Month: February 2014

Who is the lucky one
Who dug out all the roots of the
Saplings planted in a garden
Lest their thorns
Get entangled with your scarf when
You carelessly wrap it
Around on a cold wintry night

Or the one
Who has embarked upon
A new journey
With bottles full of water
For quenching thirst on the way

Why will then you stop by
Near a well
I had been digging
Just in case we needed the water
But that is not relevant any more
Go
The lucky one

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

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

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