Tally of tides that swallowed sunk boats

Tides are not keeping any tally
Of the boats that got sunk
When storm took over the reins
Of mad waves
Why sit there
Watching
The way
One after another
Castles of sand
I had built with you are swallowed
By the hungry tides
What will i offer to them now
They are still
Thirsty

a walk to wait for

pregnant hills
would not deliver the stream
to moisten my dry garden
i know this
and yet
i wait
for the volcanic eruption
which will swallow all the restraints
and put at rest
the aspirations of those stones
which i had gathered from the road
so that when you walk on it
they dont hurt your feet
now these stones have given up
all the fire which could have led the volcano to erupt
has quietened
dont look for smouldering fire
in these heap of stones
there are silent spectators
and road is unwilling to accept
and thus continues to wait
walk over it when it is possible, even if a few steps
only

are they?

surreptitious subtleties are raising their head
why should i let them do so
let them lie buried deep inside
nonsense poems
artistic liberties
license to let go
are all excuses

are they?

locked door
welcoming eyes
impatient wrinkles
cracked door
frame

Disengagement was a gift

Will I have seen
The warmth of a tiny smile
That erupted on your face
When a tendril
Intertwined around
A sprout of serenity

Disengagement was a gift
It was a discovery
It was a license to love
The moments all around me
But which had been missed for so long
But no more
Let the sprouts know
They are not fragile any more
They are my sustenance

Blissful encounter in the morning

A brief
Blissful encounter
In the morning
Disengagement with all the strings
Pulling me back
The inertia was celebrated
By recursive prayers
For new engagements
And morning obliged
Don’t complain again
I may accede to your
Call
Prayers may get answered
And encounters may follow
More often

does it matter whose mirror is it anyway

does it matter
whose mirror is it any way
why did i say that this mirror you show is not mine
may be i was not sure
the convexity of your mirror
will amplify all the warts of my mind

may be
it will mask
the minor errors
which may have enabled my mind
to swallow
lot of falsehood so far
but will not some impurity help
to contrast the truth with its background
may be
may be not

morning mist
cloudy sky
far horizon
all this appears as if i never touched your
feet
out of respect of fear

when right is really wrong

which decisions are right
which one are wrong
does not depend upon expediency
the opportunism is a tactical victory
but it may cost seed
a deeper placement
how deep then roots go, one does not know
whether right question is what one will sow
or wrong creeper will really grow
on the stilts of sighs and
wry smiles
do we really know

Forgive till you get fatigued

I m fatigued now
Tried to forgive indiscretions
Time and again
Hoping wisdom will prevail
But now that limits have been reached
May be the bunds will have to be broken
May be the kindness is seen as
A weakness of spirit
May be

One who has always seeded the garden
Will have to do weeding
Painful but inevitable
Limits have been reached
Wisdom does not prevail anymore
May be

try it

knots will not resolve
so easily
dont beat the rope so hard
it will not give way
the bridge will stay still
but then truth is not so difficult
try it