1. The Bride
The kohl in the moist eyes spreads on the face.
The eyes remain lowered with silent grace.
Time is held behind the curtains of the eyelashes.
The path of henna is traced across the lines with unknown faces.
The anklets that sing a rhyme of a new song to be sung.
The lingering smile on the lips in anticipation of the journey begun.
The flames that cast a glow upon the face of the bride,
The witness of oaths to be taken in the chasticity of the night.
Chants that dance in the air that plays with her hair.
At the back of her mind rests a silent prayer.
Restless Ocean of the turbulent memoirs of yesterday,
converge in the stream of the colours of today.
2. The Shoelace
I bend down to trace their path under the bed.
I decide to crawl on my knees to search for them instead.
Hidden in the corner are the hideous little brats.
Torn black shoes that have been there somewhere on the racks,
since I was a brat too.
I have grown up with time that is true.
No longer I struggle to tie my shoelaces,
having greater struggles in store the world of ruthless faces.
While tying the laces a tune once danced on the lips of a child,
in anticipation of a sunny game of football in the wild.
The tune still descends down my lips to walk with me once again,
when I remember those good old sunny days in the blue days of the rain.
Today with tears of nostalgia I take out the shoes from their hiding place.
Once again I play with the memories of the good old days.
I could run many a races in the shoes of mine but I am left behind in the bigger race.
A derisive laughter escapes my throat as I fiddle with the shoelace.
3. The Vicious Cycle
Does the prey await the encounter in silent acceptance?
Does it get startled with the rustle of a grass blade?
Does it fix its curious gaze upon its prey in the dense?
Under the afternoon sun of fear, is the madness to overpower swayed?
The vultures await the stench of raw blood on the bare land.
The discoloured pages of the day would be flipped any moment.
The bloodshed trickles down the scarred as adamant nature refuses to take a stand.
Will the vicious cycle for the survival of the fittest ever end as the vice fails to repent?
4. I Am A Writer
I am a writer, merely a pauper of my own desire.
Neither do I hold the power to alter the course of destiny,
nor do I have the ability to conspire.
I have scribbled many a words, I have etched many fragments from memory.
I am labelled as a dreamer, but a dreamer unabashedly lives within everyone.
An innocent dream caged by many, but I am away from reality they say.
I am blamed for being lost in the world of my creation.
But am I the only one searching for a refuge from the unfair games that we unfortunately play?
I might not run in the race for a name, I already have one.
I may not be crowned
a winner but I compete with my own self.
I prefer to stand firm on my ground to retrospect as I witness the players on the run.
As I walk on in the factory of life, with a pocketful of hope I lend a hand to help.
5. The Playground Of Childhood
I played in the playground of my childhood,
in my compound of land.
Behind the shelter of the logs of wood,
I crafted my own castle of sand.
The jealous wind tried to blow it away
but I embraced it close to me.
as the wind subsided, triumphantly I ran back to play.
from my see-saw, a tragic sight I could see.
my sandcastle was tumbling down.
I could not become a worthy soldier,
but I surely knew that I would have lost interest in the crown
when I would have been a day older.
The sun went home so it was time for me to do the same.
I bounced my way back without any sorrow.
For a new game of hide and seek, the sun would join me tomorrow.
I dreamt this dream through the eyes of a child I once knew.
He once again taught me to celebrate every approaching day.
with chapters of time I thought I had grown up too,
but, life has its own way.
6. Teacup of Life
At the bottom of the teacup of life I lie as a tealeaf.
When put into hot water I selflessly give away my colour.
Colour me the colour of life as I brew into tea.
As someone relishes the taste let me also savour
the endeavour to add flavour to every season.
As my heart compels me to celebrate life without any reason.
Sip the tea and add colour to me.
Let me remain not merely a trace but every smile that you see.
As you cherish this mere thought I rejoice.
As you lived for a moment with a sole colour of your choice.
I cannot be the rainbow but spare a moment for me.
Sip in the present for a tomorrow as delicious as it can be.
7. Dying Life
With the blink of a moment a breath comes to life
and life itself sits for a while breathless.
As it is absorbed in by the innocent eyes.
Unaware of the dying humanity the life remains speechless.
In the new beginning merely a beginning of the end lies.
Before those smiling eyes learnt to shed a tear a conscience died.
The eyes closed forever yet no one cried.
8. Prisons of The Mind
Am I outside or am I within,
I ask myself as I peep through the bars.
Did I really ever try to decipher what I saw,
as with my head up in the clouds I caught many a stars.
I merely looked around searching for the keys,
when I was only imagining the bars.
