Four Decades And A Poem
Page 6
Dj
It’s gonna be alright,
By the time the sun touches the horizon
By the time, it’s time for us to sleep,
Situations forgotten,
Troubles, lost in the dead of the night.
The rhythm of the night will play you a melody
While your troubled soul will waltz
to the ballads in your dreams.
I am persuaded to believe
your heart has begun to smile,
and see rays of the next sunrise,
as I fight to understand what made you so
restless at the mistakes we made today,
Those, usually overlooked
and I wonder if I have said or done anything wrong.
I don’t recollect…
Cause I am so used to saying things
and doings
that I don’t have to think you can tolerate.
I feel the silence as Fausto Papetti
plays Emmanuelle in my ears,
To finally see peace on your enchanting face,
your light snoring, confirming
you’re not troubled anymore.
My job is done,
I fade the music and switch off the lights
I have been your DJ for the night
Playin’ you the tunes you so needed…
Cherry Blossom
Trains slide to and fro,
station crowded
as if to watch a rare solar occurrence,
jostling, rushing
feet stamping…
My right foot goes up his pedestal
for the third time today
“Sahib, extra shine?”
He asks, catching the tossed coins…
Accompanying
My soul wanders
like a thirsting eagle
over lands far and near
and beyond cosmic horizons.
I emerge from deep oceans
and disappear into somber clouds,
I appear to the raindrops
crying over your pain
and fade with the rainbow,
I dance to the sunrays
and vanish like bubbles
of waves upon the shore,
I swirl with the whirlwind
to be found in your thoughts,
I whisper to your sighs
and alleviate the sore winds…
What would I not lose
to win your love but this life
that I can regain no more?
When your dreams die out
and your heart has come to life,
ready to love again,
~ I’ll fly away…
One Sided
When life is a one sided game
we’re left to contemplate
who the winner is.
Though one sided,
the game does have two players
both strong, headstrong.
Today there is turmoil on the board
you played your move
while I am playing mine
alone, one sided.
On your subsequent move,
I’ve decided neither to attack you
nor to play my move
but simply move on and let you win.
~*~
sand tickles pebbles
running to shore now and then
~ waves laugh and crash.
~*~
A Mother’s Lament
Sleep little ones, this night will be long,
Let peace not be disturbed with light of day,
Sleep gently, until angels sing a song
and heartless men come to take you away.
Staring at your sleeping remains tonight,
Frail bodies wilted in profound slumber
Like flowers trampled in a horses flight,
Deafened evermore to bombing thunder.
Sleepy guiltless faces soft with sweetness
Strength curled up in the stiffness of battle
Blood run deep beneath the soil so ruthless
While tanks and arms roll over and rattle.
So sleep now in my arms like a kingdom,
gently, until you soar to your freedom…
~*~
without complaining
blossoms give birth to sweet fruits
standing in the sun
~*~
The Strength of a Man
The strength of a man lies in his dreams,
Dreams fantasized from the strength of reality
Bodily strength can achieve these dreams
With the strength of his soul guiding him.
The strength of a man lies in his heart,
A heart built on the strength of his love
Love, bringing comfort and strength to others
The strength needed to live from day to day.
The strength of a man lies in his hands,
Not in strength and sharpness of swords
Not in the strength and impact of his blows
But in strength and power of his soothing touch.
The strength of a man lies in his tongue,
In the strength of the words he speaks
Revealing his strength and stability of mind
The strength needed to control his dreams.
The strength of a man lies solely in him,
In the strength of his dreams and goals
In the strength of his beliefs to overcome
and the strength that is bestowed upon him.
The Yellow Leaves of Autumn
Summer’s gone,
and every morning I now see
new leaves adding to the sidewalk,
The older ones turning crisp,
crushing under my feet.
Some look like crescent moons,
others like stars,
and I wonder why
when the weather is so pleasant
they can’t cling on to the trees?
Why, when the sun burnt them,
they danced so merrily in the summer breeze?
Is it the winter they dread?
And then I guess the purpose of life,
How everything must come to an end…
Relationships, seasons,
fame, life’s games,
and at last, life itself.
The leaves of autumn,
they thought me to bear the pain
that comes with everything that ends,
I could hear the leaves whispering
as they rustled
in the soft morning autumn breeze.
Soon there’d be a spring
and a memory to go with every tear…
Beyond the Horizon
In the quietness of my solitude I see,
a soldier, a mother: streams of emotions,
nameless, unfamiliar faces.
Beyond the horizons of my mind,
where the sun never sets,
and the dreadful dawn deafens
the laughter of his children.
Beyond the horizon, a season of fear,
rage and uncertainty,
blows winds far over his home.
In the quietness of my solitude I hear,
a soldier, a father: a falling tear
innocent familiar voices.
Beyond the horizon, sacrifices
turn into joy or pain,
when he returns home,<
br />
~ loser or a valiant fighter,
amidst smiles or tears,
into arms stretched out or holding…
The soldier, in every way, a hero.
Evaporating
I stepped into the garden this morning,
while the dew
was still on the flowers,
Basking in the soothing sun,
catching glimpses of nature’s exquisiteness,
buried bottomless by my busy life,
as drops glided like children over slides
on merry evenings.
Each drop like a universe,
held a marvel of its own,
feeding my arid soul.
S
l
i
d
i
n
g
like teardrops
over smooth delicate rosy cheeks
and evaporating.
Off Balance
Our love has turned me into an acrobat,
and I am walking the tight rope
every second of my life,
keeping equilibrium
so my mind may not explode,
spilling sparks of sorrowed solitude,
throwing me off this thin-skinned twine.
