Alienating the past

My conscience holds me to the ground

Threatening to step on my ‘thought pipe’,

Breaking apart I manage to look around;

Found a thug who spilt blood

And another who cut down trees.

I had departed, but acceptance was hard;

My pen with a broken nib,

The fire break I had cut

Across my imaginative wildfire,

Whole of my beautiful perception

That was sodden and covered in snow.

A scream escaped from the alienation,

I couldn't remember the last time I screamed,

It reverberates around me

The world and its naivety cover its face

And I breathe again,

Wait! There; life is circling back.

Crystal memories

My love and sadness drone, and then drown

in the glass of red wine I hold.

Thorns of past are driven deeper into flesh,

it festers; turns yellow.

My child tries to get up a third time,

I thought I couldn't wait to see another fall.

In my wait I slowly start dreaming of a chaotic river,

it’s rhythm carrying my repressed wishes,

sloping down the narrow bend and disappearing.

It took two firestorms

to burn down my conceptual home,

I still carry the corner stone

and some crystallized memories,

I’ll carry them till age murders my youth

then I’ll rest my head on the lap of the survivor

and try to sink into myself the past we survived. 

The painter

He paints; over and over

the perception his colours brightened

day in and day out.

Empty bottles in a rainbow trail,

it appears a naughty child’s playroom,

till the canvas thickened

with the blending of his lonely ways

and life juice of unknown faces.

The expressions of their life

rode through his face

as he sketched, rather as he etched,

each thread with his brush strokes,

joyous lightning flashing his fuller eyes.

Here’s another picture -

he slides down the wall

all thoughts gone astray,

the same eyes, so vacant,

like a distant lighthouse

watching ships wrecking themselves under darkened skies;

his figure drowning in shock as he pictured

the obtrusive end of his temporal hero.

He could only paint their lives

on canvases with colours overlapping.

Those tranquil moments now past

he watches, content,

with a cup of steaming coffee beside him.

His face mirrors the thought,

so lost in the world he perceived,

that he loaded the canvas with

until the realness of the world he so carved

branded his portrayal -

“That’s what they call art”- and a smirk.

The dip

A sudden jolt of surprise,
All I feel is the muscles contract
And slowly relax as the love swelled.
Then the womb purred with pleasure,
My arms moved on the soft skin
Tracing a line of raised hairs,
Till I found a little dip of love,
And a drip of honey fell on my heart.

Snowfall

I awoke feeling inebriated,

not the usual hangover

but as if I was freshly drunk,

I got up and looked outside; I smiled.

It had rained two days back and

yesterday they stuck their heads out

in ‘dirty’ yellowish white

but I was too busy to notice.

Today, my backyard has had a snowfall,

purest white of coffee flowers,

their scent, the sight;

this is worth staying alive for. 

To my space

As my dirty feet rest on your chest

I feel the hate of the fresh paint running through

But I know you recognize my warmth

Even after time has worn out so much.

Strong are the memories I cherish

That avalanches into my heart.

The one to whose arms I crawled,

Like a father had held me on feet first,

Whose heart grieved at the sight-

Of me with a school sachet; crying,

Always watching over me as my mother would

As I reluctantly finished my homework.

You, my closest friend, saw first

The fascinations and fantasies of my puberty;

Then slowly turning to a comfort

When the beast of depression tortured my mind

That’s when your door swung shut, leading me to exile,

Keeping me warm and beautifully lonely,

The chill on your walls teaching me to be cool

Slowly shaping myself into a character.

Now you see me in the same old chair,

Pair of empty eyes gets you worried

Then a smile stretches your red shades,

You see in my liquid depths, the beautiful face

Whose shadows had adorned my dreams,

In the meditative silence my ears strain to hear

Her musical footsteps from miles apart.

Your heart so full, you make bed for us on your lap

For me to make love to her on the warm sheets,

The love these long years have conceived

Making her an extension of my loneliness.

fArewEll to pAgeS

It was a long and misty flight

Back from the distant realms

Of magic and imagination

Where I bred a child’s perception

To escape the world’s devouring harshness.

Worn out from the journey,

Drawn back to the body, its weaknesses,

The head pushed back into the pillow

Sighing and struggling for breath

Watching the spellbound pages of the open book

Waving a long-dreaded farewell.

To pen it down in lines; what I felt,

Searched around and found all I needed,

But ‘will’ alone vanished somewhere.

The telephone vibrated in a long drone,

Voices and words of chaos coming through,

A heavy sigh; the abandoned painting

Left behind a small space of mine,

Mine alone, on the fringes of dreamy falls.

(End of another book means back to the real world, until I find another escape)

YearNiNg fOr anOther nOOn

All through the yawning and waking

I waited patient,

In the cold, black dress

Of the vaporous night.

He walks out of the concrete coldness

And into the procreating sun;

Thus starts my fine day,

I’m born; a shadow in the dirt.

Sun, the one who moves it all,

The one who moves me along,

Gives me longing at morn and eve

And spares my wish at noon alone.

With the warmth of the high sun,

In its golden light, he hugs me; loves me.

Memory fails- the time when he sold himself,

His core of existence embedded in me.

Dry union of a few minutes,

Before the wretched world parts us,

The life’s painless, impassive gaze

Makes me yearn for another noon.

bLind thAt I waS

Blind that I was,

While groping in the dark

Found a figure; a voice,

Her hand was smooth,

Her face wrinkled.

Blind that I was,

Didn’t really know

She had faces many;

What my fingers found

Was what I believed.

Blind that I was,

Didn’t see who she was.

She took my hand

Ran it over my own face-

Then I knew who I was.

Blind that I was,

I asked her for blossoms new,

But never heard her go;

Then heard a poet sing:

“Love - She left me all alone”.


