My Book..

With great pleasure I announce the launch of my first book on Amazon. It is now available for purchase.

Would really mean a lot to me if you could grab a copy, give out a word and be kind enough to leave a review or even a feedback for me to improve and give me an opportunity to omit any errors in the future.

Link For The Book- Symphonies of a Curious Mind

For the readers outside India please drop me an email at Kumar.harshcg@gmail.com and I will get back to you with an update very soon.

Thank you all for showing your support.

Your guidance and support is always necessary.

Thank you so much.

😇

Lonely Nights

I fear lonely nights,
The grey moon that sometimes mocks me,
He has his Earth,
The land to his eclipses,
The haunting wind that disturbs the peace of sleeping villages,
Crawls under my skin,
It seems as if it is an object of habit,
The rigid discipline it pertains itself to,
Up and down below my chest,
It dances even on nights when the moon hides away,
And on days perturbed by jetstreams cold,
I walk through graveyard of my kind self,
The one trampled upon by anyone who made an appearance,
My pigmented, rustic slate,
Once pristine, welcoming to all,
I fear lonely lights,
And the days that come after it,
For night passes with a gleaming monotony,
An affair of eclectic proportions,
And births the day my heart is no stranger to,
The screeching, growl I am used to,
A humming in my ears,
An ecstasy of similar kind,
The one weightlessness might bring,
You know you won’t fall,
But want to,
I fear lonely nights,
The only constant…..

Cynthia

I miss you on the days,
The frost slowly eats away,
Little warmth the sun has,
And covers it with a hazy afternoon,
Difficult for me to breathe,
My eyes blink rapidly,
For dust settles in my eyelashes,
Heavy they become,
Suddenly a swift jitter of my hand,
Comes near my eyes,
And I close them,
For they fear these hands,
What they could do,
And what they did,
A flashback hits at the back of my head,
My consciousness eludes me,
I fall from the cliffs onto the ocean,
The bed of roses,
My sweet Cynthia,
I hold your hands,
Firm still light,
Dreams, reality, obvious, sensical,
Perceptive or the transcendental,
The machinery of my inner thoughts lose their lubricant,
As friction erodes my peace,
Oh so anxious heart,
I lay down, chest down,
Believing the earth might bring it calm,
I close my eyes,
And lay down flat,
Palms towards the skies,
Clenching for air,
I miss you on days like this,
A little more than everyday…..

This is my 500th post on this blog. Thank you so much to you, the reader for the support. 😇

Lipstick Red….

I standby her mirror,
As she takes off her mask,
The one spectacular, perfect for the world,
She shuns off her clothes and throws them away,
Like a child, sweet sixteen,
Her hair tangles and they merge with one another,
Luscious long hair contracts in her bun,
And she sings songs without a symphony,
Crackling her voice at all the high notes,
Crying where the beats drop,
She takes off her heels and becomes someone else,
Someone I find solace with,
The loose, ill fitting t-shirts of mine,
Hug her like the cold wind of autumn,
I stand there in that very position,
Each day as she runs her course,
Committed to her memory,
And to mine,
Naked, uncensored and sacred,
She turns my world,
Upside and down and sideways and cross,
Each day as I standby her,
With her at the mirror,
Lined with her mascara and the lipstick red……

Nose Ring…

She slowly pulled out her nose ring,
That her mother had placed,
The day she was destined to marry,
This will be your pride,
The weight of your hopes and ambitions,
She would often say to her as she donned her in clothes,
Now too shiny for her age,
Hold your head high,
As you fight through the thick forest,
Standing here since ages,
And will stand for ages to come,
She slowly pulled out her dreams,
And laid them flat on the floor,
For the world to see,
For the world to trample them,
Or give them wings,
She closed her eyes,
And took a deep breath,
As her nose dived,
The ring witness to it all,
Shattered, it fell down on the floor,
The night had just begun…..

Ursa….

I see you among stars sometimes,
As they knock on my window at night,
A sweet memory that strangulates me,
Your face builds up in my head,
And I feel as if you were here,
When the warmth of your skin,
And the slow breaths you took,
Everytime I touched your head,
How can one forget,
The movements and the fragrance of your touch,
I keep some stars spun in my knitting yarn,
For I like to keep them with me,
They warm me in the coldest of nights,
And bring a smile to my wretched face,
As I see the Ursa in the constellation,
I see your happy face…..

Mulberry…

Photo by Lola Russian on Pexels.com

Dressed in clothes white I walk among the mortals,
For they see what I want them to,
My identities covered in veils many,
Those took years to cocoon me into,
But a clear calm strucks me every time,
I come close to you and see a sanctum sanctity,
Where I walk naked,
Where I become you,
Or at least think as if,
I don’t need clothes anymore,
For you cover me with the odes of Mulberry,
Translucent and pink……

Grey

I cares the morning with my bare chest,
And lay it open for the birds to rest,
Their wings frozen from the jetstreams cold,
Stomachs growling for food,
For their mouths have remained dry,
Water became frost and fell as hail,

I dance in the sunlight and follow the dust,
The grains of sand that settle on my night stand,
Every morning though I shrug them off,
Some crystals enter my mouth,
My dreams sometimes keep it wide open,

I see the rainbows when it doesn’t rain,
For the water in my eyes clobber my vision,
And leak through crevices set sometimes in cement,
My faith was strong,
My love knew no bound,

The mystery this world is amazes me most of the times,
Sometimes possesses me with fears unknown,
Ugly, deranged and full of scars,
The truth is inevitable I tell myself,
For choice I rarely have,

I sing sometimes to the ghosts of my past,
The lovers those betrayed,
And the lovers that I did wrong,
They taught me many things,
Letting go off the sail once a while,
Sometimes guiding it through the atolls,

But I sometimes close my eyes,
And think of days when I would cry,
Hugging the pillow close to my mouth,
Barely breathing,
For a man must sometimes poke their subconscious,
It carries secrets deep within,
Only to see how far they have come,
The chipped skin on their feet,
The hair that had turned grey…..