Honored by Usha Ma'am & Rukhiya

And etcetera...

>> Jul 24, 2009

There is a lot of truth in a parabola.
No two souls at either ends
are equi-distant.
Sometimes too close,
at times too far, we are.

Some say, acceptance is one
form of resignation!
I believe, its to know when
we need to take the parched leaf
out of the book and remember
how to forget; vice-versa.

Life is too direct for an abstract figure
or may be an opulent realization.

So, our little moments of truth
hide and seek and lie and die   
somewhere near the rear window,
the broken chairs and the old books
and granny's mahogany bed.

In these points, where
facts and figures and favours and follies
intermix- boil- burn- vaporize and condense again,
You get back life, unaltered.

Need not you say,
philosophies are born where
one looks up to the sky for a daylight
and the Sun is eclipsed,

just then!


[Little moment of reckoning this! :) ]



>> Jul 15, 2009

Perhaps there is more to life
than a blunt punctuality, that is mine.
I have always come early
but been late.

In a life where I never
intended to intrude in your sensitivities
always fearing that ,
oozing is inevitable when its me,
I have waited sheepishly.

Haemocyanin- blue blood, oh its mine.

Like the improper misplacement above,
I have waited and drenched in rain
just to feel what is it to be close to you.
Have spent sleepless nights
Just to know how pure is the Sun
That touches you first.

Today, as you tie a bolder knot
With the one who could say before
(and me? nay ever)

I will be there, mute,
Silently waving at your graceful departure
and wish, if for once you do the cliche',
Turn back and smile, perhaps.

Even if you do, I promise,
you won't see how an ice
drowned and choked in its own fate.

Can we reverse the moment
and never let it melt?


[No more complexities for today. Just a blunt and simple life. :)]


Us and Them

>> Jul 2, 2009

Entwined in the heart are
I and You.
Let us lock them up
in the closet today and
watch her, him and them.

Let us talk about lazy crows,
dead fish, a wet metro
or hustling bazaar.

I for once
(err, I was to put in the s(h)elf)
will choose that hawker boy
who sells roses and buys his dreams,
We buy dreams and sail our romance
- We complement them.

Then you for twice
can select your prey in the old age homes.
Look, there in the balcony, that sorry old lady.
We are together, still counting stars
They are so alone and tired of stars
- They contradict us.

In this com-n-con game, we watch
as I and you come out of locked worlds
and mix in the crowd of her, him and them.

They say,
"its an illusion that you are different.
We have but one life"



The Hungry Tide

Inspirations Continue...

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