I could have chosen to tread on the ground
but my sight was fixed on the stars.
Wish I had found what lies within
if I had not only seen through but beyond the bars.
I am the believer and I am the achiever
As I would aim for the sky I would catch the stars.
You dream a dream and so do I.
Let us be the change as we break the bars.
9. Omnipresent
The sun that shines above and the stars sublime.
The entire galaxy on the celestial platform.
The celebration of life that dances away the time.
The sole creator and destroyer of form.
Alive as eternity yet neither born or reborn.
The pure moonlight filtering through the clouds.
from the first ray of sunlight at dawn.
Embodying truth till the end.
God blooms amidst the thorns of lies as omnipresent.
10. Behind The Fringe
Behind the fringe I flip the pages of my eyelashes.
The old paint is chipped off as mascara flows across my cheek.
The funeral of desires left behind ashes.
And I was labelled by the crowd as a freak.
The voices in my head walked away once.
So, I walk in their search on the noisy shopping street.
The shocking pink I wear shouts that I am not like you.
With the swivel of my waist the heels hurt my feet.
As I dig the nails painted black in my fist.
the sight of blood makes me weak.
In the blaring noise I dance away the night.
The noises of the discotheque never fall asleep.
I had set out to differ but all seem to be the same around me.
Am I everyone whom you meet?
Am I what I seem, am I a mask that even you hide behind?
Am I a mere commodity in the shopping street that I have put up on display?
Am I bitterchoclate or am I truly sweet?
Or am I a small wish that wants to be fulfilled no longer weep ?
11. Attachment
Breathing with the heart that beats around me, I lie.
With eyes closed I know I don’t need shelter from the cold within the warmth.
Attached to a life I live my entire lifetime,
until the lifeline is cut away to introduce me to wrath.
Visions unknown, voices unheard all around.
As the connections are severed Attachment takes a form unthinkable.
Detachment attaches the newborn to a life outside newfound.
Whether a speck of dust or a snowflake only a speck amidst dilemmas uncountable.
Into the arms of my world I hide so small yet sublime.
Dive in to face the sea of faces with a finger held in my hand.
That grows in as my roots as I grow up with the wisps of time.
I often reflect whether the foundation wherein my roots grew stronger was merely sand.
The sand that drifted away with every step on the path that I was meant to choose.
Devoid of my identity I have nothing to lose.
In the rain of tears amidst the clouds of doubt I am writing on blotted sheets,
a story untold a story of lost streets.
As a vagabond, a leaf meant to go astray.
Stripped of the roots with remnants of sand from yesterday.
In the search of the bright sun of hope as people say.
Warmth on my sunlit path no longer as the womb where I once lay.
On my own, as a part of the crowd am I still true to myself as I once was?
I ponder often but remain bereft of answers today.
Standing as a sinner in my eyes in the courtroom of life I pause.
Pause to cherish the memory of the finger I had once held to find my way.
12. Will We Ever?
As I glance at the hues standing in front of my closet at home.
The colours stacked up which I would choose to exhibit myself.
To the ones walking around clad in the colours of their own.
As the green grass on the bare land of our self.
Tired of the mirror that denies the truth under the skin.
The streetlights that fail to show what lies behind the countless faces that pass by.
Are the inner me n the one on the outside akin.
The insecurities that we wrap around on a cold day I wonder why.
Through the window will someone ever look in?
Beyond the walls that we have built around ourselves for ever.
Will we ever have courage enough to break the walls that lie within?
Will we ever?
13. My Hourglass
Through the cracks in the wooden door the rusted pitcher can be seen
that tumbles and falls to spill the water on the muddy floor.
Through the window ceasing to knock, the wind tiptoes in.
As I peep within it peeps outside from the door,
the lamp kept on the stairs struggles to survive the storm.
It remains alive flickers till dawn.
As footsteps break the silence of my thought,
the smile lost in the world of riches is found in this blot
with the touch of the water from the pitcher on the lips.
Moments slipped by unnoticed as I sneaked into my hourglass where my sand slips.
14. The Stairs
When I climbed up the stairs leading to my home on a misty night
did it ever cross my mind,
that whatever ascends is meant to descend again.
So, I who once was incomplete now descend down as a puzzle on the lane.
To be blown away by the wind as everything that comes drifts away.
So, here I gather my pieces on the streets where once the child within used to play.
Piece by piece I create a new frame of mind.
Even though I fall apart in the land of dust, I unwind.
In the playground of the world I play along,
with the acceptance that I can go wrong.
