I wonder if our love excites the moon, and make the sky shy away from its grasp.
I wonder if they face over coffee cups, growing fond, while searching eyes, and calling it love.
I wonder if their love is sang around horizons by nightingales, or maybe trapped in an acoustic classic.
I wonder if they hold hands beneath the dark and cross arms around and above, through the time spent on this trail to compliance.
I wonder if they stop by and ponder over the ellipses of the milky way, or simply sit by the riverside amid the echoes of the cuckoo bird.
I wonder if our love excites the moon, if it embraces the sky with its gaze and make love through fears.
I wonder if they taste each other every morning and with each breathe, feel their own tongue.
I wonder if they are shameless in love, while fondling behind the clouds, gulping through an arousing rush of adrenaline.
I wonder if their souls are connected the way their bodies are.
And in the process, I wonder if their surfaces transition from dull to glowy, raw to moist, abandoned to lively.
I wonder if our love excites the moon, if it holds the sky on to its wrist and tells how much it loves him.
I wonder if they silently wish to spend the rest of their life together, even though they know they will.
And eventually, I wonder if someday, one of them would lean on their knee to do the necessary, then they rest together, happily and ever after.
I bless them to live a wholesome night, of the moon shining and the sky glowing in a world full of stars.
So I wonder if they haven’t dreamt of growing old together because, who hasn’t?
The faded color of words;
Turned dark, As the heart bleed;
Red for the epoch left;
As the soul caught in the swirl;
Lost to self; Down the lovely lane;
Ebbs of tears break the bridge;
As the echos got settled,
Deep down, Be the new zephyr,
Tunes in – The Solitude.
I have to tell you something,
But how do I?
Do I wear a nice dress,
To seek all your attention?
Do I pour in some wine
In the goblet you bought
What do I do?
My words aren’t enough,
They have never been,
With all the courage,
I muster and all the air I breathe
To be able to utter
What I must,
You, just hear,
In all these years,
Months, days and hours,
How have my words not convinced,
Your soul to listen to my voice
Which part of me will resonate,
Is there a part? Can you pick?
Till when will the shards of my dreams
Stitch your commands?
Till when will my wounds bleed?
Will my voice ever reach?
When my hollow present blows
The dying embers in the heart grate
A fond childish Cinders glows up;
The frozen black memory melts past colours,
A sparkle of rainbow recollections,
As I walk up on our trodden pavement
I saw a slash of sea between houses;
Thy red dress like a bright red boat
Sink in golden sand, blue fishing nets
Brown fort walls, green lichen beach;
My soul speaks, my lips moves
A frequency of meetings, a wave of hugs;
As I net to catch these moments
Like A street urchin’s yellow fists
Holding the rainbow in his tiny grasp
I’m held at gunpoint
and asked to kneel before their ideals.
A carcass of dreams sits at my feet
while I smell cannon fired at the misfits.
I am a casualty of society,
a silent defeat.
But today I stand up to their eyes,
my bulletproof armor in vice.
I am the rainbow that brewed in storms.
Warriors evolve from victims,
and if they trigger the fight tonight,
I promise to bring them war.
A treasure trove, for an ineffable mother,
I love thee only, -thou art
Alas! The world has decimated thy themes now that frayed!
Can I not look for some words quite impeccable and praiseworthy
To make vivid thy tender and cherishing,
Thy nature for thy children, thy luscious tonality in lulling them?
Can I not, by some figures construe
Thy decisive love I receive,
The riveting elation, so like to wondrous beat?
Can I not, by some similes, metaphors construe
Thy life sacrificed, in the long run of tendering a family,
Thy canvas so huge, Ah, all verses filled, can not express thy being.
So let me cease my lines this way-
Words can naught do,
But blithely gladden thee.
Do you know of the
City behind the clouds?
Where golden waters
fly in the sun of night
as birds with glistening
feathers swim by
across the fields of
soft, soft cotton balls,
baked ripe with the
warmth of the mist
that guards the
city like a secret.
Do you wonder
if it’s people, made of thoughts
also shift in and out of
reality like their city keepers-
one moment a dragon,
another, a unicorn,
a house, an ocean
a hallow, or nothing.
Do they laugh like the
sound of rumbles and
cry out big drops of rains,
and walk on air like magic?
Do you want to go
to the city of clouds,
where the floor
beneath your feet floats
over the world, and your thoughts
roll on the fairytales
of the horizons where your
dreams have lived,
That day I heard
teasing laughter of destiny
mimicking our ignorance and thought process–
our thoughts about past, present and future
in the book of life
depicting salty past, polished present
and wishing sunny future …
Why can’t we understand
that everything shall be in the dustbin of time
and in the paintings of creation
all would be collage of unfulfilled thoughts —
There would be only moments
and that too shall be in pyre of time.
