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…..
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.
तो क्या हुआ जो आसमाँ आज साफ़ नही, हवाओं में कुछ गुमशुदा सा है, कुछ भीगी भीगी सी आस है, मद्धम सी चल रही नदियाँ हैं,
तो क्या हुआ नींद नहीं आ रही है, करवटें बदल बदल के तुमने जो रातें काटी हैं, ना रात गुज़र रही है, सूरज जैसे कहीं छुपा सा है,
तो क्या हुआ जो रास्ते उलझे उलझे से, शक के धुएँ में मंज़िल नज़र नहीं आती है, मैं किस और जाऊँ, क्या यही मेरी राह गुज़र है,
मैं सोचता सब हूँ, सोचता शायद कुछ भी नहीं, एक ख़याल ज़रूर आज आया है, तो क्या हुआ जो नहीं मैं जो होना था, जो हूँ शायद नहीं भी होता, मगर यह ख़याल आज जाने दे, की आज मैं मुझमें कुछ रहना चाहता हूँ, की आज बस सोना चाहता हूँ…….
I am a regular man, Who feels the wind on his face, The cold soft breeze, Hot and thorny sometimes, For I see through small viscera, The fabric of time, The minuscule, timid that intimidates me sometimes, As I lay down to relax, On my bed, my abode, But I am a regular man, That sleeps sometimes through the terrible storms, And sometimes pick up a hammer to nail the wriggling seasoned doors on my facia, Nothing much to hide, Not much to show, A plaid, straight old rhythm, Somewhat like the Beethoven’s Für Elise, Regular, easy….
I dream of things, Not tangible sometimes, The wind so cold, And the sun so warm, That slowly rivets to my lungs, That berefts me of senses sometimes, My world constricts itself easily, I dream of little, The things that my heart can see…..
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……
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……..
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……
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…..
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………..??
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……
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 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….
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…….
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…..
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……
I bleed through glasses of ivory, Thick, viscous, slow to move, My veins, the slow drama of an eternal love, The blood sometimes harden up, And becomes the color in my pastel, I dip my brush in it seldom, The canvas this skin of mine, It beats and beats so hard, My little, oh so little, September Heart……
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….
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…..