Melamine….

I fall down the stairs of melamine,
Slippery on the way down,
That broached of a feline capacity,
Something sticky, made if to fail,
It calls me by name sometimes,
And grabs my hands the other,
The fake, forged feeling of warmth,
I seek in the living that sometimes touch me,
My eyes close seldom,
For they wish that this was over,
A peace they want,
Not something described in words,
A feeling of dancing lilies on the forehead,
The slow breaths of your love,
What more can one desire,
The fall usually never leaves much to imagination……

Shayad…

मैं देखता हूँ कुछ उलझे से सपने,
हथेली मैं जो लेके चलते हैं,
वो कुछ खुरदुरे से टुकड़े गहरे,
जहां मैं हूँ , जहां तुम हो, जहां सब हैं,
शायद मंज़िल की तलाश है,
या ढूँढते है ज़रा साफ़ सा आसमान,
शायद कहीं जाना नहीं,
उड़ना ही है शायद……..

Carnations

A flower slowly that hugs the air,
Opening up its petal for the outside world,
A melody that catches ears adrift,
And makes them wonder the soil it stands in,
Clenching the little pebbles like the hands of a newborn,
Its almost miraculous that nothingness creates something spectacular,
Out of things extraordinary,
That mingle around the dust settled,
A similar kind of love,
A man brings for his woman,
Sweet, discrete, wrapped in layers of lavender,
That slowly unravel and fills the air with fragrances eternal,
He holds her hands with the utmost sincerity,
Gentle and firm like the tendrils of Fuchsia,
How hard a man can love,
They are quick to ask,
Just like the oysters buried in the sand,
They bear pearls spectacular,
It kills them to love her,
They rejoice as she comes out pristine,
For the world to see,
Admire and fall in love,
He lies on the ground motionless,
For his love is complete,
For the world to see,
A man loves discretely,
Just like the air that hugs a flower slowly,
Its fragrance that travels around the globe,
Like carnations in the sea……..

Places…

I dream of places laced with ice,
That preserved the summer jiffy under her robes,
And bears snowflakes that speak of seasons,
Drenched with the morning glow,
Where the wind slowly clears up the grass,
The tiny lives it protects,
And waters them with a thought nascent,
Burned with an incense golden,
The sky has hues of the skin,
And bleeds whenever the land does,
Gallops of horses merry the ears,
The lions guide them home,
I cherish the little things in life,
That come to me as I sleep,
The warmth of my bed and the color of my walls,
Slowly caressing my head,
I dream and dream for dreams are dear to me,
They speak to me in languages new,
And bring me news of the seas,
I close my eyes and lay down for a while,
As thunder knocks my door,
I wear a mask this time, 
For it doesn’t know who I am,
It says hello and chats for a while,
And passes away to the next known,
I close my doors as I wash my hands,
Maybe a new handshake they say,
I dream and dream of places the old,
My friends and all those hay………

Best friend

I wish I could hear you speak,
A sweet slow symphony,
Music to ears, the orchards that bloom,
Fruits incessant over the ledges of rainbow,
Brewed eloquently, just like a perfect rhythm,
But I carry you in my heart,
That sometimes remind me of you,
As I caress the winds and lay down my palm,
Thinking of you,
My old best friend……

One Step at a time….

I shiver with the cold incense,
Sometimes that light up my petite insecurities,
Brewed slowly inside of me,
In places secluded from the obvious world,
And tether me onto a thread minuscule,
Almost invisible,
It becomes a daily conundrum,
The blanket doesn’t warm me anymore,
And the fan spews spitfire,
I drift steadily,
Sometimes away and the other to,
The goal I had seen in times ancient,
My timelines still blurred,
Although I move, capture and achieve,
One step at a time……

The little ant…

This little ant was the inspiration for the above poem. I captured this one as I was sitting in my garden, trying to admire the little things in life…..

Coin

I sip slowly,
For my mind is a catharsis of the fast,
Purging with the intense music,
It sometimes hear,
Up in flames,
Or the mask of entitlement,
It bears fruits drugged with immaculate perfection,
That bereft my senses of their glory,
Same as the wind that sometimes settle,
After a storm,
Aren’t destruction and construction the same sides of a coin………..??

Criminal

I wish it were this easy,
The soft music a harp plays,
A singer that matches its frequency,
And you close your eyes to its tune,
I wish it were this very moment,
The one we are always in,
That happiness strikes us in place never been touched before,
And silences become simple,
Not something to run from,
Not something to eradicate,
The flow of words would sometimes be easy,
The mind coherent with the body,
I like to believe that someday,
A day not yet named,
Someday when the sound of water running,
The erratic whistle of the distant engine,
Or the shrieking noise that pierces my mind,
Won’t be something that crawls my skin,
And bring me anxiety that knows no bound,
I like to believe that day would come,
When I am at my lowest,
And the earth begins to close upon my sky,
For if hope isn’t what a being can put up to,
It’s criminal to see the light……

Colour Red….

Her dreams were packed in his wrists,
As he flew too close to the Sun,
What would happen if I could touch it,
The Sun with my palms dark,
He would often tell her as they lay down,
On the fresh cut grass, burdened with mist,
Maybe you will burn your hands,
She would often think silently,
A thought malign, something dark,
Hit him while he tried to stay on the ground,
I will touch the Sun today,
Who will come to know,
He touched the Sun and it felt heavenly,
The Sun had skin so clear,
And beamed of the colour golden,
He came down unexpectedly,
Or some would say,
The Sun couldn’t accept incest,
He came crashing down,
His palms burning,
Smelled of rotten blood,
As she caught him,
Lay down carefully,
Looked at his hands,
Touched them,
Her dreams had vanished,
Tarnished by the colour red……

She breathes….

She slowly breathes life into me,
The otherwise mundane,
Decapitated meaning of rhyme,
Brings me news of places I had left,
In utter jittery, callousness of that time,
Carries me sometimes, pushes me the other,
The chains that bound my valleys of lime,
She surely knows her way around the rough edges,
Some of her and even of mine,
It’s hard I tell her when she inquires,
My head down, the weight of the unknown,
That shrivels my nails,
And burn my sky dry,
I sometimes look into her eyes,
For they sing me a sweet melody,
Bravo! my heart shouts,
The hands clap in applause,
And I lay down,
In her lap,
As she covers the sun,
With an eclipse golden,
Like a river that sobs through the agitating night….

Mighty…

She speaks of places,
Dipped in perfumes musky,
And skies of the color red,
Where oceans meet the mountains,
And rivers caress the snow,
Birds sometimes freeze in time,
Flowers bloom each second,
She dreams of lands,
Covered with mist,
Where boats sail on the land,
And messages are carried on the lips,
I meet her there sometimes,
When her storms calm,
When the tsunamis settle,
I hold her hands,
Cold from the incessant rains,
And hold her tight,
Pull her closer,
She sleeps in places like this,
In my arms sometimes,
I hold her head,
And move my fingers through her hair,
Sing her a song,
She sleeps peacefully,
For she already has the strength,
And I,
A mortal being,
Powerless in-front of her,
Lie down next to her,
She sleeps peacefully,
And I just see her…….