Categories
Poetry

What really formed those rocks?

Mystical secrets lay hidden
Deep beneath unknown pathways;
Those that were buried aeons ago
Without any hint or a trace.

People today are bewildered
By tales of the same dust
That gathered after the storm
Or the ships that lay coated in rust.

One never abstains from praise
Of the lofty mountains and lions, brave.
Ever thrilling are the stories
Of the austere monk in a cave.

Cyphers with no clues,
Keys with no locks
Keep us wondering for years,
“What really formed those rocks?”

Spells of tongues lost in time,
Alive in a faint dream
Of elders, of yours and mine
May not be mythical as it may seem.

Although if we wish
to travel back in time
Just for a peek at a riddle
written in catchy rhyme,
The journey is not a mere walk
But the laugh of a clever fox
‘Cause it kept us wondering for years,
“What really formed those rocks?”

Categories
Poetry

Not How Often You Fall

Like shards of a crystal, I once broke,
Is the peril that haunts me.
Oh, how the blood oozed across my skin;
‘Red’ was all I did see.

Suffocated by the sound of voices
That keep speaking from my mind,
I’m afraid I’d forget to breathe
Before any solace that I find.

“It won’t end like this!” I say
And subject me do penance.
“It won’t be long; I must!” I say,
Hoping to end all the nuisance.

Days pass by,
Each moment felt like a lifetime tenure
Like bitter medicine,
Necessary, but the only cure.

At last, I felt it;
My time was done.
The clouds had cleared
And I saw the sun.

Each breath, so forth
Drew me closer and closer
To all, I was made for.
I triumphed in all I did, over and over.

Then I said to all,
“It is not how often you fall,
But how often you push the earth
To make the world know your worth.”

Categories
Poetry

Time

The past is gone, the future’s here;
As I live this moment, another seems to appear.
Time is like the waters flowing downstream,
We drink only a portion of it at a time.

We don’t dwell in the waters that flow further down;
We do not dwell in the waters that approach us.
We focus on the water that can be cupped by our hands
As that is what that quenches thirst.

Why then do we dwell in our past?
Why are we anxious about our future?
When we know that the present will matter the most,
Why do we let go of our grasp?

Categories
Poetry

Just You

couple-sunset-silhouette-caribbean-beach-wedding

When we’re both ready,
Sufficiently, for each other,
Heavens would think it’s time
Like there couldn’t be another.
A time to let their story for us
Be declared complete;
A time they think it’s right
To watch it all happen;
Take a backseat.

A story I may not be able to enunciate,
But feel every moment like the last.
You are someone I never lost hope for,
Though terrifying in the past.
My fingers tuck the streaks of hair
That fall over your eyes, right behind your ears.
Your eyes would smile at me,
In a way that wasn’t meant just for your peers.

You understand me even before I say a word,
But you hear me out.
(It’s as if you could read my mind.)
Overwhelmed I am,
There’s nothing we couldn’t talk about.
I play your tunes on my strings;
How attentively you listen!
As if each song was your favourite;
You couldn’t think of another, then.

Your companionship sets me free
From all that I thought was once impossible.
It’s Just You I want,
I could never find anyone more loveable.
The Heavens are happy with what they created
When they see us looking up at the starlit sky.
It’s Just You I need,
Today, tomorrow and any day that could ever pass by.

Categories
Poetry

Burning for You

diya

You hold me on your palms,
Cupping them together,
Like holding a Diya on Diwali night,
Ceremoniously placing me on the ledge.
I look into your eyes
Like a flame.
I see the glimmer in your eyes;
They smile at me.

The winds are my friends,
But are a little playful.
I am glad to feel the presence of  your palms
Around me, against their playfulness.
They feel as warm as the embrace
Of an old friend
I haven’t met
In a long while.

The Winds subside;
After all, they’re friends.
And there I lay burning brightly,
Brightly for you.

Categories
Poetry

The World and its Mortals

This world is home to people.
Some are mere mortals by choice.
Others desire growth
And raise their voice.
Some hinder a flame
That struggles to ignite.
Others watch their brethren
Curse and indulge in a petty fight.

Why do you ask, “Where are you from?”
Shouldn’t his gesture of trust in you suffice?
Don’t take the stranger you met to be naive
He’s just being nice.

