Friday, July 24, 2009

Soulful thoughts in a lonely heart

It’s been a while and I miss you dear,

It’s been a while since I let anyone near.

It’s been so long that I picked a flower,

It’s been so long that I sang during a morning shower.

It looked like dew, for a moment was it you,

It looked so beautiful, but never prettier than you.

In the muddy murky water, I looked for the azure skies,

If it wasn’t to be blue, why cast the blame on me and you.

The stream by the roadside was struggling for a path,

It was lucky to seep through, and I have been trying so hard.

Iam lost looking within, where else would I go,

ahead lies life, that I pretend not to know.

I bowed before the birds, to chirp a little sweeter,

I pleaded with the roses to hold their dew little longer.

I prayed for a serene morning, greener than ever it had to offer,

to help me put to rest this poem, without having to wander any farther.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Motherly moments

She wailed and cried, through agony and pain,

yet, pulled him out to feel his heart beat and veins.

In disbelief she froze, cherishing his cries,

a ‘Mother’ just in, a while it took her to realize.

Out of her womb, he cuddled in her arms,

with shivers in the spine, her palms grew warm.

His fingers so tiny, soothing was her face,

he walked across it, leaving behind an angelic trace.

He shrieked in hunger, how would she know?

For a mother she has been, never before.

She fed him from her heart, shying from the world,

he chuckled in delight, when the milk mixed with her tears.

Heaven made way, by the bedside was god,

never to be noticed, today her baby to her was beyond all.

As a son I write, with my mom beside,

these words so true, cause I could see it in her eyes all through.

Saturday, January 31, 2009

In search of you, my smile

A smile that I lost a few years back, was ever lost,

until my teeth spotted it two days back.

In pretence I have smiled, at debts borrowed a few,

None of them my very own, I still smiled, and within was a ‘phew’.

Iam not a loner, never been one,

Felt all alone, when she left me stunned.

Should I search for her or my smile?

Wish both were the same, to save me this pain.

Like a new born I cry and none know why,

with no words at my dispense, my tears help me write.

All who read, sing praises for my art,

they call me a poet, when Iam just a writer in distraught.

Desperate Iam not, though my cheeks and chin are,

this poem is a consolation,

cause the smile that kissed my teeth,

vanished before even it could reach my cheeks.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

My lady love

The sun is up early to brighten your face,

and the creepers green for you to breath clean.

The storm abates until you pass by,

while the sand softens to cushion your feet.

The river stays still till you dip out wet,

and the roses instead have shed their red,

my lady , they know you are pained in seeing blood.

Finally when sleep hovers around,

the moon is smeared with darkness.

With nothing bright around to disturb you sleep,

and with my messengers of love always at your feet,

from the moment you rise till that you sleep ,

Iam here at peace , resting,

beneath our dried backyard leaves.


Poets never die, poems never die.

The pen never rusts, so doesn’t the mind.

Together we flock, together we boast,

of this incredible find,


When I told her

Clasped in harmony I held her hand,

In search of destiny, early to seek.

Meters in hand, a few strides in walk,

alongside the rumbling rails that witnessed our love.

Why this day? Why this place?

If not now, would it be too late?

An urge within endorsed my yearn,

to speak my heart to my counterpart,

still hand in hand.

Though not my words, but my fidgeting hands,

and the nervous sweat let her sense my hand in hers.

Could I have ever framed those cherished moments,

In a phrase so terse,

 a tyro when he is, a lover’s curse.

Though I not green, she sans pink,

neither eyes blinked to lose a second over a wink.

‘Yes’ would spell snow and ‘no’ would leave me all alone,

Either one imminent though.

Wasn’t sunny then, yet a shade she had offered,

 ‘Yes’ in disguise, she phrased that I had so long delayed.

Was it me, was it her,

A night of illusion it wasn’t for sure.

Still hand in hand,

When mom said, wake up son.

Had you slept hands crossed all night?

A dream, it wasn’t for sure,

cause the pen I hold, It’s still her hand.