I wonder where and what I am,
As I am holding on, onto this fragile rope
and walking on it at the same time
balancing frustration, anguish and loneliness
with fake satisfaction, delight and company of strangers.
Silently I beg unto you
to have pity on me
and make me suffer no more,
but you can’t hear me…
no more.
‘cause,
you have reached too far
that the voice of my insufferable soul
doesn’t resonate to where you are – in a world of your own.
Soon I will fall off balance,
the weight of despair and isolation
has taken its toll…
An Ode to Myself
I followed the sun, crossed the rivers,
Scaled the mountains,
Stumbled, scraped and bruised.
In my younger days
The mountains seemed so high
and the rivers, deep.
I grew,
These mountains too
and the rivers grew even deeper,
Washing me out into the vast ocean.
The feelings, haunting, tormenting,
The people I used to die for,
Changed.
And my feelings for them changed too.
Even though in their own time and phases
of torment and vulnerability.
Many times I died
and resurrected,
Because the world I live in
Never got enough of me.
~*~
chime of falling pins
sound like rude thunder
~ meditation
~*~
Love and Lust: A Perfect Spell
(Shakespearean Sonnet)
Left on edges of very sharp pieces
Mistaken visions drowned by unflawed lust,
My heart followed all your whims and wishes
The fire of one night turned all to dust.
Soul and body fluttered to touch your face,
And gravity failed, to keep me aground
Flying in cloud nine as my heartbeats raced,
Hearing your whispers like spring breeze around.
The farewell has left an endless simmer
Our time together doesn’t seem squandered
Passion still wakens from its slight glimmer
Coming back from wherever it’s wandered
Our bodies and soul cast a perfect spell
Love it was, our heartbeat and eyes could tell
~*~
calm nocturnal hours
watch cicadas one-eyed
awaking the hills.
~*~
Lost Pages
Life is at the centre of its reading
taking a bit too long,
Suspense,
protracted in the face of complexity,
Halting, wasting time to find meanings.
Sometimes the pages are dog eared
and we have to unfurl
the surprises it holds for us
waiting at the corners.
But what can we say of life,
when the thrilling chapters read
spending half our lives
are forgotten,
Pages torn, lost and dampened
on the green grass of yesteryears?
And then, how can we complete this story
with missing pages?
Love has no appearance
I have not been pained to see our feelings fading and dying,
From a purest, my love flowed and pierced your once seeking heart,
Overwhelming every love and nature’s altruism.
I have not known a world existing of shame or fame,
Oblivious to labeled facets of love, but one.
Love is for those to take and for whom it is given freely,
Without complaint, without expectation, without hesitation,
Not for the refusing, but for the bruising.
You can’t blame if love doesn’t know how to stop,
As much as I want you to go away, that much, I want you to stay.
Finding new happiness is not finding love,
For happiness is but ephemeral, fleeting like the dawn,
Like a bad dream, that has no connection with love,
And fades before the sunny morning comes
But love is buried like a tuberous root waiting for the rain.
If love was of one kind and for just one creature of this cosmos,
I’d lock my heart and wait for an echo, of one who holds the key,
But love is supremely vast and with no form,
Like the source of creation I acknowledge with every tick of time
and bow before you as though you were my God.
A Life Still Beautiful
Thank you for saving my life,
It was vital then.
In those critical moments,
- all I needed was life…
My death began as your blood
ran through my veins,
Slower than tongues
spreading news I had AIDS.
I became the child whore,
punished by God’s wrath,
and this scourge, my fault.
How could anyone hold you responsible?
How could anyone victimize me?
Terrorize a life I still found beautiful.
They have been terrified
of touching the mud from my grave,
Truth unknown, my story unforgotten,
Even though my body has long been rotten.
Thank you for saving my life,
You were not responsible then,
Not now or ever.
- For all I needed was life,
and you gave it to me…
The Unsung Village Hero ~ For Dileep
The folk made your life a mystery,
A legend to travel down the generations.
A child trapped in a man’s body,
intoxicated in a world of your own
with nothing to blame the
end.
The folk made your life a mystery,
Possessed by the devil who stole and
flew you into the depths of the black forest,
where the village could hear your wailing
and the sound of beating - far, near, then far…
A legend travels down to the generations
of your brilliance, and what became of it,
The part of the village life that you were
The life of the village that you were –
A mere Market Square entertainer.
A child trapped in a man’s body,
You loved the company of children.
You desired to go to school it seemed,
Going there while the children returned home,
Crying to see no students or teachers anywhere.
Intoxicated in a world of your own
where everything seemed senseless
to you and to those around you,
“Taking” to smoking two cigarettes at a time,
Offered by cocky brainless fools.
With nothing to blame the end,
your end ended everyone’s burdens,
As an angel of mercy led you to that black forest –
to be lost and found in your usual tattered suit,
decomposed and resting in peace…
Leaving No Spaces
When the eternal daylight fades
turning into Eden, your brief absence
like delayed creation finds me by myself,
Lured to eat the fruits of my own accord.
Spaces among sheets feel like your subtle skin
My own breath clenching as you leave me naked
in craving that will never be lost or faded,
Our hundredth moment feeling like the first.
I, no stranger to the soles of your feet.
your every curve and nerve visible or not –
Those that speak your demands to my soul.
My brain cells daubed by your perfume
replays our last refrain of last morning,
While your perfume in the room enhances.
The Builder
Death,
warrants him hope, a new promise.
It isn’t his childhood horror-tale-terror anymore,
With illusions or shadows walking
into the midnight until dawn,
fears of silent nights,
and whispers of the dark wind,
or the qualms of another dying soul.