The colour code

The colour code scheme of unity
At times the actions and words 
Never match the intentions
And sadly we can agree.

The equal codes of blue we wore
On a day that matched an aim
Always trying to prove better
Than try to work together. 

The colour code of yesterday
The colour code of today
The colour of tomorrow
Will be our shades of nature. 

Sometimes it matches dreams
Sometimes it does not.

  

Pursuit of happiness

The purple riot began
And took root slowly.

Who would've thought
Who would've known

In the rear view mirror
It looks like spring again

It's snowing every morn
And melting by evening.

The beauty that returned
The songs that don't cease

One day sitting nearby
Feeling the full purple riot

The deep desire in your eyes
That sang to me whole night

The hand that almost reached
The purple riot in your heart.

Beauty

Artemis and Athena 
Walked in these corridors; 
Until in your eyes
Aphrodite was wakened.

But all the gods are aware
Of this sea-change
That has brought nothing
But trouble and beauty.

Muse

A muse who made me smile, 
Made me cry, versify
Once again

Darkness

The Sun feels unworthy
To be the source of light; 
What ifs scream in its head.

You could fly and find a star
New, devoid of blemishes
Old scars or its reticence

Yet the Sun falls into darkness
When this daily mirroring
Doesn't happen as imagined.

Move On

You can help me get over you
I can help you get over me
May be that's what is love

Fickle

A wall was built
Between two souls
That loved well.
But if I fly out
Of this maze
Everytime
This happens
What does it
Make me?

Smile

A childhood smile
Mirrored in two faces
In a new season of love

Unreachable

The music of voice 
Once tasted
And made forbidden

Desire of the moth for the star

Night for the morn
Is that what you are?

Apology

Who am I to give you dreams and then spread snow all over them? No one would do that if they are in their right senses. But sometimes, when nothing remains sacred anymore, there is a sense that comes with breaking rules and running away from multitudes.

Now, the words themselves have lost meaning I guess from the time I last uttered them; totally meaningless chatter full of nervous laughter that doesn’t make much sense. May be the Gods are cruel because I am cruel to you; or may be they are not.

Only time is judge as to the torture that I inflict on you by giving dreams one day and spreading it with snow the next day. Words don’t mean much do they, but let me say that I am sorry for all this mess that I make everyday! 

Kingfisher

Closure

On this visit to my hometown, I was reminded of my last visits as I walked across the River Green. The river looked like a huge sheet of dirty green water while in my memory it was always a shiny green.

The last visits were on deaths; I never cried enough though I was carrying a cross and stood brave among the wailing women. But this time, though on a happy occasion, I felt the tears as they tumbled past on my return journey.

What all things I cried for I have no clue, the wasted years in search of a mirage, the lost opportunities, the life of strife and constant unpleasantness. But it gave me clue to a puzzle: that you might become for me a mirage that I will follow to destruction. 

Beauty

It’s a craterly moon

That gets up at night

Puts on some light BB

And steps out for you.

No luminous skin

Just some BB cream

That lasts through

The entire day

With kissable lips

From Maybelline

With dark eyes

From the same

It was a fool heart

That knew no joys

That put on all this

To walk around happy

There was no bloodsign

Of joy and desire

Only a broken heart

But only sore words.

But time healed words

And the moon steps

Bright and clear

For all eyes to see.

It’s just layers of paint

Painstakingly done

From BB, CC and DD

Not what you think

You are late my dear

As always to reach

For a craterly moon

Belongs to the sonne.

Prayer

Can’t still this crying heart

That cries along with an innocent,

One wronged, accidentally,

One who wears his heart on the sleeve.

This heart cries everyday, every moment

For I have sinned against an innocent,

One who hasn’t learnt the ways of the world

One who wears his heart on his sleeve.

For seven long years I have not prayed

Nor moved these lips to silent reverence,

Whatever religion was only for comfort,

Not since I lost love on the way.

A right signal read at the wrong time,

My dear, it was only an accident,

But one that showed a clear heart

Untainted by this world of false love.

Can’t bear to see your broken soul,

Your sad face and lost happiness,

That tortures me day and night, so

I take up my beads to pray once again.

Secret Passions

When I first saw you I thought you looked familiar but I couldn’t place my finger on it. But in time, I remembered that it had something to do with the songs in another time and space, though lost and gone. Your mannerisms could bring back a secret passion for a quiet matter-of-fact friend. Without my knowledge, summer turned to spring and heard a new music from your heart, one that couldn’t understand nor could listen to without being led away from my real world. So turn back, clench my fists and try hard not to let the enemy of temptation enter my fortress. But the world around has not been blind either for there are no secret passions anymore but only hearts that crumble with every smile, real or fake. 

Adorable

You are my reason to smile when all around life has become weary and tired. You worship me like a goddess counting each and every one of my steps on the ground while I rush past through the hustle and bustle of life. But in the toughest of these times, I hold your love like a talisman close to my heart; looking at your innocent ways to make me feel special, loved and cherished. 

ancestors

understanding

Love

I would have become a different person today had it not been for you, with your insistence on the meaning of love. Like a fool, I danced to your many tunes only to find you changed at the end of the journey. Our paths have diverged and we no longer see eye to eye and in the midst of all this, a giant wall has been constructed. You are no longer there for me and am no longer there for you; the end of another true love story.  

Stories

In a way, each story has the same kernel in it- our dreams, hopes and longing all lost and found again- the fire and the smiles and the hopes that love kindles and brings joy.

The stories that we write are not what really happened or events that could really happen. These come from an imagination that loves to wander and see what would have happened if!

Sometimes, it is sunshine and laughter outside; depends on the state of this mercurial soul. The reality looms large taking everything away and sometimes giving blessings unasked for.

Your stories reveal the joy of finding happiness in new things, which are in fact, new ways to name the old likes and loves while I harp on change and about moving on but have stayed in the same year where I stopped learning.

The fire still burns in these kernel stories of love, longing and loss and we have become like straight lines that run along throughout the many lives.