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!