One day God came down to earth
To test and bless people like us
It was a huge surprise although
We couldn’t still make out
he asked us to write our wish-list
And gave an hour to pen down
He said write as many wishes you have
You get everything you count
Everyone was busy in writing
Some in detail some in gist
You and I were never the less
We also opened the fist
And completed the string
Though was a difference in two
You wrote a thousand things
I wrote thousand times YOU!
The shadow stretches
on the veranda, looms large at your door.
The dusk. You look upon the void
behind the bars
of your window.
You deny being
yourself. Time shuffles seasons
over the lanes of stone.
The Diwali wicks fade
with the rangoli that is made
of peacock’s feathered tail.
It is evening
in your gaze. The birds beat
their wings in the thin
sky of your eyes.
Shadows envelop the door.
The echo of a knock hitting against walls.
Storms of heavy hail swarm
Every door of life
Under the floating clouds
But stones as a doorstep
Are seen nowhere
In wandering, wondering eyes
Except the soft flowers
Of hope, strewn
With spiky thorns of despair.
Dark times still hover
And howl with gnashing teeth
Pouring each moment:
A handful of blinding chillies
In the eyes of relief
With extra salt on the scars.
Peace cries in me, writhing
Behind the door —
The locked door of my mind,
Waiting for the furious winds
To calm down for all
And the final fall
Of pale leaves of grief
For a euphoric sigh of relief.
Whilst my journey to heaven,
I met a child named life,
who made a confession-
for how she made souls strive,
in order to triumph,
the battle against demise.
So I believed her lies,
and Ultimately began, I,
my journey with life.
Happily we started and promised,
never to betray even once.
But, at every obstacle, helping, she denied,
and I was left with options none,
only to survive, the betrayal,
given by life.
She was still the cutest face,
I used to look everyday and,
to whom I gave a smile.
But she always hurted me
more in a while.
So hence came the day,
When I can’t survive,
so I will leave her alone
But Will meet her enemy,
that now I will die.
There is a difference
being in love
and being a lover.
A differernce of charm
a difference of illusion.
Being in love is imagining
yourself as the lead actor
Being a lover is remembering
the dialoques and pulling off the scene.
One is heart
the other is heartbeat.
The map of India burns
with flames of passion
when fire is set
against mid-day. You search
the city, lost
in a mirage. The sun fumes.
There is only heat and dust.
The song of a Koel coos
from engines and smoke pipes.
Find yourself in the arms
of summer; a roasting
where the smell lingers
of flesh and blood
on muddy waters, and stray dogs
on leakage from gutters.
Summer shadows move
and float upon baked soil.
The wings of a fan persist,
unexhausted. Look out!
Through the iron grills
on the tongue of a dragon
is the boiling sun,
while, locked up, you dream
of rain and thunder.
He furtively glanced into her eyes.
And saw the myriad nuances of her
Enamoured satellites revolving around her
Dejected shooting stars burning out
in her pursuit;
Was there a place for him, he wondered?
There he was, in the centre
Brightest in the firmament;
Blazing as the Sun.
The something we had turned to
nothing too fast,
We were too busy in ourselves
for it to be grasped.
Now the love we nested,
Flew out like little birds,
You made me feel something,
but I can’t put it in words.
Thoughts wet and warm in solitude–
For mind has a trip down memory lane.
Heart pumps up the moments
In wavy flows of emotions
Feelings pour dampening the eye-wall,
As tears leak through the misty roof.
Palms wipe them off, the red clots
And hanky in hands hides the moisture
Under the layers of its folds
While smiles peep through the beads
Sliding their wavy blinder
Against the fluttering window–
Lo, grief retreats down memory lane
After it hugs the joy in my sighing heart.
Behold! Joy pops out naked of the closet
Casting off aside the old painful garb.
Eyes have a free soul meeting
With fleeting glimpse of the beauty
In a glamorous and gorgeous attire.
To the love it gives some sparks of fire.
Yes I can write a poem right now,
Without a pen I wonder how?
The words are streaming, my eyes are glowing
Living with the hope that the ink starts flowing.
Yes I can write a poem right now,
Without a Lover I wonder how?
With a thumping heart and a beating head,
The breath is low and the pulse is dead.
As seconds pass the agony keeps growing,
Hoping for the caress so the tears stop flowing.
Yes I wrote a poem right now.
Without a pen I wonder how!