Saturday, 30 August 2008


The lightning was about to strike.

Goose flesh, murmured the artist,
As he set his canvas ready-
To dip his brush in dream's ink
And to touch his lightning stroke-
Of wondrous art.

The lightning was about to strike.

Eclectic, he wiped clean the lens,
As he set the shutters open,
And zoomed his mind's eye
To capture that one streak-
Of sheer brilliance.

The lightning was about to strike.

Am done, his eyes twinkled,
A challenge, to the creator-
As he set his quill down,
A satiated sigh escaped his lips.
He looked up at the sky-
In loathsome contempt.

His eyes never strayed,
To glimpse the light,
Nor did his soul leap,
In unwavering excitement.
The poet, sat isolated.
He read out his mystic music,
To the silence of the night.

As thunder growled,
He raised his baritone voice-
Peals of his soulful symphony,
Ringing clear.
And as lightning struck, he called out loud-
His words bore the barcode of his soul-
In sheer invisible gold.
And, no divine trace could match his creation

The lightning had struck out, after all.

The Sepia Tones of Fear


The eyes blinked,
A state of frantic frenzied shock.
As the frame captured me,
I tried to take in a gulp of air.
As my eyes pried itself open -
The panic grew sharp,
Once again.


I turned round,
My eyes straying-
Urging itself to search out,
The source-
Of deep-rooted anxiety
That lay bared open
The photograph stained,
I held in my hands.
Observing the reflections
Of a maimed fearsome past,
I wondered-

Does the ghost of yesterdays
Love you, today?
Does the love of today
Wipe off the ghosts of yesterdays?)
I crushed the photograph,
Killing the sepia tones of fear.
Proud, I walked into today's still-
And I felt my heart skip a beat,
And a chill creep through me-

And, I lived it, once again-
The sepia tones of fear.
(Dormant, it remained in me,
Yet, never erased.
Never Ever.)


The clouds heeled a dance.

Wild and exotic,
The music psychedelic,
The beats loud,
And rhythm divine-
She danced her soul out.

A shade of dark,
Touched her cheeks.
A hint of turquoise
Turned color-
To a shade of emerald dusk
And it blotched a blush-
On her pearl white shine.

Teased and taunted,
By His loving gaze,
Did she blush-
I wonder?

The clouds heeled a dance, once again.

Drops of lovely love,
She smiled, ever so coy.

Friday, 29 August 2008


Thoughtless thoughts, so often
Cradled in my mind's eye-
I tried to give words to.

Borne by the zephyr,
Nurtured by the rains,
Coloured by the rainbow-
I held out my wingless words.

From youthful rendezvous of yesterdays,
To grayed memoirs of tomorrows,
I held the thoughtless thoughts
Wrapped in turquoise silken words.

And as it rained one more time,
I asked out loud-
Dissolved my thoughts
And wiped away my words-
Did you?

Friday, 22 August 2008

Pyre of Ashes

Let the light in,
And let the fire start.
Burn the soul dipped in dew,
At the sandalwood pyre.
Let the windows crash away
Certain blessings
Find home-
Crashing all the Windows.

Weary eyed, I sit back
And relief springs fresh
As my ears hear the clatter.
And the soul dances naked
In the burning pyre.

Can you smell-

Wednesday, 20 August 2008

Magnum Opus

Feeling the pin prick of scruples
The sharp thorns thrust
To fizz out-
Lifeless dreams.

Maimed dreams
They remain scattered
All over my courtyard.
And every time I step out-
I jump across the trinkets
Of my own desire-
Determination, at what expense,
I wonder?

And as the night sets in,
I cross the threshold
Towards the safety of home.
And my thoughts linger-
All over again,
On dreams lost.
Scruples that hinder me,
Why do I still prize special?

Magnum Opus-
Framed in beaten Bohemian gold,
I create a masterpiece-
Where in, I bury myself-

I felt his fingers burn my flesh...

I felt his fingers burn my flesh...

...and I remembered the first time-
The dainty reserve of a bride, I adorned
Stepping into a new role, a new hue
Cast all over me

The age lines that streak my forehead
Have embossed your name, don't you see?
The once soft, now calloused hands,
Have planted and watered you, to grow.
These lips have offered your parched soul- life,
And this heart has skipped beats, through years
For your heart to thud- the lubb and dubb,
Chiming in me, the peals

I felt his fingers burn my flesh...

...and I looked up, to meet your gaze
In the drunken darkness of the night.
Your eyes gleamed

As you ripped away the many-time-darned layers
Of our aged love- lynching at the lifeless body
That lay limp, beneath your weight,
I felt no more. Nothing of you could re-awaken me.
And once again, as you fell limp over me,
I heard the lubb and the dubb, no longer recognizable.
The new tune urged a drop of tear to trail down.
And it flushed out of me, your shade

I felt his fingers burn my flesh...

...once again.

Finding Love

The crowded railway station gleamed before my shining eyes,
As I trudged my way through-
Squeezing in.

The sweat broke, trailing newer paths over my supple skin,
As the summer noon poured her heat,
Drenching me.

The aroma of fresh brewed coffee streamed up my nostrils,
And I watched the froth filled glass,
Sipped hot.

I heard the corybantic chatter of the hawkers and peddlers galore.
And watched in awe- the little kids whining for toys,

My eyes strayed to the old couple, who sat on the farther most bench.
Sharing the newspaper sheets,
Ever so silent, they sat.

The young horde that screamed and laughed out aloud,
I smiled inwardly, for I could find myself,
In them.

I saw a family of five, the father hauling the luggage heavy
And the kids, all young, tagging along with their mother.
Anxious- they felt so dear.

Time sped by, I never did notice, as my heart leaped boundlessly.
And as I heard the train arrive, from across the distance-
I clutched my hands, tight.

