Category: poetry

 

Why did you ask

When did I last cry

Did you not see

My eyes were` always dry

Have I started slipping?

Has my mask become transparent?

 

 

766

 

 

Old trees were reminding

How the streets were winding

The crowd of admirers

Address  of all those

Who expect  rejoinders

Have to be forgotten,

I was disillusioned

I thought, I had reached

The end of my journey

But actually I had tested the tether

There will be another day

There will be another walk

Some time I will walk faster

And some time u will remind me

That life is not

the game of outpacing each other

 

will I cherish these moments just

as memories of smiles

light brown flowers on pale gown

 

no, I will try to persuade you

to look at the life

as a journey

to help uncover the sparks

among the  less privileged

and the less confident

but deserving of our love

and a desire to inflict

on them, a pain

of purposefulness

and persistence

when nothing seems to suggest

why will these values really deliver

eyes will close,

voice will quiver

hands will be cold

but the soul will be warm

at that moment,

I will welcome the death

In your arm

 

 

 

7.25 pm

 

 

 

 

 

765

 

 

I have painted the black horizon

With a tinge of red sky

I saw today

Over the clouds

Tired and turbulent

As if u were reminded of  a deep sigh

That summed the situation

As if  I had located the wrong star

To navigate my ship

In a deep far sea,

away from the islands

That comfort the sailer

When storms arrive

But I am not fallible,

I am incorrigible

I have loved

With purest of might

That propels the whole

Atmosphere

Towards the edge

Where deep valleys

Shine

With all the lights

That will glow

In the backdrop of sullen nights

Do not stop me now, let me say

Why did I not pause

 

 

764

You had offered to drink

The cup of tea I made

Without a spoon this time

In it, to let vapours escape

But then I did not make it

You did not ask,

The cup has now reminded me

Of the tea you made,

Turning your back, in blues and with jade

I still smell

The sparkles of smiles

That I saw on your face

When you had embedded stones I brought

In new earrings, with designs full of grace

How do I erase,

How do I paste

New postures

In empty coasters 

Just listen, pause for a while

Let me collect all the things

Before u put them on fire

For you, new dawn will herald

New memories of meanderings

I will stay here, with abandoned banks

Of a dried river, broken necklaces

 

 

 

 

Why did you heal,

Even a single wound

I had collected so many

Only to remain in pain,

Lest some body suspects

Smiles on my face to be hollow

I had covered with them

Like a lid of love  on cans of sorrow

Do not blame me for swinging

Like a pendulum of endless hope

And a desperation to die

After all, do not the sand dunes bear

The silence of cold nights

And summer of promises that wear

With time, like the vain tides of time

I will not complain, if you remain there, just quiet

 

 

 

 The river had dried

I asked the mason to collect the stones

And start the construction still,

He was not convinced, did not stir at all

His wisdom had never been before, defied

I still hope that river will flow again

And I will need to cross over once in a while

But was there  some thing, I don’t know

i did not have to say

what you meant

when u just waved hand

and went away

i remember the whiff of fresh air

that passed me by

and evaporated the fatigue in my eye

and ruffled my white hair

now, that you are gone, i am waiting still

will the nectare of time

be there to fill

my cup is broken

my thirst is forgotten

but i long still

for some  one to take care

when all the chaos  i create

and donot have a moment to spare

my life, my friends

and partners in crimes

of neglecting my duties many many times

why will you

forgive

why will you let go

i had breached the dam

why would not now

the free river flow

when light refuses to reflect

and the mirror of soul cracks

what do i do,

sit aside and observe

why the sounds did not any more echo

why on my breaths, amar bels grow

harvester of waves

extractor of  caves

from within the no man’s land

pulverizing  memories

of roads abandoned

so that you can go on

even when no one mentions

why we do not  have time to build pavements

when the road of life gets too crowded

 

 

 

sanctuary of sighs, are u

why would one become a deity

or an apostle

when indulgence is so easy

and the aftermath bothers

only those who have carved

obelisks of  every thought

that has failed to permeate their conscience