Fallen leaves

A withered oak leaf often weeps in...
Not for separation from the tree so much
As for the change in the eyes of the master
The leaf cared, nourished & pampered, till yesterday
Subject to trample and strangle of today
Not that its beauty has faded
Nor because its elegance has receded.
"Hey the withered, trampled and strangled!!"
Mocked the majestic oak each day at the fallen leaves
"I am the Victor, the master of the day
And you the silent onlooker....."
The fallen leaves wept in silence
Till the day when wind flew them to distant land
They declared " You are mistaken dear friend...
You have no clue as to what I can be"

I can make my footprints over the clouds
I can borrow the bird's wings to touch the sky
I can steal colours from rainbow for myself
I can reach the rain drops to sip water for myself
And when I die I can help another tree grow.

And You- my friend are merely a tree, a thirsty oak
Bound by myriad inertias of life
While I am a dream, I live for a dream
And can die for one...

As you pack my bags, Mom
Wrap an ounce of Faith too,
The One You have in me.
For there are times,
When you are not around.
There's dusk, twilight and
Gloom
And that innocent bud fears to
Bloom.
Darkness keenly creeps in
And sunshine witfully shys away.
Goodness faints and
Wickedness prevails.
I begin to stumble and fumble.
I (unfortunately) begin to resemble
All but myself.
Then I shall secretly open my bags
And cling on to that ounce of faith.
I tell you Mom...
I tell you, for sure
I will emerge a stronger being
That day
I will be myself
That day...

Oh Friend!!
You are an orator...an orator par excellence
When you speak you leave most of us spellbound
You counsel- of failures, of breakups, of despair
You talk and talk unhindered
Expressing the sad You, the happy You
The confident You, the not- so - calm You
The assertive You, the submissive You...
But tell me one thing
When was the last time you talked to yourself
When did you share your sorrows with yourself
When did you last introspect about life
When did you sit with yourself for a cup of coffee
When...my friend...when ?

The Fears that keep me awake overnight
The Inertias that want me to stay still, always
The Dilemmas that make me a prisoner of indecision
The Hitches that say "Oh!! How can you do that"
The Inhibitions that pull me backwards
The Fallacies that prove me wrong, always...
I shall win you all with my ink...

She would often keep a bunch of carnations
Every morning, by her bedside,
To remind her of the beauty of nature all around.

She would also place an hourglass
Everyday, at her work table
To feel the sands of time slipping through the fingers

She would also light a lamp
Every evening, in front of His idol
To see these lights spread into her life

But
This is the 'forgetful Her'
Sometimes she would forget
The carnations
The hourglass and
The lamp

What she does not forget is
The dreams...
The broken dream
The utopian dream or
The dreamy dream

She would settle a bundle of dreams
Every night, under her  pillow, without fail
To remind her of the elegance of her thoughts and
The charisma of tomorrow...

I wanted to be a musician
Compose the Punk, the Goth and the Rock
And leave you mesmerized, all the times
But the strings, the chords and the beats
Refused to befriend me.

Then I wanted to be a painter
Bring myriads of hues on an empty canvas
And leave you bewitched, all the times
But the colors, the brushes, the strokes
Refused to befriend me.

So I decided to be a writer
And express my heart out
Everything...
Agonies, ambitions and aspirations
Fears, fantasies and fallacies
To create a symphony, this time with words
That appeals your mind & sinks into your soul
To paint caricatures, this time with words
That is a treat for the creative You

My writings have not won any laurels
But that does not mean it's all in vain.
If you can listen to this music
And relish these paintings,
I made with words
My job is done
I have become a musician and a painter too.

Sometimes...
It is so very wonderful to be lost
To be lost in the wilderness of woods
And confide one's deepest secrets
With the rustling leaves
To chat for hours and hours together
With the inquisitive woodpecker
To engrave the Odd Old Oak bark
With those unspoken dreams
To laugh aloud
With the exotic orchids laughing in company
To weep openly
With the giant Banyan caressing your soul
Sometimes...
It is so very wonderful to find yourself...

What a combination!!
Thirsty trees,
Drizzling drops,
Tantalizing twilight and
A Dancing dove.

What a combination!!
White paper,
Black ink,
Poetic lines and
A World of thoughts.

What a combination!!
Leisure time,
Frosty winters,
Hot coffee and
An Enchanting book.

What a combination!!
Dark night,
Gleaming Moon,
Autumnal breeze and
A patient ear.

What a combination!!
Small Eyes,
Big dreams,
Undying spirit and
A pinch of faith.

It all reminds me of You!!

I do not ask you for a better life
Neither do I ask you to bless me with all the happiness
I do not crave for the entire wealth of the world
Neither do I have the longing to be a super power
Places I have been to many, things I have seen plenty
I adore all but wish for none…..
All I wish you to give me is the strength to tread a path unchartered
To follow an oft-travelled road is not my idea
I want to sing a song yet unsung
I want to give my soul to dancing
but the dance shall have no precedents
Music, I wish to play
But the notes shall be mine, just mine
All I do-good or bad, pretty or ugly shall be truly unique
Shall be mine……
To step into other’s footprints is not my philosophy
All I dream is to create footprints….
footprints of my own.

I write of
Nature, Music and Tranquility
Faith, Belief and Humility.
But when it comes to beings,
Mom!! You are the only subject, I have.
Poems, Proses or Paragraphs.
And very oft I wonder why??
You're just a plain folk!!
That Common appearance
Those Simple Attitudes and
An insignificant existence,
For the world at large
Then why...
Why do you invariably steal the mind.
I ponder...
Perhaps, because, in this world
Where people fail to listen to their own hearts
You fathom my heart,a bit too fast
Where people don't gather the words I speak
You hear even my silence, that too so well
When the world mocks at me, a bit too loudly
You're there to laugh with me, far more louder
And what appeals me the most is...
Where each being owns many a masks
You, at all the times, are always 'You'
And nothing else
Making my writings relevant
Today,
Tomorrow and
Forever...

Wounds, Scars and Bruises
She despised them all
For they tainted her beauty
This was youth.

But age taught her several things
Wounds, Scars and Bruises
Were okay if they appeared
Only on the skin
This was middle age.

For wounded heart,
Scarred soul and
Bruised relationships
Ached far more.
This was maturity

Poetry springs,
Sometimes
From broken wings,
Shattered dreams,
Bruised knees and
Crippled hopes

While at other times
From joyous highs,
Victorious tunes,
Long- stretched smiles and
Reaffirmed beliefs

But the finest of the poetry emerges
From the darkest of the nights,
The toughest of the terrains
When any light seems impossible
And the only light,
The only hope, one has is
A pen in the hand
And poetry in the mind.