[I see the finer aspects of love.Use my eye, see through me, find it in these lines...]

mUndAne RefLecTion

Wanting to see my ‘self’,

I bought a Mirror

For my new city room;

Didn’t pay in cash,

But in bills of love.

In the old rustic scene

The lake reflected, figures,

Though dancing in the waves,

Vast and deep; true images.

Every single night

Before the lullaby of street lamps

I stood before the Mirror;

I laughed, I cried, I danced.

Noticing stains creeping in,

Distorting my mundane reflection,

Never did the thought rise

A Mirror could crack to its core.

True, it did not crack

But instead it blasted,

And its crude shallowness

Left me all alone

To think of blue, blue lakes.

Religion v/s Logic?

Unthinking, proud moment,

Trying to find a niche

Among the portrait of saints.

The words of ignorant believers-

Yet, excited- you believe.

Employees in brain starts work,

Doubt comes about-

Does someone hear?

Does someone care

What your words plead?

Will a similar wind blow again?

Should I mourn the habits I lost?

The only prayer I say-

“I never am a sinner

I am just another lost lamb”.

flaShY blUe

1.What simile shall I use?

   What might I address her?

   The name the people endowed

   For the power shower- RAIN?

2.The wet feathers sat quacking

   Blaming her for the rudeness,

   “You wet my wiry net

   And my fluffy lil ones”.

   The warm wings of mother

    Hugged them to her breast,

    A smooth chirp to soothe

    Fear of the resounding thunder.

3.Rising, from among the grass,

   From maggot life to glassy wings

   Climbing up the brightening sky

   The fresh drops- a boosting booze.

   The rhythm of fluttering wings

   Hailing thanks to flashy blue

   For the gift of few hours-

   The simple, joyous life on earth.

LiFe DrEaM

The dream stood signalling

signs of the life forward,

worst nightmare haunting man.

Noble look and tucked shirt,

a man with gentle thoughts,

applause,garlands and admiring glares,

mics proudly proclaiming out

precious words he threw away.

Fake care hugged him,

betrayed by once godly love

the smile on face always mocked

a soul of dried up tears.

The coat and tie hung in air

while the core was reborn,

from the ashes was found new life

praised by self as worthier.

Forgotten by loving hands

never cheated by someone else

but always by life itself.

Torn clothes and images of life,

travelling with a split head

the ways spilt with blood,

the reddened floors stepped on

with aversion so steeped.

Two sides of my own

whatever life holds up,

mother deer with tears will watch

her beloved child being preyed upon.

Mental Suicide

Here I stand on a lonely cliff

looking down upon the waves

crashing onto heavy boulders

in this cold evening

all alone by myself.

My heart like the eve

chilled to the very depth

just an emotion,that rushes like the waves-

loneliness and nothing more.

But now I flashback to the past

my memories speak to my heart,

they bear upon and weigh me down

the thoughts of a loving family.

I take a step more back

away from the hands of darkness,

the mind a swirl of thoughts

of love that I never returned,

decisions taken wrong:of mental suicide.


[This is my first poem.This was from where I started learning to walk through the lines.]

Conflicting Thoughts

My conflicting thoughts-

Like a piece of iron

Suspended between

Two equally strong magnets.

Affinity to both

Keeps me in place,

At times moving an inch

And then coming back.

Hard times were those

When i could feel the fields

Fighting each other for my possession.

If I could,I would get torn in two

And give a  bleeding piece to each,

I could easily take the pain.

But it hurts now when i'm torn,

Torn from the inside.

Torn in their love.     

Flooded Planes

At times shining bright

Spreading light and warmth

Upon minds around and self.

People stretching themselves

For a bit of warmth

In the cold cells of life.

Change comes fast and sleek

Billowy clouds appear soon;

Few look up to ask

"What's happened now"?

Days pass with the clouds swirling

Concerned faces expecting drizzle.

Then comes the lashing rain

burning holes on ground and cloud.

But the rain fell on flooded planes,

Apprehensive looks paining me;

A question I ask myself-

"Would flooded grounds ever love rain"?

Battle

From childhood i heard
stories of heroes
who won over foes.
For glory was great
my kin urged me too
wanted my name
in history,they said.
Tearful eyes of mother
send me to the battle,
on the way did i meet
a veteran hero,said he
"Stand your ground".
Strengthened by will
prepared to face an army
thought i'll conquer many.

Battlefields in books
told of greater glory,
but none said
they were so gory.
Several masked faces
guarded left and right,
in falsified security
i abandoned my alert.
Heavy blows on sides
taught me better.

I wandered the tall trees
ears cocked at hostile steps
i swung my blade
only to get badly blocked.
Out of the shadows
emerged a prince with halo,
a feeling deep inside
"this blade matches mine".
By unspoken consent
we raided the woods
one guarding other's back.
Together we thrust blades
right through other hearts
and cried in delight
as our blades turned red.

At an unknown clearing
while we fought five foes
swords clashing in din
unfamiliar helpers ran in.
But the prince grew on them,
obsessed with power
they pulled him out safe.
Profited at my unarmoured back
a blue blade slashed open it
and amidst my cries
did they ride away.
History did not look my way
but mystery would vouch for me.

Agony

As a ghost of the past

reflected in the moonlight,

the skeleton i dug up

lay eerie in the courtyard.

The relics of once a being

a king without crown.

With stares did people watch

the star that rose to sky,

to outshine sun,the mighty one

made a dwarf,its light undone.

Kneeling slaves always swear,

the master's eyes unblinking ones.

As they came did riches go

leprosy did make its feed,

like a black hole is to shiny star.

Fleshy tights did rot away and

like a child i could only watch.

This state of things is agony

but am i sane to feel the pain?