I can cheat the world but not myself, so on the right path hardly taken I move on.
I know as long as I hold on to my belief, I will remain strong.
I opt for being a puzzle to be solved than a picture of beauty to be framed on the wall from dusk to dawn.
Unless I had descended the stairs from my shelter I would not have learnt that the journey must go on.
15. Reflection in the mirror
Read the words that my eyes write to you.
Sing them back to me again if you mean it too.
I have lost my voice in the chaos of the crowd.
The dilemmas have never been that loud.
Be the music that fills the emptiness of the vacuum.
The eyes have long been living the monsoon.
The song of my heart fills up in my eyes.
Desperate to break free with the sole desire to rise.
As it flies I would fly with it too high up above.
Here I stand staring at the mirror which I doubt I love.
Will build the bridge of faith with doubts kept at bay.
But I know I will embrace it plank by plank one day.
16. Repentance
By frayed curtains I block the rays intent on making their way within.
Cover the windows to my heart, which intends to dance.
In the silence of solitude the rays still make their way in,
but I shield my eyes from the second chance.
The ache in my heart never seems to cease,
even when the vacuum is occupied by the light.
I sit down behind the frayed edges moving with the breeze,
as exuberant rays bathe me in white after the night.
They cannot drive away the fright of yesterday.
Blinded by my fear I sit still afraid of the traces of hope newborn.
Deep down in my heart I want the day to stay.
I cannot help but wonder if it is the silence before the storm.
Hesitantly I open my eyes in a while,
to realise that the dawn had approached the room.
Tempted to glance from the window outside,
painted by the sunset I wait for the moon.
The barefooted night eventually walks towards me.
I await the beginning of the end with my heart beating wild.
Behind the curtains I hide my face thereby I fail to see.
The night walks past unexpectedly as an innocent child.
I wish it had dawned upon me in the daylight.
The day descends into the night,
but darkness is always followed by the light.
I would have embraced the colours of day and night.
Erasing the scars from yesterday I would have learnt to move on.
With a hope for tomorrow holding my wrist, in the present I belong.
My heart could have sung all along,
with the courage to dance in the wrath of the storm.
17. The Drink Called Life
To be poured into a glass or savoured with every sip,
that quenches the thirst with a mere touch on the lip.
Is it sweet or floats in the sourness of lime,
opaque as a lie or the transparency of water in the glass of time ?
Sometimes a pint of invited intoxication,
sunk bit by bit in the puddle of frustration.
On my tongue a tingling sensation
or from a distance irresistible temptation?
Whirlpool of doubts in my glass of desperation
or vacuum in the bubbles of satiation?
Am I the one to opt for a bottle from the shelf
or merely the one behind the desk?
Can’t I both offer and sip away my life?
Can I ever bridge the divide?
18. Uncertainty
As the sand slips between the toes they take my shape.
The restless water sneaks in through the gaps in between as I stand firm,
in anticipation of the shameful downfall of the day, witnessed by the landscape.
As time lapses, I remain, a rock on the heart of the sea.
I witness the hide and seek of the day and night.
The coin of events flips over but I wonder who wins the game.
I embrace the uncertainty but stiffen with fright.
Is everything that ever originated meant to change?
19. Who Am I?
As you try to run away I run along.
It is your mind where I belong.
I cannot be deceived as I know it all.
If you believe you are right I too can never be wrong.
You might want things your way.
On that way I would never set with the day.
Gamble with me and your last card will land up on the table.
You will lose it all but I am here to stay.
I live to boast but did you ever wonder.
As you live in my fear I grow stronger.
As you lose faith in your strength,
I will trouble you for longer.
I am habit, who was never here to stay.
A mere thought is all that you need to drive me away.
You are mistaken, of you I secretly fear.
I will make you stronger as you try to keep me at bay.
20. Iron Angel
I once again stumble down from the height of the assumption of life
into the valley of reality.
With the fall of assumptions for a moment down came the pride,
that had kept me strong with integrity.
But once again as wings you embrace me in the night
with an unusual silence suspended in the dark.
You come upon me as humble dimness of the moonlight.
In the lone sky of desperation I once again take flight as the skylark.
I know it now u had been the push that made me fly, u had been the cradle.
U have been with me through it all.
As a long lost tale or an inspiring fable.
Whether as the silence in the eyes or a playful laugh as I fall.
The hand that had once let go of my wrist to let me walk on.
The world no longer seemed to be as big as it had once seemed to be
as I learnt to walk on my own.
With u as my sky and the roots of a sapling that aspires to grow like you as a strong tree.
