Saturday 21 February 2009

Death

Is this the ignorance of death that eludes us?
Helps us escape the thought,
and run the daily chakra mechanically?
Is it God's handiwork that makes us forget
the eternal black truth?
Or else we wouldn't move or walk,
the earth might stop.
This earth wasn't meant to stop, right?
Therefore we move along with it,
like a wheel in mechanical motion
spinning on its axis.
Its spins pre-decided.
But we don't have to think of death,
of its finality when we look into the mirror
combing our hair.
Death is just there,
like the kajal in our eyes,
smile on our lips,
love in our hearts
and money in our hands.
So, is the puppet ready to take a backseat?
Who'll ask?
It'll just disappear, there, somewhere.

(Written on 19/02/09)

Wednesday 18 February 2009

I press my lips with the chapstick,
what was I thinking?
Would they look luscious,
attract attention with the pout?
Will it help to not show the otherwise
poor chapped pink strawberries?
I think the pale pink poor urchins
compliment my type, my body.
Lusciousness seems out of place somehow,
doesn't gel with the otherwise unkempt self.
Smooth strawberries do not even provide
self-confidence as big as their pout.
Then why waste your time
thinking that lusciousness makes you standout somehow.
Don't bother the mind into the pout,
the kissing and the meeting of eyes.
It doesn't go with your type somehow.

Sunday 15 February 2009

Woman

The all encompassing, all loving mother, wife,
stands a pole to her family,
a rope to bind them.
The cross with arms wide open,
to take in all the tantrums and love.
To bleed for others' smiles,
shed the water in
and wipe the tears out.
Taking in the fears,
the strength of the home,
the pillar that never falls
but frails.
Withers in old age,
with memories for company.

Wednesday 11 February 2009

A few random lines

(1)
I see, I dream, I wish,
I conceive an idea,
I see, I shatter, I break.
I shed water then I forget
I am low but still I grow,
then again I dream
and circle completes.
(2)
Don't make an effort to write,
it is not in everybody's might.
But still just write few random lines,
not to show off but to let out
the little wish to write.
There walks the great lion strutting along the way.
His kingship worshipped by many,
with no fear along the way.
When will I learn to break,
the clutches of rhyme.
Learn to write
with no rhyme scheme in sight.
The lion comes in sight again,
making me weave dreams once again.
I fly and fly and keep weaving,
never to touch the reality.
There is no wish to touch the ground
No desire to be anywhere
But there and only there
where the heart beats and time flies.