Tag Archives: art

Hope

I will meet you where dew drops wet the lips of leaves,

Where clouds caress the moon,

Where rain drops fill the cracks in scarred rocks, 

Where tress hold hands beneath the ground 

I will meet you in places 

Where unconventional, unglorified lovers entwine, 

Beneath the surface, cloistered and dark 

Within the crevices of universe 

And in undiscovered galaxies 

Where our stories are sung by lost stars 

If only you stayed

He says, Years have passed 

Have they, love ?

I would still break into tears 

If you hold me 

Would you wipe them away 

Like that day though? 

Would you hug me tight, 

trembling hands buried in my hair 

And let your sigh at the nape of my neck 

Say goodbye? 

Or this time will you let go and cry?

He says years have passed

But after all these years the moment hasn’t 

It’s frozen where our lips last met 

Immune to the whims of time and space 

Every time we think of each other 

We are still locked in that embrace 

Darling, we never finished saying our goodbyes 

Colour of your gaze

I could keep writing for years 

And never run out of words for you

But I don’t know how to put these mere alphabets together 

To paint your eyes 

And their transcendent hues 

I don’t know if  I can ever exactly describe their colour

And how they looked under the sun 

When we were walking into the woods 

And you smiled at me 

I cross my heart 

I wouldn’t call myself a poet 

Until I find the word for it-

The tincture 

that haunts my thoughts

With sunkissed horizons and sunset blues  

Writings on the wall


Years, I have spent years

Looking at the walls 

Of this tatterdemalion citadel 

Splattered with my innards 

And bleeding heart 

Years, I have seen just one colour, 

This indigo muck paint on my hands

And Papers on the wall 

Saying the same things,

Different words, 

In want of what?

Sympathy?

 Empathy ?

Attention?

Compassion?

Years , I have spent years, 

Almost seven,

Sitting at this table

Now my hands tremble

And it’s tempting to drop that pen

Never write, never feel, never think

And never spell a word again

One last time

I want to go through this life

Like a nebulous nebula

Of valour, strength and bright colours,

Exploring uncircumscribed orbits,

Gravitating towards destiny
Adrift, so far from this mundane world

In its shades of grey, hatred and envy,

Out of tune with its blues of rutted routines

And when I spend

All the life

Gushing through my iridescent veins

I want to die like a shooting star

Brilliant, even when it is falling

Blazing, one last time

Insurgence

Quit dreaming,

They said,

To their daughters, wives and mothers,

Those bumptious men

But dream, the fickle mistress 

Isn’t loyal to one but disloyal to many 

Be it men or women 

Be it the free or the oppressed 

So rebel!

Rebel against drooping eyelids 

Let scarlet dream burn through the shame in your green eyes

Refuse to lower your gaze

Rebel against the land you walk on in chains 

Let there be war paint and war cries 

This is an uprising,

Rise despite the arrows along your spine

That pierced your organs organs with notions

Of inequality and incapacity 

Rise and heave all mothers daughters and wives to their feet 

Rise with such vivacity 

That virtuous and valiant men shall answer to the call 

And  fight along your side 

Fall has come,

The trees are gloriously naked in the woods 

So all those fallen

Must shed their branded skins and rise

Freedom isn’t asked or begged for

Freedom isn’t granted 

Fight for the freedom of your spirit,

For the chaos in your head,

For the revolutions on your tongue

Fight to remain the beautifully flawed humans we all are

Before they say , 

Quit feeling,

Quit thinking,

Quit living,

Quit breathing 

Almost

Aren’t we all afraid 

that it’s all going to end

before we are ready

for the curtains to drop

and we will never find out

what happens next

but we almost did,

Aren’t  we all terrified  of missing,

Where we close our fists around it

but open them and find nothing ,

Almosts are hauntingly painful

I think she never loved me

is better than she almost did

I think she never was mine

is better than she almost was

Faceless

image

Take away my face,
My name
And what am I?
Would you still recognise me?
Strip off my flesh and bones
And what am I but my soul?
Made of sands of time
And sculpted by heartbreaks and grief ,
Defined by choices and enriched by love
Never incomplete yet never whole
Time is a whirlwind,Unstoppable;
And so am I,
Everchanging
I am never the person I was
When you last flipped your hourglass
I have grown
Or perhaps scattered like those grains of sand
So you could wear my skin
And yet be no where close to being like me
So you could draw by memory every contour of my face
And yet fail to know me