My eyes sifted through the crowd that alighted, smiling faces many.
And then, as my eyes finally found you-
Time and space dissolved.

And all I could see- you, moving towards me, grinning your charming smile.
And as I stood inches away from you, I could see just us-
Non-existent, the world.

Wordlessly, I held your hand as we walked homeward, and I smiled spring.
There's nothing like being home, ain't it?
And for me, home is - You!

Sunday, 17 August 2008


The ink seemed too dark
To dissolve my fears.
Dilute the ink, I did.

A hazy swirl
Of color,
Smudges that ran into shreds,
Purl of interlacing strands.
An intricate diorama

I waited for the diluent
To evaporate
And the ink to thicken,
Capturing the Essence-
Of Life.

But, the Tears never did Dry.

Friday, 15 August 2008


When you walk away from me
This time,
The very last time-
I promise not to shed a drop of my love.
As you leave taking a chunk of me
With you,
I wonder would it suffice?
For I never can have enough of you;
And all you ask of me
Are memories fond
And plastic smiles of melancholy.

Autumn has stuck itself all over
Hasn't it?
The winding pathways are now draped
With the ambering maple leaves shed.
Mourning Autumn, seasonal is it?

As you drive away,
I sing out loud-
Goodbye, Love.
Random words stringed together,
An obituary note?

The maple leaves flew all over,
Whispering -
An obituary new.

Spring can't but wait, can it?

Ah! Freedom!

History repeats itself
Doesn't it, always?
Or does it indeed?
The age old charka remains rusted
In the cob web adorned room
Where the aura of a nebulous past hangs in.
Dust sprinkled patterns of today
All over.
My fingers trace the outline of yesterdays,
Through shut eyes and my open soul.
I force myself out on a walk.
Across the green pastures
I smell the trace of blood, shed
Once upon a time.
As I get into the bus, my legs tremble-
The humiliation of being chucked out
In the name of my skin brown-
A poke on my shoulder, and I reawaken
To today.
A ticket punched,
I stare away out of the window.
Getting off, I walk in-
The graveyard fragrance fills my senses
And I find the earth damp
With tears fresh.
My mind flew back to a time,
When the earth was fed
With tokens of her own flesh.
She seems just as melancholic,
My eyes are damp, I realize
And I walk back home, a quick pace.
The sky laden with clouds dark,
Threatened to rain.
I ran, ignoring the limbless
Crawling over for safety.
The potholes I crossed over,
Where the many trip and fall
Never caught my attention.
Atlast, I reached home
Sweaty and tired-
Water, I yelled for.
The ten year old errand boy came over
Offering me a glass.
Thirst quenched,
I tossed the glass to him
With no other word.
Independence, does he not deserve?
As the thoughts of today filled me up,
I lived the tyranny of yesterdays
In me,
And my plaqued mind shut itself close,
Slipping away into forced sleep.
Ah! My Freedom!
(Hard earned?)

Sunday, 10 August 2008

The dust rose, once again.

The ashen shadow you traced,
Into the folds of drunken darkness
The cloak fell upon you
One more time.

I edged my hand forth
To clasp you firm
And not let go.

The gale blew hard,
And I stumbled.
I caught the hem of your cloak,
But, slip away, it did.

I held open my fist,
To find the halo of night,

The dust rose, once again.

It blew all over
As night peaked its glory
Once again.

Friday, 8 August 2008


The oil swished and swirled-
Burning hot.
Spluttering a new tune,
It heeled a dance

The acrid smell new,
Spread across.
And I tasted myself in a puff-
Of noxious guilt.

Ah! It danced the way up my nostrils,
And the oil cascaded one last time,
And then silence fell-


The battered shoe I held in my hand
Leather aged, shredded threads flowing-
My needle moved in and out swift.
Darned, I held the shoe out-

The foot slid in and he walked away
Never noticing the trace of blood,
Oozing from my punctured fingers.

Nor did I let him know-
I had seen his calloused feet,
That never did fit in,

Thursday, 7 August 2008

Forever, Us.

The last time we sat
Hand in hand,
Slipping into each other
The silence of that moment
Spoke volumes
Delving deep into us-
Layers of waterlogged dreams
Peeled away.

Leaning onto your shoulder,
I sat-
Savoring your heartbeat
One more time.
As life splurged through you,
I felt alive,
All over again.

You hurled a pebble into the water-
The ripples shook me awake
From my reverie, pensive.
I looked up
And found not you, not me-
But just,

Together, we weave not dreams-
We build life,
From you and me,
To us, and ours.

And as I let go of your hand,
I know-
Its for us.
And I know, your hands will always reach for mine-
If not now,
Another day-
It is just a matter of time.

And I know-
We'll survive,
For each other's sake-
If not for ourselves.

Ain't this Love, my Dear??

Sunday, 3 August 2008


The distance grows
Waking up at different sides
Of the cozy bed,
Courtesy demands a helping more,
Of toast and tea.
Steaming hot, it lay forgotten.
Mask faced we walk
Amidst all the clutter.
The keys click at odd times,
And the night sets in
With a rhythm alien.

As the cold night grows
We tug at the woolen blanket,
Vehement, the pull.
As realization dawns
We turn onto our backs.
And the distance grows-

Saturday, 2 August 2008

The Conch

The conch dribbled life.
Her music, spreading mirth
Across oceanic depths,
Sweeping away the blues,
Of life's crashing waves.

I dived in deep,
To gather the shell-
Dripping wet, i walked over
To the sandy shore,
Where I sat,
A pensive of thoughts
Streaming in.

Placing the conch to my ears,
I rocked myself to sleep-
A blissful symphony
From across the horizons,
And I heard
A billion stories

And, added mine
For your ears to relish.
Maybe, sometime.

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