O mine….

O mine, O mine,
I wonder what it’s like to see,
To stumble down a stairway,
Of dreams, desires and all things sweet,
I cannot see the blurry eyes O mine,
Filled with clots if not ancient,
My insecurities, my helplessness and the shards of my ego O mine,
I sleep desperately over pavements,
To hear steps of strangers to sync with my heart,
But O mine, O dear mine, O sweetest mine,
They aren’t you,
For Dolus plays with my heart, my mind and my soul,
He finds happiness in sticking me with glasses sharp,
I bleed in snow,
I bleed in autumn,
And over days when the sun wakes up the little hummingbirds,
But my skin scaled, porous, heals my scars,
For new ones to grow,
I fall down the stairs, consciously,
O mine, O mine,
Can you catch me,
For just this once………….

I write….

A pain radiates from my ribs,
Slow to move, hard to touch,
The one my ghosts speak in days of my penury,
The cracks in my skin,
Ripples in my heart,
The pain usually subsides,
As Sunrises and Sunsets paint my room,
Over mountains ancient and over the clouds new,
Inches away from my bed I herewith reach for my pen,
Tuck neatly within pages of the old annals,
I sometimes write with my hands folded,
And sometimes with eyes that see beyond the stars,
For a pain that radiates sometimes through my umbra,
And onto the ink that fills my pen,
My words the lover, an affair of the century,
I write, I write, I write…..

New beginnings……

I rummage through the graveyard of dreams,
The lost desires and the will to see,
For sometimes I walk over puddles deep,
That source through my devils oh so grim,
The substances that had once belonged mine,
Determination, perseverance and that stubborn grit,
Sitting there idle gambling over the coffin of my skies,
I squat with them, shake hands and bulge them to take up their arms,
As I pick up mine,
For the world is mine and it is mine to see,
The roads traveled and the paths untrodden still,
My voices dumb and mute and unsound,
The frequencies lost in the shriek of the crowds,
For I shall shout and talk aloud,
The bastille of my insecurities shall break,
And bring back the silver in the skies,
And I shall see and see afar,
Farther than the fog and farther than the Equinox,
Till I can see thy self and say it aloud,
It was all worth it, the scars on my arms………

With this post I would like to inform you, my fellow writers of something that is really important to me. Another step towards my career. I have been selected as an inspector in the Customs and Excise Department, Government of India and will be serving the nation towards achieving a better taxation compliance and inclusion of better taxation literacy.

All of you have been really supportive to me and like an extended family that I’ve grown to know for the past 7 years since I had started blogging.

I thank you all for showing me the continued support and guiding me whenever I was lost.

This post is dedicated to all of you 😇😇😇

Thank you

First time

I see dreams wrapped in layers chocolaty,
That ooze of desires sky high,
Slowly that drops over shades of ivory,
Turns them to gold,
And brings them sunshine,
For dreams I see with eyes both open and closed,
As they bring me warmth and a little glee,
That runs across my face,
Everytime I bring them back to life,
Just like the happiness of a boy,
Riding a cycle for the first time……

Sleep

Bereft from the identity accorded to myself,
I slowly dissolve in the middle of the night,
As waves of malign sincerity infest me,
I keep my eyes shut,
And clench my wrists over the sheets drenched with my sweat,
Rarely and remotely my body derives a mind of its own,
For it behaves in manners strange to me,
I see clouds in my room,
And valleys over my head,
I slowly dissolve into an oblivion,
As something vicious pulls me down,
That doesn’t come to me in the day,
But as the day sets and moon knocks on my door,
It becomes a part of me,
Something necessary, like the saint who needs his daily whiskey,
I close my eyes and shut them with my bare hands,
Maybe sleep will make it better…………….?

Photo by Daria Shevtsova on Pexels.com

Balloon…

I see dreams wrapped in satin wraps,
Those speak of places filled with gold,
The roads where are always straight,
And speak of plenty and plenty more,
Once a while I too see,
Little packets wrapped shabbily,
Sometimes an old newspaper,
Or a filthy old bag,
They speak of insecurities and helplessness,
That birth fighters among those that have cracked heels,
Might be them that still maintain the balance,
For dreams aren’t saved for those wooden floors,
A balloon might pop once a while……

Ballad…..

I bleed of the color pink,
The rose withered and mixed with dirt,
Of sometimes that brew a sharp cacophony,
That meddles with my mind,
My body already numb,
My eyes often plays games,
My fingertips as they lose their prints,
Sensations of crisp mahogany,
The freshly cut lavender,
That blooms over the crescent of the moon,
I sometimes hear your name,
And see a mirage over the oasis you left for me,
Water made of gold,
I am always thirsty,
As I bleed of the color pink,
My clothes drenched with my nerves,
I slowly bury myself,
With sand over my nostrils,
And ask my eyes to take some rest,
I dream of you,
And your dancing ballad……

Cold Brew

My words brew a cold stillness,
In the mornings when I am sore,
As insomnia scares away my sleep,
And insecurities cripple my legs,
I drip onto parchments made of skin,
My blood, my sweat and the ink in the color of my eyes,
I find you in my kingdoms of prosperity,
As reality burns me down…….

Peace

The wind that carries in it,
The cold of the distant glacier,
That melts everytime it hears your name,
A ballad of sweet symphony,
And the Oh so petite heart of mine,
Why do you beat so more,
The wind that carries in it,
Your perfume made of gold,
It breaks the chains ancient,
Rusted and crippled with dust,
The wind brings me peace,
Just like that kiss of yours……

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……