Journal: Serious and Trivial is a glimpse into the mind of a literature student. The mind is a witness to the world around. Random impressions and associations felt, shaped and moulded, watched, recorded in a beginner's mind. It may contain bits of poetry, book reviews, experiences of daily life and the progress of the writing style. Carpe Diem, Seize the Day!

Sunday, July 10, 2016

The solitary reaper


I am a solitary reaper, singing in the fields,
I keep pace with the sun from dawn till dusk;
I sing and speak to the hills and the dales,
And I hum all day to the beat of my sickle.


The valleys echo my solemn voice to me,
I forget the long hours as I keep humming;
My song changes its hue from hour to hour
And I love to sing of loves, lost or gained.

Sometimes, I sing of epic battles of yore
Bending over my sickle in the green fields;
Sometimes, a passing stranger stops to listen,
Lingering over the soft music that he hears.

I see him smiling at my lonely song and me,
As he moves away, I get back to work again.

Saturday, July 09, 2016

Anam Cara


Sometimes, the answer comes late for some seekers. The lonely roads may wear you out; the skies might turn bleak and hostile; the days might spent without ever having a soul to breathe your worries to. 
There is always this desire, the need for warmth, for compassion, for meaningless chatter and meaningful silences yet the road is quite lonely. 
Much later at a turnstile, you might meet a traveller in whose eyes you might see eternity, in whose warmth all your wanderlust might be kindled again, in whose extended hand you might see a soul connection. 
There might be others who have gone ahead and reached their destinations long ago but your blessing is that you value the wisdom taught by the lonely roads, the weary feet and the warmth of your long-desired for companion. 
Photo Courtesy: flickr.com


Sunday, July 03, 2016

Spring


Somewhere after the terrible times, after the turmoil is over, there has to be a spring,

When your footsteps will be like before, sprightly and fast not like the drag of feet across these interminable winter,

May be only you will be left behind to tell the tale, how this went from joy to misery in a single day.

Sense of loss


In a throw of a dice,
In a move of hand,
You threw away all
Went into sanctuary.

The songs of loss,
That spoke of you,
The tiny wings left
To learn to fly itself.

The seething pain
The story of losses
Come back again
In its full sense.

You choke your tears
Without a goodbye.

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Ma

















All I wanted was a pink book full of recipes;
Like the one she wanted to leave behind;
The family kitchen smelling of spices,
Christmas, roast chicken and plum cake.

The shopping spree just before Christmas,
Cake-making at midnight done together,
Your recipes followed to the last line
And the tweaks to the plans that I make.

This book of magic remains incomplete;
The Christmas flavours linger in the air;
Goodwill, happiness and the first time
I had celebrated Christmas with flavours.

The book of recipes, your cooking secrets;
All are lessons that I have learnt from you.

Pic: mariasmenu.com

Remembrance

You and me,
These magical words,
I can never utter,
About another.

You and me,
Like day and night,
Never meet but to play
Hide and seek,forever.

You and me,
Carry an unspoken love,
Unfulfilled yet deep,
Hidden like a treasure.

You and me,
Away but together,
In sleepless nights,
And lonely hours.

You and me,
Wordsmiths who love
To coalesce liquid pain,
Into songs of remembrance.

And you and me,
Like parellel lines,
Stretch across miles,
Strange before strange eyes.

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Definitions


You were no bride in red;
Only a widow-heart unwed;
Yet with the seasons came
A spot of red in your hands.

I was no prince charming;
Only a lonesome wanderer;
Yet with the seasons came
A boat song on these lips.

We moved along these lines
Along these definitions;
In the end you are a wanderer
And I have turned widow-heart.

Yet these roles reverse and turn
Bring no comfort only despair. 

Saturday, June 25, 2016

New Woman












This soul was once like a huge flame leaping to the skies,
Then it withered, dried and drooped to the very earth;
Sometimes, like Icarus, it leapt out of its many mazes,
But burnt out in the heady dash for total freedom.

Then she brought forth a new-born, a swaddled baby
She sang her magnificat of newly found motherhood;
The soul forgot its troubles for a joyous interval
And learnt how to escape the many mazes again.

Yet mostly this soul was a single-celled organism,
Cowardly and crawling in this huge universe,
Too silent, too shut out and too withdrawn,
Incapable of learning or making its way around,

Sometimes, it longs for the crazy days of yesterday,
When the sun of total freedom had burnt its wings. 

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Wake up with the sun!


More than usual,
There is a need
To do something
Different ,
Out of ordinary
On a morning
Like this.

It's a bleak sky,
Hints of rain
Cloud the sky,
While I decide
To go on a walk
After a long time.

The roads are quiet,
City silent,
Signs of life,
Only a few,
Cycles on the road,
More walkers,
Regulars unlike me,
Who on a special day,
Has decided
To celebrate life,
With a morning walk.

Much is done,
Much accomplished,
On a day like this,
When I woke up early,
With the sun.

Tuesday, May 03, 2016

Win-win























PIC: Tumblr

Sometimes, your soul might be weary;
But the eyes are focused on the road; 
And a hurdle crossed makes you happy
Not at once, in degrees as it kicks in.