He was a blank book.
With my ink of sonnets,
I gave him a story,
syllables full of stars.
I made him
readable, interesting, intriguing.
But, the last thing that ever crossed my mind,
was that sitting there,
on that shelf, I also made him
It's such a beautiful word
Giving an illusion so strong you might truely believe you are done.
You are no longer sick;
You are in remission.
You are on pause.
You are in a peaceful
I gaze empty out of the window
There's a cat watching the birds from the root of the tree.
My doctor keeps talking in the background of wind, beauty and heartbreak.
It's aggressive this time
And all I can think of is how I am empty
My poet is gone
And both physically and emotionally
I am dying.
I am a paling star to be washed out
In the dazzling brightness of the arriving dawn
A calendar that ran out of time
A broken guitar with strings loose
I will soon exit out of life
Like a man hardly anyone knew existed
And only very few would miss
As I look back to the prime days
I feel years have flown away in a flurry
Like scraps of paper whirling in the gale
A dense fog crawls up into my eyes
The verdant vistas and smiling faces
Have discoloured like weather worn paintings
The violet shadows of red rocks
Form a dark cave within me
Nothing subsists in the dells n’ hollows
Of my memory
I wilt under Age’s burning breath
And wither under its deadly blight
Now I drift... a rudderless vessel
Through unknown waters
Waiting at the Departure Lounge
I now have only one prayer;
Don’t let me scorn and disdain the young
Whose sky is wider and dreams endless
Who walk with nimble feet and sure steps
To conquer the world that has left me a scrap!
Babe, I look at the moon
And see your silhouette
Your largess strewn
Your presents beset
You have a gift in store
On the very top shelf, you
Between us the rain pours
The face of the moon blue
Still, inside the box I yearn
Past the ribbons of tears
To where your heart burns
Embers smoldering with fears
My heart wants to take you home
On a wave that curls forever
Among ebbs and tides foam
The good and bad weather
My eyes look up at the night sky
Darkness cloaks the ambient light
Your silhouettes escaping my eye
In eerie silence I sat that night
Was my mind playing tricks on me
On a crescent, I imagine your echo
Becoming smaller and smaller to be
Your shape now a dot that let go
Many moons have pass and I cry
Lost sparkles you brought to my eyes
In my yard stands a tree
tall and sturdy
lone like a hermit,
regal like an empress
her roots dug deep
her branches touching the heavens
peeking behind the skies veil
She has a coy dalliance with the Wind
Sometimes he comes tickling
her tender parts, whispering
sweet nothings in her ear
Overall she is still
like waters without ripples
She stands upright
brooding over the saga of struggle
from a sapling to a towering giant
Indeed a tryst with destiny!
Under the summer sky
braving the smarting beams
she remained uncomplaining.
Below the thundering clouds
bearing a thousand needle pricks
she stayed nonchalant.
When the wind swept across
bending her branches in all directions
she stood on firm feet unwavering.
She tells a tale of struggle and survival
She had stood there before I was born
Now she displays every scar and every stripe
on her knotted bark as a proud trophy
Sometimes I feel her pain
when wet and dripping in pouring rain
or scorched in the sun’s fiery rage
Yet she holds an umbrella over all
who come to her in sun and rain