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…..

In Print….

This wasn’t possible if there weren’t the people who supported me through the thick and thin of life. This book is more of them than mine.

Symphonies of a Curious Mind is my first collection of poems that I have tried to nurture with all my patience and all the writing I have taught myself over the years. It is a piece of my heart and my mind..

A big Thank you to all of you…😇

Symphonies of a Curious Mind Amazon link

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…..

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……

Symphonies of a curious mind

With excitement that knows no bounds, I present to you my first book.
The beautiful cover has been designed by my younger brother @kumar.shrey95 who has adorned this hard work of mine with his art.
This book is the result of endless sleepless nights and my thoughts that have come to me over the years.
Symphonies of a Curious Mind will be my first book and I need all of your support and blessings for the same.
Coming this 2020.
Thank you.

Dreams real….

I had a dream,
While I slept,
And walked through the earth,
It showed me places of happiness,
The ones that beam of glory,
Brought me gifts of the sound,
The space and the sky,
The dream was surreal sometimes,
The other set down with the rising Sun,
But the dream stayed with me,
When the temporary shifted to dust,
And the few sediments remained,
That stayed with me and stay still,
As I nurtured myself and carried myself through the fog,
One can only imagine the peace such a dream could bring,
When the letters gain the spirit,
And adorn vessels tangible,
You see the sunlight,
And it doesn’t burn you down….

Letters

I write letters,
For the smell of ink,
And the touch of parchment,
Withers away a part of my soul,
Brings it warmth sometimes,
The autumn becomes my guard,

I write letters,
For the words carry,
The news of the distant,
And speaks of emotions,
I like to preserve them in my box,
The one I got the day it rained,

I write letters
For I don’t believe,
The words that spill out of mouths,
That change in a second,
Or were they ever true,
They have an impeccable memory,

I write letters,
Of love to the ones I crave,
That took my heart,
And put them back in my chest,
Sunlight sometimes shines on them,
Termites never feast on them,

I write letters,
My body aches for those,
Darkness engulfs it,
And belches them on my bed,
I ain’t proud,
My stomach growls with disgust,

I write letters,
My past and my tomorrow,
Change is inevitable,
Change is necessary,
But the mould, it stays still,
The roots rarely melt,

I seldom write letters,
To myself,
Glory eventually touches their feet,
Those who shine at night,
The day is yet to come,
Some letters still on their way,

And I sometimes read the letters,
Carved in my blood,
Those bring me happiness,
And fly me to the Moon,
I keep them on my desk,
To read them aloud,
Whenever thunder rattles my windows,
And shakes up my house,
They give me power,
Letters of faith and hope,
The love I got,
And the love yet to come,
And I wait,
For I believe,
A letter will reach its spot……

Memory…..

I collect ages in my eyes,
The slow songs Autumn plays,
Whenever this wretched heart of mine,
Weeps for you,
I surreptitiously etch the days of my glory on the veins my father cast in gold,
On himself, the house, the kisses he gave me each night,
For him I am his biggest reward,
He tells me each day,
This mind becomes a grinder of sorts,
Memories that bring me smiles,
Of places, the faces lost and that stayed,
Behemoth it becomes and takes over my body,
Sometimes when I lay in the sand,
The cold water of the ocean washes my feet,
Heals the wounds that kilometres brought me,
The messages that never reached me, 
The things I could never say,
Nature sings a lullaby to me,
I am her son lost to the routine,
I seldom close my eyes,
For I want to become redundant,
Impractical, impatient, ignorant,
As I become weak,
For someone to carry me,
But I beam of sunlights when darkness dissolves my being,
My mother she brought me food that she couldn’t eat,
Bruised and still working till her breath,
I collect everything in my eyes,
My memory rarely eludes me,
The firsts, the birthdays and the lasts,
It’s satanic and angelic,
The two sides of a coin,
And as I creep towards the things still not in shape,
I talk and pull myself together,
My memory becomes my biggest weapon,
And the partner that helps me craft poetries sublime,
Makes me smile again,
Live that moment once again,
And I etch it on paper,
The ink it bleeds for me,
The hues of skies,
That day,
And I become one with myself,
The memories rarely eludes me……

Seasons….

