Distant Star….

I dissolve into the night,
Surreptitiously, just like the mist with the fog,
Pieces of caprice, bits of a malady turbulent,
My nails grow slowly and curl around it,
I wish sometimes that this stays,
Embedded in my memory factual,
For it brings me relief,
The coldness of a distant star………..

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…..

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…….

Ink

My bed knows stories,
A night when the windows,
Splurged cold winds onto my bare chest,
Shivers cracked my heels,
A weight heavy,
An anchor tied to a ship,
It knows my stories,
Mixed with the whiskey I spilled,
Glass broke and pierced my skin,
Still embedded in my stomach,
The marks stretched,
I sleep on it most of the times,
Belly on the bottom,
For it brings me lullabies,
Simple, just like the tick tock of my clock,
My bed knows stories,
Most of it,
Just like the ink I emboss these days…..

Mist

My eyes see threads of mist,
Entangled around your petite neck,
Like a festoon of fresh flowers,
Blossoming with the day,
They slowly cover up your chest,
And all that lies beneath it,
Happiness and a tinge of malady,
For they sing songs,
Those pull me closer to you,
Slowly but surely,
I desire someday to be a part,
A pearl of your necklace someday,
The admiration priceless,
Eternal and unbound……

Slow….

I am slow these days,
Blood turning viscous each day,
And the skin to the color yellow,
The breath falls short as the leaves turn red,
Sky speaks stories of the night,
I turn to the mirror these days,
When the light creeps out my front window,
Scaring away the little eccentricities my consciousness carries with her each day,
And I hold onto my fears,
The world trembles and jiggles the mind,
I am slow these days,
Maybe I ran too fast….

Closer…..

I won’t kiss you today,
Your lips made of temptations,
Heavenly even for the clouds,
Your voice muted,
I wish to hear you speak,

I won’t strip you naked,
Not today,
For I see so much more,
The clothes on your skin,
Tell stories nobody dared to listen,

I won’t make love to you,
For I want you to see,
The curves on your body,
Hidden from the world,
Your very own,

Lie down as I hold your hands,
Hold them tight and soft,
Slowly strolling towards a bliss,
A fantasy turning to reality,
Close your eyes,
And dissolve into mine,
For I shall bring you close,
Closer than the atomic distance…..

Identify….

My days are usually linear,
The routine kicks in as the Sun takes the first yawn,
My legs wobble first,
For they know they have to carry this body of mine,
A body of dreams and desires,
Tanned under the voracious Sun,
Dehydrated and transpiring each day,
I slowly collect pieces of myself,
Dab them with the little integrity I have left,
Left over from the day my soul died,
And the mind took over my decisions,
I bathe myself not so frequent,
The stench never goes away,
My hands still dirty,
Aqua, teal, the color of the sky,
Days pass in utter monotony,
And I depart for home,
Where the air seems a little distilled,
The wooden doors feel familiar,
Marks on the wall my very own,
I am greeted by a warm presence,
Sitting by the garden green,
Pruning the Dahlia with their wrinkled hands,
Cooking something for the heart,
I sometimes sit by them,
Not speaking,
For they know I want to be strong,
The storms have already ravished the inner beings,
A bed made of soft lullabies,
Their memories etched in my sub conscious,
The first day of school, the last day of my college,
I have heard their stories numerous times,
And could hear them a million more,
The days like these,
When the winds are a little kind,
And I can leave my worries packed in my little cardboard box,
The one my parents have kept intact,
It soothes me,
The twinkling rain that sometimes drench me,
Trekking on to the mountains of my past self,
The broken, bruised, failed, deprived,
That heals my wounds,
And stitches them happy,
I sometimes call their names in my sleep,
As their voice guides me in the strangest of times,
The times when I dare to take a leap,
Into the abyss,
The dark seems the day,
Silences eat me like termites brown,
I try to hold onto them,
The sweet riverine flow,
The estuary that sublimes into the ocean,
And breeds villages of life,
Once again,
Every time,
For I am a piece of them,
My identity of their being……………

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Holds me….

The Sun sets over me sometimes,
Slowly as it opens up its veins,
The horizon turns red,
And the clouds scatter away,
For they fear the night,
The eerie silence that disturbs them,
Nomads of the desert,
Star watchers that breathe with their twinkle,
I sing them lullabies sometimes,
Their heart races and dives down too soon,
Maybe like the Sun that sets over me,
A leap of faith they say,
A dive into the dark,
I grow wings fluorescent,
Neon lights that barge through my eyes,
Onto the sky,
The Aurora spectacular,
And slip into a cocoon golden,
The warmth of her skin,
The color of her blood,
The Sun sets over me sometimes,
And she holds me tight……

Touch…

I crave for the sensation,
The blood that oozes out of my December skin,
Dry, thick, viscous,
That covers up my pores,
For it carries deep within itself,
Affairs of our bodies and mind,
The days when nothing could separate us,
Long, moist, infinite nights of passion,
We carved a piece of ourselves,
On the annals of time,
Volcanic eruptions, the calm before the storm,
I crave for your body,
The oxytocin that flooded my mind,
And the heart that pumped blood,
Everywhere except my breath,
That fell short whenever we kissed,
For you breathed for me,
And I collected stars for you,
I crave and crave so much more,
The dripping sweet and sonorous,
Your touch,
My end and beginning…..

Song of the night….

Last night as I was sleeping,
She crossed my mind,
The cold sea breeze that unfurled her hair,
Slowly gyrating along the rotation of the earth,
Her eyes watched the distance sun set in the horizon,
Murmuring in her ears the stories lost to the ocean,
She laughed as the water touched her toes,
Leaving the cold sand behind her ankles,
And cried as a shrill numbed her ears,
I have seen it all,
I like to tell myself,
The days when I wake up,
Her presence a somber song of the night…….

Stones

I see you walking by the stars,
Holding your breath for the Sun to see,
For one life they say is enough for mortals like us,
Blood and bones walk the scorching earth,
Bleeding to find a space among the legendary,
Sometimes despair, the other hopes for light,
I see your face in these people sometimes,
Lost, waiting to be found,
Searching for their home,
That would eventually bring them peace,
Peace that would cure their internal storms,
And you could sleep easily,
For hours that you may desire,
No thought of what to do next,
What to become,
What further to sacrifice,
Just sleep with eyes closed,
Even on a floor made of stones……

Hercules

I watch you over the rills,
The saline mist brewed on the far side,
Of the Moon and the Saturn,
Those crave for attention,
Just beyond the visible,
For centuries eyes have adored the Moon’s craters,
And the rings that dribble on Saturn’s waist,
They want to be loved for what’s beneath,
Their core still warm,
The years of cold shrill,
And the space dust that settled on them,
Maybe a day would come,
The symphony of one curious mind,
And the organs that believe in magic,
Will birth the legendary Hercules,
His might of the Gods,
And the heart of clouds,
Shall carry their almost tired bodies,
Over his shoulder,
Or maybe in his arms,
One day shall come,
I will see you up close and personal,
Hold your hands and tell you it’s alright,
No longer shall I stay in shadows,
For I’ll be the Hercules and you be the Moon…..

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……