Friday, December 31, 2010
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
a small roadside joint;
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
for our evening walk
to read together lies hidden
behind the bookshelf,
on the veranda,
do not let me die.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
by the cruelty of toil.
now, the hollow husk of humanity
mocks at us!
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
The tear drop that I shed for you;
a decanted dew drop
hovering at my eyelash;
I hold it in my palm,
a tiny crystal dome,
ephemeral in existence,
fragile and tender as a sparrow;
yet how it contains
decades of merciless memories
and monumental moments torn from history,
a colossal heap of ache,
an ocean deep of longing,
some bruised dreams,
a vast echoing silence,
countless incoherent sobs,
long lost trickling laughter,
and a profound life-long love,
imprisoned in that petite sphere
of my sad tiny tear drop!
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
I have a small room within myself
plush and posh
disposed with all the amenities
I sit in that room and
hear the temple bells and
feel the dawn opening its eyes in a prayer.
When the goings get tough,
and the pathway appears rough;
when the outside gets cold and frosty,
and the world seems menacing and beastly;
when I feel a deathlike pain in my veins
and a dense fog of fever in the clouds and among the rain;
when doubts and dismay like a river and a rivulet flow
and deceit and debauchery crawl and sneak in every furrow;
when the earth’s crust sobs and shakes in failure
and I feel the tremors of a strange ache
in my awareness, for sure;
when dreams and desires get scared
and blood drips from Sun’s wound, bared;
I escape in to that room
filled with white light and
a warmth so sublime;
my own space
keeps emitting a new found vigor
that tells me that
sometime…. very soon ..
in a moment blessed,
I will be able to begin where forever ended.
Pray I must.
Hope I must.
For nothing is lost yet,
Monday, December 6, 2010
I have already lived many lives,
many new beginnings and
just as many ends.
I am reborn many a times; each
from the old ashes.
a birth, a whole new cycle;
a death, a silence of promises beyond.
All that I carry are the
remnants of a handful of moist memories
like a dry, old, forlorn leaf,
kept inside the pages of a book for ages,
and now all it contains,
is a colorless skeleton presence.
I keep that leaf
in between the lines of my poem,
among the layers of my smooth melodies,
some or may be just one of you
would recognize its long forgotten, lost color
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Two little elves
sat on the tree top
painting the leaves
in bright red tinge.
They took care and toiled
to color every ridge and
tint every tip
with a scarlet rain.
And then the sky blushed,
and the garden air flushed,
they tumbled down
and it was a Fall;
hey! my garden was covered
in a vibrant shawl!
The fallen leaves rustled and whispered
as the two elves tried to hop faster,
bringing forth a mellow pause
and an insight
between a scorching fiery tongue
and a cold winter frost bite;
their cheeks tomato red, they giggled,
they danced, they rolled and they jiggled,
then the cherry leaves murmured
about a new beginning and a future.
Dear Elves, is it because I couldn’t reach you
that you came down to my garden
with all blood and burgundy hue?
May be, like me, you have been lonely too?
Or perhaps, you brought another spring
for every leaf was a colorful flower anew!
Dear little Elves with your tiptoe and tango
You taught me to
smile and let go!
Thursday, November 25, 2010
I have forgotten to take care of my mirror!
The mirror on my bedroom wall has cried for long now,
dejected, unattended and forlorn.
Suddenly a truth dawns
that it has been decades since I have noticed her;
Time, indeed has elapsed!
The remnants are
those scary dark circles beneath the eyes,
patches of aging on the forehead,
certain black spots that might not be on the surface
yet has started to grow from within
where a peeling off has taken place,
instead of that olden glow and
that strange familiar proud lift of the jaw line
which, now, is seldom perceived!
The mirror at present stares
with a tired disheveled look.
Will you forgive me, O Mirror?
I got busy walking the long roads,
carefully skipping and jumping
the potholes and the ditches,
hurrying up in bents and curves and forlorn alleys,
with such utmost care and caution
and I forgot you!
Now, when I have come back after toiling the day,
stitching up every hole and knitting together
every unwanted rip,
hemming the corners that so very often protrude,
striving to unfasten the tangles and knots,
weaving a patchwork,
painting a collage,
painstakingly making an effort,
so that the colors don’t smudge,
wiping away neatly all unwanted blotches or smear,
now that I have come back after toiling the day,
I find my mirror
with a choked longing and
a smothered dream
and some extinguished hopes.
The distance between me and my mirror
appears unfathomable, a void that quivers
so palpably yet so subtly in between us.
Who is it
What is it
I was seeking,
that now, my mirror seems to be
an absolute stranger to my own self?
Friday, November 19, 2010
My neighbour’s cute, furry little cat
is moody, and prefers a decent polite pat.
You aren’t allowed to ruffle her tresses curled,
she is forever complacent and smug in this big cold world.
Impeccably groomed, gracefully beautiful,
she is a coquette with only a few wrinkles!
She doesn’t sleep anywhere, just any table or any chair,
only a cozy lap will do and that too if she’s invited with care.
Her tricky maneuvers defy the law of gravity,
she would easily boast her majestic charm and her suavity.
She is immune to flattery and mostly prefers to purr and whine;
She yawns at your crooning, strides away bored, with a pride I can’t begin to define.
She never bothers to catch a rat or a mouse and that’s her mystery;
drudgery is not for her, you will have to serve if and when she’s hungry.
Rushing to kitchen, I see her licking her paw in poise, without any ado;
she renders a look that says - Yeah I drank the milk and slurped away the cream too!
Do never make a mistake of being angry for she just doesn't care;
In front of your haughty temper, she will coolly pad away with her dainty tail in the air.