The Walk

I walk through an autumn boulevard
brown leaves lay beneath my feet
their relenting crunch breaking the silence around
silence...off late my favourite sound
I gaze up at the orange skies searching for what I know not
thinking about all the lessons that time has taught
and I come across a dimly lit tavern
sitting prettily across the street
it beckons me warm and welcoming
as if someone there is waiting for me to meet
I keep trying to head that way
but before me my vision sways
I give up too early...too soon
drifting once more towards what I can only vaguely predict...my doom
again the silence engulfs me
forever my faithful companion
and I walk some more, coming to stand by a quaint house with bougainvilleas hanging from its red tiled roof
and from somewhere this feeling grips me
some distant memory of sorts
a little kid staring unseeingly through the window with a stuffed bear in her arms
waiting for some loved one to come home
to tie her hair with a comb.. give her a smile..just once sit for a while
and a tear trickles down my cheek
for the little girl had no one with whom to speak
all these words were there in her head...and all too soon the little girl begins to fade
I try to grasp in a desperate attempt what goes melting away before me
but yet again I find myself in a different boulevard lined with taller autumn trees
So I keep moving on...the kid's sad eyes etched in my mind
and I feel the rustle of leaves as they fall from the trees like floating embers in the dusk
and I see from afar a small gathering of people laughing with icecream cones in hand
tapping their feet to the soft music of a nearby playing band
and all of a sudden rain begins to pour
the happy faces vanishing into thin air!
now with the cheering mirth gone I am left standing saddened to my very core
as the gray skies take pity on me...I lament no more
and my feet yet again keep dragging me into the unknown afore
and I wonder...why is it that I walk these autumn drenched boulevards strewn with flaming leaves?
I guess this afterall is my own hell... where I get one last chance to choose what's for keeps...

The Wait...

On a bed of ashes i lie...eagerly waiting for my doom
cursing the merciless fate for not letting it happen any soon
as murky rain from a black sky above starts to drown my senses
i set my mind free on unchartered memories devoid of condemning fences
thoughts as sinister as satan himself tarnish whatever lies before
sadness impersonated in a grey cloak slowly sinks into my very pores
rotten debris cloud my vision hindering the summon from beyond
blue flames lick my weathered frame setting ablaze a thousand agonizing bonds
my soul twists and turns all the while wanting to be free from shackles forged on earth
what a pity! i can't even remember the day when my smile lost its mirth
freedom eludes me for others' sins have tainted my whole being
now i solemnly await my divine punishment...for death to finally sing..

SwEePiNg FoR cRuMbs....

why would a guy sweep dusty floors in the middle of the night?
with no one but sleepy crows in sight
for him isn't there an open door?
awaiting his arrival after an honest day's chore
the echo of his rusty broom is a living proof in itself
that people work..and that people live pedestrian lives
and that is how at the end of a day..this selfish world thrives
but the question remains..
why could not he wait for the morning sun?
to sweep the ever gathering dust and earn his daily crumbs...

Will there be another spring?

and i ended up where i began
wandering aimlessly on streets where sparrows sang
looked at the faded buildings that were once painted white
which now seem like a dying plant cursed with blight
sleep evades me...thinking of the time gone by
can't remember the faces even though i try
so many lies have cobwebbed the recesses of my memory
that i inflict fellow souls with my stale stories
my eyes seem vacant to them lacking the earlier vigour
but i am unable to break free from this endless stupor
moments have faded...and i am filled with shadows from within
a question i dare ask...
will there ever be another spring?

One windy morning

One windy morning i walked along an idle street
watched with wide eyes
as tiny leaves falling from drooping trees
began to cover the barren concrete
the delicate leaves felt like colorful snowflakes
together with the cold wind blowing across my face
and i wished life could always be full of such simple treats
that in some forgotten utopia i could just be a tiny leaf
floating away happily in the northern breeze
settling momentarily to add color to an aging grey concrete
surprising some stranger even while i lay askew in their wake
but my journey wouldn't end with that..make no mistake
for i would go for a spin the next time wind blew
as i belong to no one and my callings are few
to be free from all that is stale and untruthfully binds
to wander in a new direction everyday inducing smiles...
alas! i came out of my reverie as unrepentant horns blared
a sigh escaped past my lips and my eyes unknowingly teared  
i took one last look at the falling leaves as i started to pull away
consoling myself that it's a frayed dystopia i live in anyway...

