Friday, June 30, 2017

Just be

I think the trees don't fish for compliments,
Of making the world a better place to live in.
So full of bloated egotism and the desire
To prove yourself and bring others down.


I think the clouds don't advertise their deeds
And say its all their doing and not of others.
So sure that it is their words that really matter
And not what they think secretly at heart.

Not that I am in anyway perfect than them
But when I read the secrets of their hearts;
All hope turns to dismay and love to ashes;
Envy, anger, jealousy and real hard feelings.

Yet with smiling faces and heart full of venom
They blow their own trumpets and grumble.

Just Be



I think the trees don't fish for compliments,
Of making the world a better place to live in.
So full of bloated egotism and the desire
To prove yourself and bring others down.
I think the clouds don't advertise their deeds
And say its all their doing and not of others.
So sure that it is their words that really matter
And not what they think secretly at heart.
Not that I am in anyway perfect than them
But when I read the secrets of their hearts;
All hope turns to dismay and love to ashes;
Envy, anger, jealousy and real hard feelings.
Yet with smiling faces and heart full of venom
They blow their own trumpets and grumble.







She












What dreams were hidden in those kohled eyes,
As she raised her dark eyes to his warm ones.
Even now she smiles as she talks to friends,
Or listens carefully to those words round her.

For in a moment of intense silence she forgot,
Whatever that she was before, in one embrace,
Never to be the same again before anyone,
Who knew her before as the chirpy chatterbox.

Now her days are spent in dreaming about him,
From that moment when their souls had mingled,
In a sweet ethereal melody beyond any words,
And the secret pleasures that togetherness brings.

She speaks not to her friends like she used to;
But dreamily lifts her eyes and smiles in silence.


Thursday, June 29, 2017

A cup of comfort













Your words taste like a sip of hot coffee
That I drink for comfort during my day
To soothe my throat, to bring some life,
To clear away all the weariness of spirit.

They pull me out of my tent of isolation
That I weave out  of every crisis I've been
They come out of things that hurt you most
To bring a catharsis always, laughter or tears.

They were about the troubles you overcame,
By finding relief in self-expression in words
Got comforted by strong shoulders, kind arms
And a strong loving heart you called home.

Far away or close at hand, this cup of comfort
Stays around with me like your coffee perfume. 
@missingalovingshouldercalledcoffee

Monday, June 26, 2017

From Your Valentine


The rose is red, the violet's blue,
The honey's sweet, and so are you.
Thou art my love and I am thine;
I drew thee to my Valentine:
The lot was cast and then I drew,
And Fortune said it shou'd be you.

From Your Valentine 1


The month of February is the month of festivities, the time when birds find their mates and that of the Lupercalia, the festival of the god of fertility. For Rome, this is the time when the mobs crowd the streets and there are festivities everywhere. Yet for me, this is the month when I have experienced the optimum happiness in my life with a tinge of regret especially when I have to come to terms with the fact that my days have become numbered. 

It is very cold and even my bones can feel the chill of this night. I don’t know what hour it is. But the little glimpse of sky that I view from my barred window, it looks dark blue with a glow. Looks like it must be three hours past midnight. Not that I was a reader of the skies but judging from the months of captivity and the hours when the watch changed in the tower, I think I have become adept at it. But there is something very special about this day as it might be the last one I might see. This day I go to face my death in the gallows before the huge crowd gathered for the Lupercalia this week. 

There are occasional shouts and celebrations from the streets. Just like every year, this year too many young men will prove their valour in the competitions held before the emperor. The women will be showered with the ceremonial blood from the sacrifice of animals before the god of fertility near the caves of Romulus and Remus. Then, there will be the choosing of one’s bride from the urn of good fortune. Julia will also be chosen by some warrior or the other. Even the thought makes me angry as it brings to my mind a very unpleasant memory of having to tend for her for days on end and then having to leave her side on new orders from the Emperor.

From Your Valentine: Dedication

I love you! 



These are the words that might start a relationship; a turning point from where there is no return. At the same time, many dread these three little words as it might be the beginning of a commitment and the end of freedom. But I guess there are bonds that need no words, loyalty that transcends time and true love that goes beyond death. 

For me, I thought that such things were things of the past yet when I caught affected with a happiness virus from you, what I realized is that it is a time-sent present for all grief. Just like a bout of chicken pox later in life can be very severe, your virus has not been very benign as could be seen from the fact that I am not cured yet. 

Yet in an intensely private world, my sore unfulfilled desire might be a restoration of the status quo, of just being the air around you and nothing else! 

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Heroism














Everyday, we live and die for a beautiful dream
Battle the inner demons for what we stand for;
For the best that is possible in this small world
The best that exists on the verge of dreams.

The fiercest battles with the loudest war cries
Fought with the inner demons not with others;
For we are like the true warriors of yesteryears
Who raged against all injustice and bitterness.

Not that this base metal has turned into gold
But might need years of being in the run
The everyday battle with perfectionism
The tiniest details in its perfect little place.

Yet in a way you praise the might of the sun
Who finds courage to rise up after it's done. 

One fine day


















Were there expectations in your eager mind
As how exactly it is going to be like in real,
With you and me meeting each other to find
What the years have not taken away or heal.

Didn't your heart beat as loud as mine today
When walking down the street you saw me.
Not like in the days of beautiful togetherness
But like a pleasant surprise hard to contain.

For me, I saw you only for a few moments
But enough to keep counting even the time,
My face that cannot hide what it feels like
Or my words that might reveal what I want.

One fine day, this might become so unreal
This longing to have you beside me a lifetime.

Reading for fun















 Can you measure the time it took to savour,
To taste bit by bit and take in your words?
Not that you have left them behind for me
They are all over the place, wherever I go.

The hourglass on my table marks the time,
Though it looks still apparently, obviously,
But the words grab my complete attention,
And it's more like reading a first love-letter.

The words glide across the page at this hour
Be it the ancient stories or lover's quarrels;
The slow-burning desire of lovelorn youth
The ambitions of the powerful and the strong.

Nor do I count my life in terms of big events
But by the tomes that I've read daily for fun.

Harmony