a principle,
afforded by only a few.

there are a thousand things unsaid
in the silence that follows,
when I tell you I'm upset,
and you leave me feeling hollow

after the countless ways I tried
to make you feel better
the comfort that I shared,
wouldn't have been, with another

a hug was all it would have taken
for me to feel like I'm not mistaken
to wear my heart open on my sleeve,
oh please just make me believe.

to be continued...

In dying embers I write my name,
in trodden paths there is dying shame
in the lingering minds of the days gone by
are tea leaves patterns in a language sublime.

Madness, like rodents, scurries in pairs,
when one pulls you further, the other despairs.
The voices I see and the faces I hear
are not real, but that is neither here nor there.

In the grooves between my split mind
there is a map of an eternal conquest,
it runs down to the corners
of this enchanted world,
and boasts answers to those questions
of which you've never even heard.

Look to the night sky
and watch the stars tell you
about me,
draw the moon out,
and I promise, I'll believe.

When the wind rustles,
look up and pay attention
to the leaves,
that's me trying to tell you
my story.

In those balmy sunny noons
glance at your shadow
twirling along,
an arm clutching your shirt
is how ,to you, I will belong.

When the winter fire crackles,
turn your head and watch,
the flames sway,
the heat that crawls up my spine
will keep the cold at bay.

In the garden of quiet,
sit down in the sea of flowers
and think of us,
the spray of my perfume
will then be found enough.

When the dark spreads
and the dreams beckon,
make haste,
through every waking moment
to see you again, I'll wait.

Three words.

Say them and it'll end everything
And begin something whole.
Tell them softly, whisper them to me
And I'll willing let go.
Write them down, if you fear,
And I'll always hold it dear.
Don't explain, don't justify
Give me those 3 words
And I'll be satisfied.

I don't care about your remorse
I don't want to know you regret
I just know that I am hurt
And it was by something you did or said

It is not about your intent,
It is not about my interpretation,
It is only meant to correct
This awful awkward situation

Allow me to move on,
And ******, you move on too.
Tell me "I am sorry."
And I will tell you,
" Me too."

Like ghosts they haunt,
silent but present,
eerily felt
strongly sensed
when remembered

the words, gestures
come rushing back
hazy faces
cold places

you think
you've left it behind
walked forward
have let it go

to only know
one blink is all it takes
one tear the only witness
one moment to completely shatter
to be afraid

you've made a mistake.

I chased down the bustling road
when I caught a glimpse of her walking down.
Today I stand, impatient;
my finger thumping a pithy tune,
as she climbs down the stairway,
one step at a time.

Time capsules are concealed
in objects that we rarely see,
and only notice when silence visits
and sits in the middle of the room,
unpleasently.

Today was on such day,
when my foot accidentally brushed
a tea cup that had bravely withstood,
the anomalies of my childhood,
and leaning back on its broken handle
took delight,
on my sudden emotional plight.

After years of unrelenting boundaries
the yearning to jump over,
turns into the ultimate goal.
Definace, with a vengence,
and fury so grave,
mars conscience by its senstaions,
makes it depraved.

Forgone was the leap
that bound my heart with rules
of love, loyatly and frienship,
for it now only understood,
the twinge of ache it gained
whenever it recognized,
a then familar face.

In a world fantastical,
there is order and right.
And mistakes are begotten
to only be forgotten
and set some memories aside.

I held my hand out,
on the last stair, she looked up,
and in brown eyes, just like mine,
I saw days that now defined,
our relationship,
as mother and daughter.

We talk of  far shores and setting sail,
with our two feet firmly rooted in the bay.
The anchors aren't pulled, the rigs aren't checked,
we are rarely ready, if ever,
at our fancy's behest.

In the seconds that she took to step down;
seconds in which I re-lived a lifetime,
I ran down the same road,
the bustling street with the same goal.
I held my mother's hand
and let go.

The veil is now unravelled,
the storm dust now blown,
when left with the calm after the storm
even deciduous time seems forlorn.
There is the perfunctory trial
of breathing air to sustain,
yet in the end, I revive what,
the beliefs I let go,
the conviction from which I abstain?
I then saw reason, in this miniscule delight
of finding a realm that is positively alight
with candour and supremacy,
they regale without caution,
and entertain as they must,
in words left unspoken,
they reveal more than just.
The truth though is bespoken,
within the confines of deceit,
while the soul hunts for absolution
the mind quakes in defeat.
Annihilation is the quest,
that brought me to this place,
the answer that will be found,
is am I in passing,
or here to stay?

I have the keys,
but I ring the bell instead.
She opens the door always,
peering from behind,
wary, irritated eyes.

He stands behind her,
holding a ladle, most of the time,
with a soft smile on the face
he greets,
which I meet,
then set my bags aside.

The living room is a tidy map
of corners sectioned as per need,
a corner to pray,
a corner to store,
a corner to watch TV.
Hidden inside drawers
is a room for memories.

But this is not where I live,
but away in a room confined
to sleep, dreams, and reflections,
and one black rectangle
that keeps me aligned.

It is my escape route,
from the noise the vessels make;
in the kitchen when they thump,
on the table where they clamour,
from chasing footsteps that chase each other
to and away in tantrums.

I have one window that slopes
towards a paradise that chirps and glows
I have a door that remains closed
to the only house that I ever had,
love, but cannot adore.