Trysts with Disasters

 

Searching for disasters I set out on journeys unknown
and I return victorious with a chastised heart and bloody bones..
Picking stray thorns on the way I bejewel my crown
I hide my worries and straighten my frowns
things of beauty they seem at first
with the lavish promise of quenching my thirst
The thirst to belong...the thirst to recklessly laugh along
the slow approach towards being inevitably forlorn
It's sad how the thrill is lost to possessive shackles that bind
blasphemy seem the vows of  "ever thine ever mine"
As enticing they had appeared before...now they only repel
all that is left to be done is bid a pedestrian farewell
Debris here debris there debris everywhere
A wounded heart teases...whispering "who said disasters would be fair?"
I dare to say...that it is not what every soul masters
to emerge from the filthy wreckage of dancing with disasters
The bones heal and the heart too starts beating again
but sadly...the desire for a tryst can never be slain...

A Conversation with Life

If smiles were charms i would sew a bracelet to keep u captive

If words were what u sought i would pen poems galore

If passion in earnest u desired i would live like i have never before

If u wanted to run free i would paint u wings..urge u to fly high

An endless day if u demanded i would bring u fireflies

If u only saw what i see that keeping secrets is not pilfery

I would have shown u a bright moon in a foggy mirror even

But u intend too many puns..more than i desire

Every time u give me rainy reality when i dream of fire

I am like that genius under a lamp post who wants to unlearn everything

But u give me only autumns when all i want is another spring...

Confessions of a raindrop...

i am a raindrop running down a glass-pane
overlooking a thousand lakes beneath
my frenzied fall...a quotidian event to the creatures crooning inside
some glued to boxes with bright pictures flashing by
some just chatting away...some painfully shy
some wearing a forlorn expression
as if it had been this way forever...and will be evermore
but one i noticed out of them all..who witnessed ever so closely...my dramatic fall

in my race towards the ever-welcoming earth

i saw the longing in those eyes
desire...desire to be as reckless as me
if nothing but free

how ironic i felt 

since i myself am governed by gravity!
it is not by choice that i fall in abandon
neither am i as free as one perceives me to be
my descent is a thing of beauty nonetheless
the rush towards my destiny...into a warm embrace from where i shall rise once more..
to paint the endless skies with rainbows galore
so i willed the one who had a shine in her eyes

to embrace what lies ahead and break free of the ties 

to embrace the smoldering desire...to be free...since freedom lies in the way you see..

to become the reckless raindrop she imagined me to be.....

tell me god..what is my cure?

in a world stained with imperfection i seek something pure
tell me god..what is my cure?
people claim what is rightfully not their own
raiders reap happily what some have so carefully sown
there are ample treasures at every turn to satiate every soul
sadly no one believes in the pot of gold at the end of a faded rainbow
cloudy desires have lured an innocent moon...have stolen its right to shed light
now the tired travelers are only left with a ghastly endless night
even the black and white have lost their battle against a stealthy grey
it is not sins anymore for which one must pay
stone cold reality bites for every dip in the shadowy pool of life
every time the heart dares to emote..gets stabbed brutally with a silvery knife
waking up from rosy dreams seemed to be an easy fare
but what about nightmares in the guise of dreams that are too painful to bear?
a murkiness has tainted the fabric of hope..that once used to allure
tell me god what do i seek now? what is my cure?

Let me be..


      let me spill a little time before i save some more
let me lose a couple of miles before i meet with what's in store
                              let my heart falter a bit before it picks up rhythm again
                     let me do a bit of madness before i continue with being sane
                                               let me be a tad reckless...a break from the usual careful self
                                 let me enjoy being sad before into bliss i again delve
                       let me curse a while before i go on ensuing praises
                let me fling epithets somewhat before returning to cultured phrases
                                   let me don the devil's cloak..the perpetual saintly halo is such a bore
let me be the embodiment of bad for a try...
                                       a respite from the mundane good that all seem to adore
                 let me cry for a moment or two before i fall back on the pedestrian smiles
                                              let me bask in greed before i revert to my ideals of no-guile
                              let me mess up once..for why should it always be perfect?
            let me fake it for a change 'coz genuine is so yesterday's effect!