Category: Poems
Thoughts…
Thoughts,
You are so lucky
You can wander about
Anywhere and everywhere
You can be what you want to be
You can be where you want to be
You tend to meet different other thoughts
Whom you may either befriend or make foe
You feel no hunger
You feel no thirst
You never age
You can be as young or old as you choose to be
You reside within me
Yet, you are on your own
Oh, thoughts you are so lucky
Is there any way I can be like you?
I want to….
I want to walk
Through a lovely meadow
Knowing that I don’t have to hurry back
I want to look up at the sky
And reach out to every cloud that passes by
I want to smell the flowers
Till my soul befriends their fragrant powers
I want the wind to caress my hair
Till they become wild and unruly
I want to romance time
Till it becomes mine
For that will stop all my longingness
Because then, all the moments will be mine.
Life is Crazy
Life is making me go crazy
It shoves me
It pushes me
Then, it picks me up
And like a dog shaking
A bone between its teeth
Life shakes me and shakes me hard
Left, right and center
I am terrified in the beginning
Then I begin to enjoy it
What the hell
After all I am getting a joyride for free
But as I enjoy it
Life decides otherwise
It decides to let go of me
Takes pity on me
And allows me to have the best of things
I am again terrified
I am standing steady with no one shaking me
How is this possible?
I was enjoying the joy ride! Come On
Sigh! Life ways are strange
But slowly terror is leaving my side, I feel
So, good life! Here I come
Before Life changes its mind once again
Let me enjoy you.
Searching for the little me
I went on a search
A search for the little me that I used to be
The little me who could conjure images out of nothing
Who could laugh at anything
To whom happiness was always a company
The elder me is mature
She strikes a fine balance between reality and imagination
She weighs every word she talks and laughs with caution
She conjures images that are practical
But she often misses the little me that I used to be
I silently watch the elder me reach out to the little me
Trying to wipe the dust of time, and embrace her
Fighting the waves of the present lashing at her …
I continue watching
She looks at me with confused eyes
Then I slowly tell her –
Dear, do not go to the past
Make the most of the present
Then only will the future me
Miss you and try to reach out for you
She smiles, understands and quietly returns back to me
Promising to make my present the most memorable !
Beyond the Grave
Blood Drained
Emotions Choked
Thoughts Ruined
Feelings Strangled
Dreams Shattered
Breath Stollen
– A dead young man’s story !
Left Unknown
I stood watching a blind beggar
To whom this world
Is a magnum opus of his own imagination
Twisting, turning
Murmuring, smiling
Dead to the world
Alive within himself
What is going on inside him?
What is he dreaming about?
Hues of colour
Washed over patterns and figures
Or dreams of slowly succumbing to a life
Torn between cacophony and silence
What is going on inside him?
What is he dreaming about?
I probably will never get to know
Because I never waited for him to get up.
Abortion
When she was a kid
She used to dream of doll houses and kitchens
They remained all dreams.
Time passed by….
Her dreams wanted to flourish
She posed no impediments
And nurtured them instead
Now she envisaged herself
Soaring high over the ocean
With outstretched wings
Far, far, away
To a new, wonderous world
Her dreams continued
But one day sanity got the better of her
Making her realize
All the dreams of hers were to remian
Mere effiigies of unborn realities
And she felt that was the truth
To emancipate herself from the new-found truth
She resorted to aborting them
Killing every inch of her with each abortion
It was agonizing
And she died numerous deaths
Now, where there stood
Her palace of dreams
Is a barren land
Where her thwarted soul
Frantically searches for something
To quench its thirst
Its thirst for yearning, effectuating and relishing
Leading a crucified mother in her –
To often cry for her unborn children
To often ask to herself – ‘Was she justified in this abortion?’
Melancholy
Melancholy enveloped the evening
Took a paper and pen
To give birth to a poem –
Emotions wound its way
To words that fell
Robbing the virginity of the paper
Thoughts ran beserk
Feelings appeared dishevelled
This state continued
And I am left with what you are reading now
Can you call this minute old a poem?
If you can, then you are as preposterous as me!
Me & Myself!
Seems like me
But they are two different beings
One just the opposite
Carrying both together
Helps me strike a balance, or I believe
Their continuous chatter
Makes me ponder
Will I ever understand Me and the inner Myself?
Circus
Went to a circus
With great hope
The show began
And everyone cheered
In came the acrobats
The jugglers and clowns
They put their act together
Their bodies moved in tandem
As they climbed the tallest ropes
And rode the fastest bikes
The animals did their bit too
The crowd loved the show
Claps rung the air
Everyone was smiling
Except the acrobats, the jugglers and the clowns
Their smiles have long been stolen
Stolen by whom
I could not clearly say
Perhaps by fate
Who made them performers
Or perhaps by us
Who demanded repeat performances
Whatever it be –
Their faces spoke tales of gloom
As if their life was walking towards doom
Their performances seemed forced and compelled too
Is circus worth a visit then?
Aren’t we somewhere robbing off their smiles?
By forcing them to perform
Aren’t we somewhere smiling and cheering at their plight?
Then a small voice said –
Yes, you may be robbing off their smiles
But visit you must
Or else who knows
They may simply cease to exist.