The curtain falls....

An existence is a mere shadow
on a background curtain
called Life.

A shadow, we are, that grows,
attains its peak
and then fades away.

The curtain keeps wavering,
the shadow also wavers
along with it.

And then the curtain falls,
the shadow vanishes
somewhere in the oblivion.

Amnesia

In a world where Amnesia is
the commonest disease,
I am vulnerable too.

I might forget your name,
I might detach myself
from your memories.
But I know, howsoever,
badly I contract the disease,
you shall linger in my mind
like mist.

Blurred,disarrayed and vague
but still there...

Mist that shall never fleet.

Distances that grow

Some distances not only grow wide,

they deepen too,

forming gorges…

steep and impenetrable

Hurt me, if you will . I know, I shall be alright

Do you derive a sadistic pleasure
when you try to
excruciate me with your
harshest words?

Have you forgotten that
pelting stones at water
does not make any difference
even if you hurl those stones
with all your might?

A ripple , they create...
a little transient ripple
and then the stone
sinks, vanishes
in the Water's bosom...

Stay dormant for a while , Painter!

Don’t picture me any more
in your poesies.

I see a general sense of
monotony creeping in
your writes.
The same visage
drawn over and over again,
to an extent that now my face
looks lackluster.

How you beautify me with the
embellishments of your words!
Where is the soul that I had
fallen in love with?
Its just flesh and bones.

The more you draw me,
the more haggard I become,
the more arid does your painting
turn into...
Dull and bland!

Why are the colors subdued,
where is your artistic panache,
those careless yet perfect
brush strokes?

Why do you have to wring out
colors from your paint brush?
Trust your instincts,
they shall flow on their own.

Dip the brush in
the untainted color
of your pure love.
Shades shall drip like honey,
and you shall breathe life
into me.

I recede

While the world advances
on its temporal track
and looks for new ways
to begin,
I recede .

I retract my steps back
to bolt myself in
the dungeon of
his memories.

I abhor newness.
Call me archaic,
if you will .
But the fact is,
I am still his.

I shrink

Now that a somber evening

settles on me,

my thoughts move

backwards,

to the past.

As if a force drives them back

as if a vacuum within

sucks my thoughts in

and I shrink

I shrink so much that

I become dimensionless,

and weightless…

And then within no time,

I become a complete “Nothing”  

A hungry heart...

I thrived on your promises,

reveled in them.

Celebrated a life so complete .

Now that you’re gone and

your promises have broken,

their million shards scattered

on the floor,

I still savor their aroma.

Out of hunger, I consume

the tidbits ,

the little morsels of your promises.

But, my famished  heart , in its revolting

hunger still starves….

Blow the candle off

The candle burns
and melts with me,
diminishes as it fights
the darkness...

If ever you come to me,
and while you medicate my
burns with your healing touch,
don't forget to blow
the candle off!

Fragrance in oblivion

And how do you feel
when you see the lone
sepulcher there
with a withered flower
upon it?

The body is still fortunate,
it has a coffin to lay in.
How about the withered flower
that lies bare and dead?

Shall you take care of it?

Pablo Neruda taught me this...

Now that I see the sun kissing the horizon,

dissolving its crimson red , in the sea;

bidding the day, a loving farewell,

I peep out of my shell…

Now, that the worldly clamor

is subdued ,

I come out of my shell relieved.

I hear the waves,

dashing against the rocks ashore.

A euphonic percussion in the making.

Barefooted , I stroll along the shore,

feeling the sea kiss my feet.

A carnal desire,  forming.

As the night takes over,

I drench myself in

the lunar light.

I see the surging tides,

drenched in

their desire sublime.

Two desires tide high,

Mine and the sea’s…

2 different physical forms …

one solid and the other water,

tied by one common desire

to unite with one another.

The Lucifer

The Satan impregnated
a Lucifer in my womb.
Like a fetus , it grows,
and attains an abominable size.
Is it a Fetus or a Tumor,
I often wonder!

I breathe in,
but it is the one that
benefits from my inhalations…

It feasts on my soul,
leaving a hollowness within…
Decaying muscles and impure blood…
No soul…

When shall the Gestation period end?
Has it decided never to come out?
It gives my conscience
killing labor pains…

Once , I heard it saying ,
“Ma, I shall stay in your mind’s womb
and follow you till your tomb”..
I shuddered.
A diabolic laughter ensued…

A picture inspired this and I blurted it out

Now, as I grow old,

my body revolts.

See, how my skin

has hardened.

I wonder , if it shall

fall off like flakes.

How, I wish,

I were a snake..

I could have grown

a new skin then,

discarding off the old one.

