Wings will grow then

The abandoned fortress
Broken pillars
Will you like to live in a tree house?
And then throw the stairs away
So that you can not get down
May be, the wings will grow then
You can fly
Away to black sky
And I will collect some fAllen feathers
Which you would have outgrown
And use those as a book mark

Windows are open

Windows are open
For birds to fly
May no one ask,
Why
The red doors are just ajar
Don’t knock
Don’t knock
Come inside
O! Wind from so far
Unwrap the time
Unfold the tide
May the future
Have truthful waves
Even if boats are required to be sacrificed
May you fly, leaving no roped tied

Wisdom betrayed

Irony
Wisdom betrayed
Detachment
Clothed in
Devotional wrappers
New signposts
Are installed now
Follow them and go your way
We will give you a farewell
And pave all the paths
With love
That doesn’t demand
Reciprocity
Or retribution
Bless you

why has the tree dried

why has that tree dried
from which i had collected a leaf for you
not too long ago
is it that the tree can not withstand
the stoppage of the stream
which used to nourish its roots any more,
but the tree had promised
itself to grow and live
lest birds doent feel betrayed
and leaves continue to fall
to adorn the
loosely bound diaries
of those who now
flip
pages
and dust all traces of
authentic smiles
and cover them
with remnants of prayers
at the altar of new gods

A yellow Milky Way

A yellow Milky Way
Separated the two banks of the red river
Black sky
Green stars
And white
Eyes
And the triangles of feelings
Nothing more to say
Nothing more to hear
Words were sucked
By the black hole
Of vain desires
And
Successful prayers

Music of life

Once the tumour was excised
The pain became lesser
Poetry got better
Colours clung faster
To the falling drops
Of dew
In the silvery moon lit nights
But the emptiness remained
Suddenly
Lightening struck
Revelation occurred
Pain evaporated
And the frozen lake started
Reverberating
With the music of life

vain expedition of healing pains

dont wake me up
my dream may get shattered
i had sown the seeds of reeds
and some grasses
hoping that you will all nourish them
and when the winds will blow
the music of carefree swirls of
white clouds set free
by the tight embrace of the dark sky
will/may heal me

dont/do stir the pot now
dont/do let the froth outpour
lest you stain your pashmina shawl
with my tears

dont you want
to keep
it clean
CLEAN