People forget
That a Cup is not a victory forever,
But a step to a greater leap ahead.
The same feast on unintended interpretations
Of Words,
To make sure their envious minds are well-fed.
Why do we blame words?
Why do we invite fear?
We look at conflicts like bottomless pits;
Dig our own grave; bring our end near.

We feed our arrogance with insecurity.
We are stubborn as an ox, no matter what truths we find.
Such acts make our brethren wonder,
“Am I among their kind?”

We make a mockery of human potential;
Choose not to have an identity.
Yet this world beholds us, mortals,
Like a deity that preserves Humanity.
Some continue to defile it.
Others, through actions, deify its Creator.
Hope is what delays the End of time;
Holds the world together.

Categories
Poetry

Darkness Conquered

The sword you have sheathed behind your back
Carries a stain of dark blood
Of a ghost that once held you back
Kept you lying in wet mud.

Today this stain is a sign
Of your victory.
Today in your palace you shall design
An endless symphony
Of a story of your brave heart.
You conquered, setting all darkness apart.
With your light, you did emerge.
To the darkness, you were a purge.

And now as you play with the flames of hell,
You laugh as they try to hurt.
You have a story to tell,
How you cleansed your soul from all the dirt.

Categories
Poetry

Today’s Men

(This is a poem about today’s “normal” men in context to the so-called “man” due to which women are made insecure.)

He sits there silently in his room,
Reluctantly spending time with a lifeless book.
He wished he wasn’t there; what else could he do?
The only friend that the world had to offer was a crook.

This man shuts his book and thinks
Why are my fellows in a rat race for doom?
Unable to conclude, he takes his coffee and drinks
And takes out a pen to write what you could never assume.

“I am afraid, not of the dark;
Not even a dagger do I fear.
But I am afraid that a fellow of mine,
Would never again let me show who I am.

For he made her an object of lust,
For he made us one she can never trust.
I despise this fellow of mine,
Who made her a broken soul.
For him, she can’t stand beside us;
I was never a party to this.
For him, we are no longer humans,
But earmarked savages…

All I do want,
Is to hold her hand.
In hope, she would not mistake me,
For my fellow man’s brand.
Yes, I am a man,
But Today’s men don’t let me live like one.
For a man would not want her to weep
But to make a promise she’d trust he’d keep.”

Writing all this, he shuts his book;
He murmurs a wish that might once be heard.
That one day his fellow would be a man,
And let her soul fly like a free bird.
That one day she may know
Today’s men aren’t tomorrow’s hollow.

Categories
Poetry

The Cry of an Unformed Mind

In an age of commotion and seclusion,
Minds devolve into the dark.
Immature minds and their whims,
Extinguish what could have been a spark.

The cacophony of restless voices,
Speak to a mind not formed.
Amidst all hopes and betrayal,
Is a silent pain that comes uninformed.

It’s not a curse,
But a phrase you’d pass.
Things would eventually make more sense,
Even if you don’t sit in a class.

It is the patience you hold,
That would reward you.
Save you from regrets,
It would release you.

The cry of an unformed mind,
Is transient.
Seek answers and you shall find.

Categories
Poetry

The Purple Mist

Underneath the shade of the dark clouds
I stand appalled at the sight of a purple mist
Wondering the source, I walk forward to see
Glowing in the dark was a mysterious pine tree.
I was afraid, my instincts said.
But instead of taking a foot back,
I walked on.

There was a lady with white hair
Under a black, hooded cloak.
Standing under the tree
She spotted me.
I was afraid, my instincts said.
But instead of taking a foot back,
I walked on.

She lifted her hood and to my surprise,
She wasn’t an old lady but a young girl.
She smiled at me and I was dazed
Something was wrong with me,
I wasn’t ever so amazed.
I was afraid, my instincts said.
But instead of taking a foot back,
I walked on.

She asked me, “Do you come in search of something?”
I replied, “The purple mist.”
I didn’t know what was happening,
Not even aware of what I was blabbering.
I was afraid, my instincts said.
But instead of taking a foot back,
I walked on.

“Come with me,” she said
And led me to a house behind.
“You must be cold,” she said,
“It’s just the lavender amidst the fog.”
We sat outside on a log
And talked endlessly.
I was afraid, my instincts said.
But who cares,
I liked where I was
And where the clouds had led.