I look up to you as the sky that never looks down upon me.
Rather grows with me with pride every time I take a step on my own.
I admire you for being the dignity that stand tall amidst it all.
Learning through the trying times to discover that the strength has grown.
Being the shelter for the unsheltered under the hot sun.
The shore to be attained before the sunset of life one day.
To dissuade the waves of doubt the path to be taken.
The lighthouse as my companion on the way.
The words in my journal fall short to describe your magnificence.
As in the fields of happiness that you have ploughed I try to sow seeds of joy.
I am bathed in the rainfall of your presence.
I reminiscence on my growth from a seed to what I am today.
It dawns upon me that I had never stepped out of your reach.
I have always been nourished in your fields that I have made my own.
With a hope of making you proud I scribble my story with the words that you teach.
I still walk on with you as my inspiration towards a future unknown.
The epitome of strength in times fragile.
You have painted on the glass the meaning of my life
Adorned as a painting on the walls of your heart I smile.
I believe you are my iron angel as I believe life is worthwhile.
21. On Sale
Whether new or old.
Once it is sold.
It will be clipped on to the rope to fight with the wind.
Washed out to be accepted once again with creases manifold.
The fragrance will be retained in every fold.
From the day it was worn till it sleeps in the cold.
The story will be lost somewhere in the back of the shelf.
Forgotten in the dust before it was told.
It will be time to stop the feet.
Through the shopping street.
As on the day after tomorrow at the time of the stroll.
To be taken home as the reason of the smile with which we would sleep.
Whether new or old.
Once it is sold.
It will be clipped on to the rope to fight with the wind.
Washed out to be accepted once again with creases manifold.
Sentiments on sale.
Relationships on sale.
Lie rusted once they grow old.
As stories hidden in the corners that remain untold.
22. Never
Never is the full stop on the road on which I walk.
In the middle of the zebra crossing I find it as the roadblock.
The voices in my head never cease to talk.
They persuade me with ease to rewind the clock.
I run back away from the street.
Farther away from the destination I drag my feet.
Back into the forlorn long winding lane.
I seek shelter and yet await the rain.
Never is the full stop on the road on which I walk.
In the middle of the zebra crossing I find it as the roadblock.
The voices in my head never cease to talk.
They persuade me with ease to rewind the clock.
As the clock goes tick- tock tick-tock.
My ears await the ticking of a stopwatch.
So that the time of mine walks slower.
Till I learn to say no to never.
23. Memory lane
The memory of the smile
brought a smile to my face as I sit by the window.
The sunrays poured over my face rescuing me from exile.
The clocked seemed to be pacing strangely slow.
I escaped from the prison of monotony
as I caught hold of a day of my kin
from my memory lane that led me to see
that I had never lost hold of the memories within.
My days of the past have been held in the fist as sand
where every memory still flutters as a firefly,
leaving behind a light in my hand
that breathes life into me before they die
to be reborn once again.
Maybe not on a sunny day like today
but on a green day of the rain,
as the raindrops tempt me to play.
I still hold the hand of every person as a memory.
I never lost the smiles I never lost the pain.
I dance the dance of happiness as I run free
on my memory lane.
24. My Song
Amidst the music of the days I was lost as a song
And Life seemed to be awfully long
Dancing to the tunes of the globe
Thought I was being right always wrong
And Life seemed to be awfully long
Lost as a song.
Seeking shelter from the rain I missed the rainbow
Closed the doors as joyous raindrops came knocking up to me
The saplings climbed up on the staircase of the blue sky
But the ladder of success was all that I could see
On the rocky road I could have walked a mile
In this bargain my friends I lost my smile
In the music of life lost as a song
Life seems to be awfully long.
In my canvas I painted myself black and white
Day goes by and so does the night
The sunlight blinds me now I can no longer see
My shadow no longer walks with me
Every night is a nightmare of mornings to come
The clock ticks to remind me to be on the run
In the music of life I want to sing my own song
Something in me seems to be awfully wrong.
As I learn to dance to my tune
Where the music be my own
Let me fall in love with the road once again
As I forget the milestones
No longer lost as a song
Life is no longer awfully long
As I believe I am free
I am what I had always wanted to be.
25. Refugee
As a refugee I travel beyond boundaries,
my footprints change the rules.
Leaving behind fire alive on a creek side,
burning away the blues.
As I walk ahead carefree with hope warming my heart in the biting cold,
that a lone traveller would sit warm beside a burning stack of hay.
A swarm of butterflies strum my strings for a while.
My companions for a day never promised to stay.
