the wave
the wave passes through
I sing a song
with idioms woven
with tunes borrowed
with words learnt in school
a song of longing
the song shrunk to a lore
and my fingers get stuck
to the wave just passing through…
awkward moment
to cut a groove in this life
I read and re-tread
I write and re-write
the old testaments
to create new amendments
to love memories
to live passions
to scratch signals
to cut a groove in this life
I chase birds
I ride higher
I drive faster
to arrive in peace
to enter the silent zone
and the sound of my ears
falls flat on my conscious
to cut a groove in this life
I look around to find
moist air
tall grass
pink roses
yellow flowers
a white handkerchief floating in air
surprised
I sit askance
to cut a groove in this life…
one moment
f I lived through each moment I lived
I could have been a poem
Read and re-read
many times over
one after another
I could be a story of a lifetime
or
I could be a river
merging into ocean
at my own delta
I am over flowing
raising bars for no apparent reason
if I were a butterfly
I could have lived
through haircuts
clipped wings
and polished cheeks
here I am with rough edges
smeared with sweetened cream
scraped from birthday cake
if I were a pencil
I could have written and sketched
faces and flowers
one after other
sun flowers and
faces with flowers in hair
I lived those moments
through each of these moments
I conveniently
forgot to live through this one moment
this very single moment…
the truants
When they come knocking at my threshold
I gather them in my lap
Handfuls
And put myself on the backburner
To simmer
Till they turn into long meaningful sentences
Till they extract design from the air they transcend through
I gather them in my lap
Handfuls
And put myself on the backburner
To simmer
Till they turn into long meaningful sentences
Till they extract design from the air they transcend through
They turn into lores
That my fingers sing
And fly away from my gripping thoughts
To claim skies free of blue
And then
With a bang
They arrive at my window
Falling with the raindrops
Flapping against opaque glass
And i miss them
Standing at my door
Where rain conveniently
forgets to drizzle…
The verdict
I am a silent worded poem
Written alongside my story
Drawn on a rainy day
On behalf of those thousand sheep
I counted
And failed to fall asleep
Written alongside my story
Drawn on a rainy day
On behalf of those thousand sheep
I counted
And failed to fall asleep
I am a river that flows
Through medieval towns
With alive luggage laden boats
That anchor at every
Fisherman’s hut
To offload yesterday’s lunch
For morrow’s hungry dinner
I am a pitcher of water
Oozing of condensed droplets
That escaped my sealed lips
And the wind blew
Carrying coded drum beats
Message that they decipher
But never decode
And get that wrong…
moments undefined
it rains butterflies
in an empty stomach
to furnish leftover blank spaces
to cast a spell
over sad moments
a laughter wipes tears
cooked and smoked
over burning charcoal of a heart
a duck paddles over calm waters
to assist chicks
disciplined yet blown by wind
warm invisible hands
caress shoulders all through
while tired feet await solace
dipped in warm lake water
that orange ball high up
merges into gray
to make way for
yet another crescent moon…
