Unsung

Close by her walked he,

His breath too she could feel,

That unsung tune still lingered inside,

She wanted to but didn’t look beside.

 

Day dawned every dawn,

And she still lived with that song,

Inside of her, unsung it laid,

And she wished he’d just fade.

 

She kept walking, he walked too,

Every time she thought of him, she felt like a fool.

Within herself she heard a myriad of tunes,

But that one unsung, she couldn’t remove.

She walked, he walked by her side,

Never held hands, never turned beside.

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To a Child

I was baffled; disappointed with life,

Didn’t expect anywhere, solace to find;

The blows were hard on me,

The extent of pain I couldn’t deem.

Walking alone, drowning into  perplexity,

Suddenly my gaze caught yours curiously.

You were frowning, struggling to get that shoe right,

Your impatience you didn’t hide.

You saw me staring, with a subtle ridicule,

But, you saw at the same time what no one could.

Though you were desperate to get the shoe right,

You looked up and gave me a smile.

Words will fall short, and I’ll be a called a fool,

If I were to tell how much I owe you.

For you made me see, for that fleeting moment,

The child within me, calm and innocent.

Maybe life won’t get any better for you or for me,

But innocently smiling we will forever be.

If I Go Mad Someday

If nothing makes sense one morning,

And I know nothing of my being,

All of it appears like a joke,

And I walk smiling like a fool on the road,

I feel no pain, and if I know no reason,

If I live and love without any conditions,

And I befriend the most wanted murderer,

And fall in love with the stupidest stranger,

If the cruelest of words and the darkest of nights

Matter not a bit to me nor cause me fright,

If I just sit and weep silently by a river,

If I go mad someday, I’d be happier than ever.

Last Night

Why do you think the clouds cried last night?

Why did the firefly cringe back in fright?

Why did all of it go dark at once?

Why did the raindrops refuse to dance?

 

Was it only me last night?

Or, were you there, too?

Did only I wish to curl up and die?

Or, did you too wish it ends soon?

 

It’s a new day now,

Bright sunbeams have erased the clouds.

But, it’s just an illusion-the sky so clear,

The clouds will cry again, their silent tears.

It

What is it that whispers in the silence?

In the soundless night, what is it that I sense?

What is it that turns off the lights?

And makes daylight cringe back in fright?

What is it that makes musings dance-

Dance in glee’s melancholic trance?

Bizarre I know it is, perpetually,

But, what it really is, is still a query.

It comes and goes, amidst ‘yes’ and ‘no’s;

It builds and breaks; stagnates and flows;

Dark and light; and low and high-

I wish I could drown it in the ocean,

And bid it an everlasting good bye.

A Letter

“The wicked envy and hate; it is their way of admiring.” – Victor Hugo

 

Dear Envy,

 

Ever wondered what this world would have been like without you? Probably not, no one wishes to lose existence. And that is maybe the factor which has taught us to live with all the good and bad this world has to offer. We can’t make anyone or anything disappear, no matter how much we despise them. In fact, at times, we are made to disappear by them. Irony, you know!

Well, maybe you haven’t, but I have. Yes, I have considered your disappearance. Please don’t mind. And you shouldn’t also, for this thought will but remain a thought forever. Fortunately, I have also mused about your existence at the same time. I ain’t that bad, am I?

It pains me to say, but nevertheless, you have been one of the most indispensable and unavoidable part of our everyday life since time immemorial. You bring colour and fervor to our usually morbid lives. How? I’ll tell you how. What you do is, when everything keeps going smoothly and monotonously, you peep in. And lo and behold! You spread your wild tentacles all over the place and strangle the poor creatures. But, fortunately (maybe?), you are kind. Or maybe it’s a god-gifted quality that you possess. Even when your grip gets tighter than ever, your prey is entirely unaware of it. Even as you enter his system, he is ignorant. Peaceful. Then gradually you begin to take over all of him. Now, there’s no getting away No matter how much he regrets, pleads or bleeds, your brutal clutches are indomitable. And in the end, he is all but ruined.

Looking on to the quirkier side, you also do things quite bizarre. You render your prey quite naïve. You make him act childishly. Under your spell, he often does things he would not have done otherwise, whereas, he seldom seems to mind doing them. Sanity takes a sharp turn. Thoughts are blocked and blurred. And reality lies unfathomed behind a thick curtain of pernicious dreams. These are dreams which envisage things you make them to. These dreams dream of a ladder where the dreamer climbs up only and only by pushing the others down, suppressing them and fomenting others to do the same. That’s the ideal you make your prey follow, don’t you? And by the end of the day, he loses the capacity to climb the ladder at all. Sad, but true.

You destroy relations. You make friends foes. You transform innocent souls into shrewd crooks. You kill any clear, progressive element that arises. You leave your prey blinded from all the bliss he could have cherished without you. Bless the innumerous things you do! What could we have done without you! Maybe, half the things that have occurred from time to time would not have existed without you- both the good and the bad. You are the creator of a chequered world where the black blocks are genuine and the white ones, illusions. You are an integral part of mankind. You shape us as who we are.

I am indeed at a loss of words to express my gratitude towards you. You are vital for our survival. The only flaw in you is your health. It’s a pity, indeed, how your health has deteriorated with time. The unhealthier you get, the more toxic your tentacles become. Otherwise, you are the perpetrator of all great things, great men. You are the source of verve and vigour. So, with utopian dreams, I can only hope that you get well very soon.

 

Yours humbly,

Another awe-struck admirer

 

 

Not poetry

A thickening mist of melancholy,

Blurs my vision,

An army of deafening cacophony

Subdue my reasons,

I dwindle back as a canon ball hits me

Harder than ever, it defeats me,

The notes don’t sound right,

None of the scales fit,

Words don’t fall into place,

Someone’s bribing solace.

Someone’s trying to snatch away

All the colours of the day,

Someone’s fantasizing darkness,

He is welcoming mess,

Well, what can I do to him?

What can I say?

Sitting up tonight, I write not poems

But lament over this pitiful disarray.