While the swindler burnt my cheeks with
its sumptuous golden glow
I changed sides back and forth
for a while I was in shade
hugging memories sheltered the autumn skin
while the seasons played
The silken locks refused to listen
falling like cascade disturbed the rhythm
the song of past struck
few strings in galore
the beats struck the chord
and music echoed.
The Rainy season- A random musing
Like the beautiful flowers of palash, popularly known as fire of the forest, I was burning . The inner turbulence like the upheaval of tides made me rise and fall against the heavy rocks of life.
Had the shore been sandy ,I wished to have laid myself on the shore surrendering to the splashing waves of a sea,but nonetheless,it was n’t such.It was rocky.
Life isn’t what we dream and wish for! We have to create a path to realize this dream and then walk on it ,many a times getting pierced by innumberable thorns .
The fragrance which disseminates in the atmosphere is usually of the wild flowers growing on open meadows and hillsides, those which bring freshness in life and also in the monotonous mundaneness. Pruned, I loved watching birds flying in the sky, they seemed to be so happy, free and delighted ,marching towards their goal . Their wings unfettered and whistling to their favourite tunes they sang whenever they wished .
A sense of freedom filled the heart and I wished I could fly thus like the wading birds.
The riot of colours in the evening sky brought more nostalgia as I walked towards the mound on the top of the mountain. This rainy season, nothing had changed.
Sneak I through the silence
shearing the quiet fear ,
As I shred
filaments of pain in pieces and bury deep
in gravels of past .
The new saplings of hope grow and flourish
blooming cluster of flowers
few sprinkling drops rejuvenate when they are about to die
Tis law of nature , I , mere the gardener
Come ,lets drown the precarious apprehensions
And live freely to create murals as
your words pierced every vein
and I saw the lost moment again
In dust I vanished
you in the dew of time
both in opposite directions
but hearts connected for lifetime
with a sigh,
the hope dawns with every morn,and sets
in the night dark
a moment to be together
leaving the world aside.
In the backyard of her mind’s garden
Where grew thousand lilies
On ransom were few flowers…
may be some Desires unseen…
Oh! She knew it wasn’t easy
She struggled all through to barter her dreams
Breathing some fresh air she stumbled intermittently
While the rocky terrains kept throwing obstacles
Now,what next?She kept thinking
“Do I win, or I lose
am I on the right way or the wrong
my soul away on an exile
what’s the predicament
I tried again, I tried my best...
I will again until finally I’m put to sleep in the grave
Thence shall the soul rest"
Until the pen has inscribed thoughts
Until the sky has been painted red
Until the sea sings my lore
Until the river takes my breath to it’s door
until few daisies sprung on the soil
of her garden
Until the veins have drop of blood to shed…
I can’t let it die
The solitary poetic sigh
Which breathes in minute pauses
Betwixt the gaps of worldly duties and entangled chores
Neither let it suffocate in the fumes of intoxicating insecurities
Nor allow the pangs of survival and existence wipe the ethereal pastels
Those vernacular treasures fastened securely in caskets of thoughts
Transform as they rise and glow as embers in the sky to twinkle till ages eternal.
while I lie numb next to the
corridor of spring
where sings the cuckoo
whence the loving breeze slips past me
Melody of spring, a sweetness splendid
Here I lie
near the gates of morn
while sleeps my companion
behind the sun near horizon
I watch the blooming lilies,
their smile ,so intoxicating
…fragrant bunches of love in extravagance
Here I lie near the window of hope
within the bars of life
caged is the soul
I witness the mystic creations
the tranquil river knew my lore
that flowed beside your cottage
while mesmerized tall conifers
overlooked the minute gambles
near the mountain door .
Here I lie in fragments,
gathering bits to create a new mural
brushing colours picked
from nature to the
once dead existence.
donning a mask,
like on stage , they believed
world is surely a theatre
and we the actors…
forget they while
running through script of the legend
the ink flowed out of incontinence
behind the curtain ,
exists the real
curtailing while shaking hands
endless follies,what true nature
hath a human displayed
weeps the soul under the canopy of body
in large measures
masks attractive, masks colourful
Halloween allows phantasmagorical faces
yet every day isn’t Halloween
forgets the human
switching masks umpteen.
Dried , my ink with the dryness of my heart
bloodless have been my veins
thus the pen moves empty
scribbling lifeless words
swiping away desires ,
the heart stranded bruised and over bruised
with thousand wounds..
No, blood can’t be infused back
I run incessantly with blemishes