Naught

I'll be tearing those pages today, the poems,

I'd like to tear all the words too

shred each one carefully, until

all the letters, are divided

formless, wordless, less,

till no memory

exists in them

no evidence 

of emotion 

or motion

till, stilled

they are

and they

no more

are.

In Between

Awash with darkness,

in this room

where raindrops array on windows

like musical notes

and outside the rain breaks into song,

time lulls between us

and silences words

while you in your Sartre

and I in Borges immerse

till the moments lose

themselves in shadows

and leave footprints in us

In your fist, snared,

my life

choked

till the end of breath

but

trapped, though it were,

my love escaped.

The pin pricks

of lost days

smuggled themselves

into this moment.

In the blink of an eye

scars reappeared

as the soul lay beneath the rocks.

Trampled. Writhing. Trapped.

And then forever

Still. Still. Death.

Defined

That was then.

The secret rendezvous in the diffused moonlight

the long silence of sighs and stolen glances,

the play of silhouettes on the whitewashed walls,

and your breath whispering to me.

And now.

As our life arranges itself like a Courbet painting,

no more the sighs or glimpses or shadow play

setting our romance free

For no more do I need an alibi, love
'cause you already breathe in me.

Tea-cup full

SitLets’ talk banter—fatuous, vacuousthis will mean more to metomorrow,later, in a memoryDon’tLet’s not philosophizethis cup of tea doesn’t demand it,nor do I.Only fill it with silence.EnoughSense is creeping in,we have moved to another moment;no more this.Until another hello.

Only with stardust and rainbows

In myth-making times

With dreams on wet eyelashes

And broken-hearted rhymes

Free-flowing words

That empty this soul

Disjointed moments

That leave a yearning hole

But none of that, my dear

For I carry you along

In bookmarked memories

And a fraction of a song

A You

I dressed myself

And smiled a smile

I got myself a heart

Though for a little while

I stood in pride

And drank my tears

I learnt new songs

To please your ears

I let me dream

And stabbed my bleeding senses

I gave my spirit away

For you didn’t like its face

You were never untrue

Even with your casual lies

You showed your true self

For you felt no reason to hide

You were everything and more to me

If only I had drawn you differently

Orange


A flash of orange...eewww...not my colour..
I saw you...speak think...breathe..
The wind did the trick.. in my thoughts...in your hair...on my face
Or was it the darkness
Which marked our closeness
It dreamt of stories... it reeked of nonsense


White...so fair and blue...so blue
A conversation pregnant with hope
A conversation in my mind
And an evening with words and coffee beans
And those with the moon behind your back
It envisioned tales and left them to die


An occasional smile...
Tides and time moving, ticking or whatever it is they do
A happy feeling deep within
No rush, no blush, no more the sighs
Just a pretty page now that made some difference
I now like orange.

These moments, my dear

Ok here is something ...it is blah according to Madhura's definition and hence it finds a place here. Written on one out of the ordinary day for one out of the ordinary person:

An empty page is all I see

Creased with the marks of effort

No words adorn this page yet

No words have yet come to me

The empty page, is still to me so dear

It flashes with memories of you and me

Glazed, glowing the sepia tones

Appear. Disappear.

But every image speaks to me.

The page in which there is nothing to see

Speaks to me

Of a child, a boy, a man I have known

With heart full of love, a gift for me

A warmth that is the aura around my being

A spirit that binds me and makes me free

A laughter that mirrors innocent feeling

A smile that has always been my reason for living.

The images fall silent

Heard. Unheard

But they can’t say no more

For they lack the language

To express my soul.

With every breath, new images form

It intoxicates me with dreams happy and warm

Intangible as they are. Memory-filled images

Play with me and my mind

I find, they fade, I seek, they hide

Words don’t adorn this page yet

The words of gratitude fail to form

The way I wished. They seem inadequate

‘The moments’ says my heart to me

‘Mean more than these words can state’.

I look at you, now gently asleep

Next to me

A sigh of a million moments

Fills me within

A deep love I have known

In me a deep faith does reside

As on my cheek

A smile and a tear collide.

A Note:

Ok. Screw all promises and resolutions. I agree I have not been blogging regularly( and I am not ashamed, life's busy...and the brain's empty). 

But now, to more important things.....Parents are here...visiting, pampering and making my house a home. The two people in the world you can always take for granted...the two people who you know will never say NO....and the two people with whom at some point and time in life you have had a love-hate relationship.

It's strange how we experience different relationships with these two people- you are first their child, then their friend(of course many don't know what that's like and it is indeed....sad) and strangely enough, later in life, a parent(yes when your parents return to their second childhood, it is often like that). And, again, strangely enough all these roles are worth it.....

So, anyway, parents are here...the house feels warmer, the food IS better and yours truly does not need to be responsible for 10 days. The home is filled with loud cheer, long hugs, soft giggles, music, pitter, patter and thump, thump of feet and a general YAY attitude...

Now all of us who have tasted life in a different city, start feeling a little shifty and restless when asked to spend more than a certain period of time with parents...the taste of independence does that to us. Parents, are thus taken more for granted..... It seems cooler to say "I like living alone" and all the hurt that the parent generation feels is shoved gently under layers of "Well, we are happy for you...you are all so-grown up and responsible".

But dear parents.....we(as the generic children class) are idiots most of the time. We live alone and put up a brave front, only to be able to cope....we claim to love independence, only to console ourselves of all the things we feel deprived of and we do complain about you, only because that's what children do...

But we love you more than you will ever ever imagine and the only thing we want to really do is to run home and live off your money....and stretch our  childhood days to eternity. 

Yet we will still be living alone as pretending adults and still be managing in our incomplete ways...because you have taught us well and well....that's what we( the generic class of children) do.