I now walk alone with the colour brushed upon my cheek.
A farewell present so bitter of alas a memory sweet.
Left bereft of the rainbow, I cherish the long gone rain.
So I repeat.
As a refugee I travel beyond boundaries,
my footprints change the rules.
Leaving behind fire alive on a creek side,
burning away the blues.
I have walked through autumn and the spring.
I have seen many a day and night.
Driving away the dark, I rise as yet another day.
Even if the sun might set after the morning light.
26. Let Me Be Me
Tomorrow is all about destiny.
Till then just let me be me.
Let tomorrow be yours,
not for me.
Till then let me be me.
Life will be life tomorrow.
In dreams I want to live,
dreams are all I want to see.
Till then let me be me.
You want to be someone else.
In a fake world you wish to be.
I gift myself to you,
just let me be me.
27. My Closet
Derivations, explanations, frustrations, fright.
As in the closet of my mind they quietly sit,
the right side never seems to be right
while the left side has nothing left in it.
The closet is left with no space for long lost parts of mine.
The hangers lie burdened with reasons plenty.
The suffocation seeps outside,
tightening its grip all around my identity.
The drawers of knowledge broken,
the handles of persistence rusted.
The countless answers never spoken,
the questions never trusted.
Creep into the corners of the closet
remain hidden for a while
till I learn to repair my closet
piece by piece taking my own sweet time.
The old parts of me have left the space as stranger in me remained.
The mind seems mindless as termites of doubt fail to eat away the pain.
In the paint that has been chipped off, the faith needs to be regained.
It has been my saviour surviving many a seasons of the rain.
28. The Board game of Life
Either a window or a facade
is yet another face hidden in a masquerade.
A curtain half drawn
remains a reflection in the mirror unknown.
Is the one hidden behind the sheath of cards labelled as the winner,
hiding behind the triumph the world of a loner.
Is the one who ceases to be a gambler in the casino of one and all
the one who must await his downfall.
Is the one, who hands over lies to hold the hand of trust,
the one who thrives in the courtroom of the just.
But is the one, who stands tall in the crowd of chaos,
the one whose integrity we never come across.
Is the one that seldom seems wrong,
the one who plays all along.
Is the one who is not a player but merely a spectator,
the one who is discarded as a traitor.
Is the king on the chessboard who looks down upon his pawn,
the one who harbours the fear to be looked down upon.
The humans will play and will be played with in the board game
Brain will conquer the heart brawn will overpower the brain
29. My Evil One
I stumbled on the heap of leaves.
As I felt the prickle of his gaze I trembled.
I lay amidst the autumn trees
beside the creek with clothes crumpled.
I stared captivated by the evil one,
yarns of whose stories were spun in town.
As a captive in silence with questions a few, qualms none.
I sat spellbound by the light of his humble eyes ;
before he quipped quietly that he wished to paint my light.
I smiled as if my senses had taken my leave to wander off in the forest of teak.
I followed him to his ship of treasures to my utmost delight.
I felt as a part of the mystery that surrounded the Frenchman’s creek.
He covered his parchments with paintings of me
and the sand froze in the hourglass of the night.
The ship took sail in the mist as if someone up above had heard my plea.
Pursuing the wrong had never been this right.
He escorted me back to my house by the creek.
As a gentleman my evil one charmed me yet again.
Neither he uttered a word nor could I speak.
The midnight lingers on as I smile away the timeless pain.
Today as I walk in the woods that are no longer a mystery.
I flip those pages in my mind.
The pirate stole a part of me.
In the darkest of nights I found my light.
I wait here as I stroll, I wait for an escapade.
As the right no longer seems right I ache for the wrong.
No oaths were taken, no promises made
As I overhear the yarns of endless stories I know the place where I belong.
30. Welcome to my factory
Welcome to my factory of toys.
I sell the titbits to be played with.
I sell to the faces in the crowd a shopping bag full of joys.
The world is my playhouse I play with my wit.
As I control the puppets dim-witted.
I believe in my strings.
I hold them captive in the prison where once I hid
where they hold back to grow wings.
I was also manufactured but I learnt to play.
I learnt to sway the toys with the sway of my hand.
I was made to be sold but I had my own way.
I look down upon you in my own land.
I am the evil that rests in the factory of the mind.
I know the way through as I control one and all.
I am the blindfold you had never been blind.
May the happiness rest in peace in the graveyard of the toys big and small.
Welcome to my factory of toys.
I sell the titbits to be played with.
sell to the faces in the crowd a shopping bag full of joys.
The world is my playhouse I play with my wit