Pity, it is… I have to live

with this bloodless,

wrinkled skin,

that emits  a stench of

dullness and  deathly pallor.

This was the same skin,

that I had once flaunted off

with flair,

people envied my white membrane.

Now, it is more like a rotten peel.

Look at my hair,

now a handful of

whitish strands

appearing like

an untidy cottony fluff.

It was once thick, rich and flaxen.

My eyes, have now lost their glimmer,

the bold glimmer of self belief.

Now, they  speak of my haggardness,

my regrets and my enduring failures.

Youth is diminutive,

it’s a phase that fleets

within years.

Senility takes over

leaving ghost memories of the youth

hovering around.

Here, I have this  

bowl of Elixir

that shall guarantee me

an evergreen afterlife.

I know, this poisonous concoction,

however, distasteful , it might be now,

shall grant me the boon of “timeless youth”

for I know that the soul never dies, nor it wears off…

Thus, it has no chance to grow old…

I added...

With time, I added years to my age,

grew some silvery strands of hair,

some wrinkles around the socket of my eyes,

a receding hair line.

Oh yes, I grew a skeptic mind,

a jealous heart,

an unshakable ego too

and a groundless conceit.

Yes, I did bring up, two children;

 untamed and maverick.

I added everything

except wisdom.

Like an Ostrich

A shelter , I seek,

in this sweltering

summery noon.

A shelter in your arms.

Like an Ostrich that digs its head

deep in the ground

at the slightest hint of danger,

I shall dig mine in your arms.

I seek a haven in you,

I shall drench you in my tears few.

My indulgence with a blank piece of paper

Tonight, I am engrossed in a blank piece of paper.
The nib of my pen longs to kiss its immaculate White
but the nib hesitates since
it doesn’t have a purpose to do so…
Yet, it sensually runs on the paper,
doodling some incoherent lines,
penning scattered words ;
some here , some there.
 The White of the paper has a secret untold,
my pen knows it...
It knows that the White of the paper
has a VIBGYOR concealed within.

The pen unearths the hidden colors
with its write.
Sometimes, it finds
a playful Violet,
sometimes an indignant Indigo
and then a flamboyant blue,
a peaceful green,
a bright sweltering Yellow,
a tangy Orange
At some times, it also renders it
a dark gory red,
a passionate red too.

At other times, the nib,
decrees all the colors
to stay in harmony
in a wholesome write…

Tear and Blood... Rip my heart apart!

Why do you differentiate between tears and blood?

They both ooze out of injuries….
One from injuries superficial
and the other from injuries within…
Apparent wounds shall heal,
the wounds “within” often go undiagnosed.
They are serious and fatal for the soul,
fatal for the very purpose of existence.

Tear is blood-- devoid of color.
Fundamentally, both are one
and the same!
Nomenclature doesn’t change
the nature.

Water, stay formless!

Water, you flow, frisk
and frolic about…
You relentlessly keep flowing
shapeless and formless…
That’s what you’re happy in.

But, once poured in a Vessel,
you submit yourself
slavishly to it’s command,
assuming it’s shape,
and strangulating your own desires.

Why do you compromise?
What stops you from breaking free,
I often wonder!

Let me put you on fire,
I shall set you free…
Evaporate like ether
and unite with air…

An illiterate heart

While you play with metaphors
to envisage me articulately on the
canvas of poetry,
I watch you intently
to color you with my
inarticulate love
through my eyes.

While you tie your love
to a meter and make it
dance to a poetic rhythm,
I dance tuneless and rhythm less
in my unfettered  love for you.

My love knows no bounds,
it gambols around,
like a child
in the wild.
It dances just
for the eternal joy of dancing,
taps its feet to the
inaudible cosmic rhythm.

While you sing a lyrical melody
in your poetry,
my heart hums a wordless tune
subtle and soft like a lullaby.

Over these years,
I could grow a literate mind.
But, I couldn’t grow a literate heart.
It still remains cold and indifferent to words,
but melts at the slightest gust
of a loving feel.

Words shall deplete with time.
Let your feelings talk,
for they are inexhaustible.

 

The Road

I am a lone weary road,
less commuted on.
I have ditches in between,
ruts of wheels
and some indelible scars.

I drived my commuters to their destinations
but I lost mine... Irony, that is...
I kept going, winding on corners,
finding my way through
places impassable,
but I couldn't find the place where
I was meant to go...

I searched , I searched for long
but I ended up at the crossroads
where I saw roads like me,
finding their ways to their
lost destinations...

I am tired of journeying
sick of walking
and now its intolerable
to be trampled on.
My chest pains.
My skin is losing its sheen.
I am old... wrinkled
Now I need some rest,
a peaceful solitary rest.