I restrict myself to that one room,
in the end, the darkened corner,
and pass through the clamouring kitchen
and the rumbling living room
every morning,
to step out of that door.

no cobbled stones
no ****** swords
just a bruised fist
a barrel of ale
and I'll set off home alone
leather boots
a winter sweater
to ward off the chill
that settles
I have no place
for remorse or sorrow
I have a life to build

I wish to get lost sometimes
just to have someone find me,
then I can, in a different way,
re-tell my story

I tumbled down a hole,
and found a barren land
ridden in a mist,
so thick,
I can't see my stretched hand.

There is no sound,
but that of my wary feet
trying so hard to find steady ground
while I step over debris,
so jagged,
I can't stop my ankle from turning wrong

The sky looks pale,
almost uncaring,
like it too withstood too much,
and time lies stoic,
un-moving,
it seems to have lost its two hands.

I feel no presence
of a lingering soul
but only of doubt,
like a constant shadow,
that I'm in a demesne
of someone else's dream
that has been left
long forgotten
and I am, now,
to seek.

I used to fear
things I did not know
feelings, people, places
cravings I buried low.

Kept away from the path
coaxing me to try a change
making me believe that different
may not mean so do away.

Resisted I did, defiantly
kept walking the path I chose
every stumble re-affirming
every loss a lesson, every victory a rose.

Trampled ******* misgivings
which clutched hard like roots
making me watch before I step
sifting fallicirs from truth.

Faced my fears I did anyway,
all the paths lead to one end,
armed by the scars of my journey,
experience, now my only defense.

Settle slowly in this time
with feelings, people and places new
peel away layers deep in my mind
and accept, I never had a clue.

If it is going to be
only a few chosen minutes,
I'll take it.
If it is going to be
only a few times in day,
I'll treasure it.

If I won't have your nights,
your voice deep in slumber,
your waking blinks or
the brush of your smiling lips,
but only,
your naughty grin,
your quick passing touch while you walk past
your easy stops by my desk
your eyes staring into mine for a second longer,
I'll take.

In that second, I'll find my forever.
And if that's the only thing I'll get,
I'll never let it go.

A galaxy of infinite stars,
the boundless stretch of green,
arms spread wide,
transcending dimensions,
that's how this wait feels.

Not second, or third,
countless chances,
of corrections, overwrites,
and destiny's edits,
let's term it a new beginning
and let go of the fear that
it is only the continuation
of the chapter you hate.

Like the spectrum of color
on every bubble that flies,
let us also look for magic,
in hollow ***** that hold nothing,
but only the reasons
we look for,
to survive.

The shadows change their length,
the sky changes color,
while my days continue to blend
and I can't tell one from another.

Days pass and nights end,
while I seem stuck between the two,
there is a pattern to my waking hours
and the few minutes of borrowed sleep.

I keep making the same mistakes,
sometimes feel like waking up is one too,
or may be it is in thinking things will be different,
when the sounds are muted, and the feelings few.

Being in limbo makes you feeling light,
like a fluff of down carried in the breeze,
but I don't feel light, I feel heavy,
like an anchor rooted to the bottom of the sea.

I have questions, oh so many,
but it is not answers that I am truly after,
I want to be un-stuck and propelled forward,
right out of this one, into the next chapter.

Do you think of me,
like I think of you?
Not in passing,
but with deliberation,
like coffee,
and groceries
and to-do lists.

But in pursuit
like happiness,
and ambition,
and balloons.

But with longing,
like music,
and books
and food.

But to no end
like time,
and life
and a foul mood.

Do you think of me,
like I think of you?

the horizon
claims its mortality
by consuming the sun,
the sky
pronounces its existence
by littering stars,

bound by no one
two infinites collide
ear-marking the spread of time
on a time sheet,

with grids and figures
and algorithms,
innocuously designed
to measure oblivion
set lucidly aside.

I tore you apart,
Because I wanted to bleed.
I battered you with my stinging tongue,
Because it was my pain I wanted to ease.
I punched and shoved,
Just to make my muscles hurt,
I bit and scratched and screamed
To remember that I could still feel.
Nothing was skin deep,
Not your scars,
Not my rage,
It boiled and sang
Deep within my veins
Like the bloom of the early sun
It only kept gaining way.
Love, so pithy a word
To describe the beast that takes control,
With each ******, jab and rent
It expands and widens its scope.
It makes me bitter and you weak,
It makes me docile and you my rock,
It makes me tremble and you my storm
It makes me destroy and you my toy.
Enslaven we are, to that chemical balance,
Swinging up, down, away and toward.
The pull and push of affection,
The hidden colors, left on simmer.

I'm afraid of the light
because I know what will follow,
I look at corners and worry
about what's hidden in hollows.

I fear climbing up too far,
for the fall down seems painful,
the endless spirals, the familiar ground,
just makes all things good more dreadful.

I feel dizzy when I look up too long
and I almost feel the earth give away,
every turn that doesn't bring doom
makes me anxious of the next day.

I know I can't keep staring into the water
waiting for the abyss to swallow it whole,
but every strike of a match is a reminder,
of how easily it can all go up in smoke.

I wake up with trepidation,
and a veiled sense of hope,
telling myself I've avoided disaster
telling my head, this is our new home.

It won't take me long
to rouse from my sleep
and awaken.
But I'd be leaving behind my dreams,
I'd be leaving behind
a part of me.