There isn’t much to write… Just a line or two would do… Every sheet a plain page from a boring book… Leave your bookmark in the 10th page, or the 100th… It seems abrupt, long and dull… And, when you turn the last page with anticipation… You will be surprised that there seems to be no end
- Madras, TAMIL NADU, India
- Not an outdoor person.. prefer to get buried beneath books, music and movies... has these strange philosophies about life that might puzzle you. At the same time, likes to live life. Loves simple people, especially those who veil their formidable knowledge behind humility (The poems here don't reflect my mind or anyone else's. Maybe, just a patch of what various people go through.)
Saturday, December 7, 2013
I empty out memories. I bring out tears. From nook and cranny. Of a withered heart. Of an aching soul. That has left nothing more To empty or to show. But, from the indefinite corner. From the infinite recess. Gushes out a painful memory. A shooting tear. Ripping apart the soul. That is seeking respite. A break from the habit. The routine of redemption. From the process of emptiness to fulfilment. Just leave a space. That seeks no refill. Just a vacuum. That needs no gain. That can revel in loss. Where there is no pain from gain
The cloth that hung loosely on her. It covered just as much as she wanted to hide. It was all that she had. A hanky to wipe the perspiration. A cover up for her tears. That she shed silently. Or the warm fabric That she drew closely. When she felt exposed She tugged it close to her heart. All day long, all through night Even when the dreams failed. And when the nightmares spread their clutches. The white saree that was hers. The cloth that hung loosely on her.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Holding it tight, I shut my eyes. It felt like I would suck in the dreams. I clench my fist hard. To latch on to the past. I wrap them in my tears. And that only I would hear. There was no escape. From the black hole. That sucked in even space. Or like the swirl That spares none.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
As I see it there is mystery. A deliberate cover that hides the truth. And, when I think this is it. An ugly reality mocks me. As if it's a sign or a reckoning. That I start all over again. Veer at a new turn, or walk backwards. Unfair that it demands the same zeal that I had. When I began the journey. With a surety that I knew the path. That I was aware of what lies ahead of me. When I said yes, this is it. I know this turn, I know this bend. Maybe that was déjà vu. That led me to believe.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Somewhere in the sky A rainbow peeps from a dark cloud Drops of rain drench the famished earth A bright sun ray breaks the hopeless darkness Flowers bloom and the parched ground comes alive A familiar voice calls from within Offering a hand to come along Into the woods of haze I walk along wide-eyed Into the woods that offer a hope Yesterday is bygone and here is today