I close my eyes as I lay down in her lap,
The fragrance of her sweet perfume quells my nightmares,
She slowly sings me songs her Mother taught her,
And her mother before her,
Songs that leads me to places calm,
Beaches where water clear as the sky caresses,
Mountains too, the morning where wakes up with the fog,
Sometimes she would move her hands through my hair,
Just like the wind through a grassland dry,
Cold, moist, soft,
As I descend into sleep, she sometimes would bend down over my head,
Plant a kiss on my lips,
Little did she know, they brought me showers,
Of something that my words fail to convert,
I would sometimes kiss her back,
But mostly not,
For that kiss pure as the first rainfall,
Hugged me like the first of November,
As summer slowly transforms to winter,
And apples fall from the orchards,
I sometimes listen to her heartbeats,
And wonder if she could hear mine,
Just like a songbox they play jazz to me,
I close my eyes everytime,
Her skin warms up my fists,
And I hold on to her,
As she pulls me close,
My seasons begin and end,
With her and always her….

मैं आऊँगा…..

दीवारों से हारकर जब जब मैं सो जाऊँगा,
तक़दीरों का राग लेके जब रोने लग जाऊँगा,
ढाढ़स बांधने जब चमगादढ़ मेरी आँखें बंद कर जाएँगे,
तब तब निराशाओं का सीना चीर के मैं आऊँगा,
मैं हूँ मिट्टी का मिट्टी है मेरी माँ,
क्या हुआ जब धूल पी के हैं सींचे इसे रंग लाल,
मिट्टी का हूँ तो दिखता हूँ,
हवा में उड़ जाते पंख,
क्या फ़र्क खून मैं मेरे या जो पसीना है लाल,
है नहीं डूबा सका समंदर भी जो अटल मेरा मत्था,
लोहे का दिल लेके अक्सर मैंने दर्द पिया,
ना जाने कहाँ टूट गयी थी चप्पल अब नंगा मेरा ये पाँव,
है देख चुका सारा संसार हर जगह मेरे निशान,
मैं हूँ मिट्टी का मिट्टी है मेरी माँ,
तो क्या हुया जो मिल गया खो गया नाम-ओ-निशान,
इक्का दुक्का करके इकट्ठा मैं फ़िर से जुड़ जाऊँगा,
घुटन से जब भर जाएगा मेरा आसमाँ,
हो रात काली और दिन भी साँवला,
डूब रही हो सारी आस,
तब तब निराशाओं का सीना चीर के मैं आऊँगा,
तब तब निराशाओं का सीना चीर के मैं आऊँगा,

Talking to myself….

I often speak to myself,
My voice for sometimes brings me warmth,
Shuns away the silences of the night,
The tragedies that were averted,
And those which bespoke a thousand words,
The fire in my chest that palpitates my heart,
And the shiver that often runs down my spine,
For my voice sometimes brings me a relief,
The rat race, the hurdles in my way,
They for a moment diminish,
As my voice calms my inner inhibitions,
Sometimes it turns musical,
I sing for the empty furniture,
The ukulele vibrates in my frequency,
But I am not alone,
It was my voice with me even in my mother’s womb,
My voice that sometimes crashes my mind,
And calms me down to sleep,
And serenades poetry that I sometimes scribble,
For this world or sometimes just my own eyes,
It’s possible, maybe even true or known for a fact,
Sounds cannot travel in vacuum,
I believe in somethings sometimes,
If not words, the frequency or even the pitch,
Sound definitely travels over plasmas of faith,
And touch chords of you, of me or even the inanimate,
The sound of me is sometimes my foci,
For I get lost too much in my ravines,
When people sometimes notice a peculiar me,
Oh yes, I often speak to myself….

My first try with the song Tu Jo Mila from the movie Bajrangi Bhaijaan…

Drunk

I am drunk and won’t call you today,
For my fingers reach my phone,
And I see your pictures,
My memories tingle my senses dead,
Your lips drive me crazy as they did before,
Soaked in your nectar sweet,
I would rip off your shirts as I did before,
And caress the deserts hit by drought,
Talk to you about your day,
Or the parts of your body that drive me insane,
And kiss you again for I want to love you,
Give myself and more to you,
But I stop as my mind plays games with me,
I cannot think anything but the thought of making love to you,
My stomach full of feelings kept in for too long,
But I look at your pictures,
And imagine the things I would do to you,
The alcohol keeps me sane these days,

जाम….

मत पूछो ये हाल मेरा,
है थामा ऐसा जाम मैंने,
की सच बोल गया तो,
उतर जाएँगे ये चेहरे सुनहरे,
आज चुप हूँ तो शायद देख रहे हो तुम भी,
कल जो बोल पड़ा इस मेहफ़िल में तुम्हारी,
फिर कहाँ छुपाओगे वो दाग गहरे…..

Do not ask for how I am,
My glass holds a wine dear,
This mouth if calls a name true,
Shine will shy away from faces white,
You look at me for I am mum,
My lips if will spill the secrets in your gala spectacular,
Scars will follow till the memories testify….