tell me dear,
would you
speak the words
you say today?
those harsh cruel
words, raw with
hatred and envy
ripping open on your
skin.
those words
lazily thrown
in every direction.
oh what a pretty
mess you are today.
every word
you said,
written
on your face,
those dirty ugly
unpleasant words
determining
your crude
character.
is the words
you speak
who you are?
oh, you will
be when this
fortunate fate
is thrusted
upon you.
so tell me
would you speak
today?
or leave your
skin unattended
with words?
oh i will
fill them up
with pretty things,
with flowers and
sunshine
and pry open
the butterflies
inside me.
for even if
every word you
say today
might not be
imprinted on your
hands,
but surely it
gets engraved
in my heart.
Pyrophoric
she shines
so brightly,
that she
hurts others…
and so they
burn,
with envy.
her hair,
a stream of
shadow
flowing down her
muscular
shoulders;
her eyes,
a magical
story untold
and unheard;
her lips,
always sealed
shut;
and her face,
always
clouded with
mystery.
people are
afraid
of her,
and she loves
it.
her strength
was never
shown,
only felt…
for there are some
things like
power, fear,
and love
that cannot
be said about,
only felt.
and every
night she would
climb the
high hill
and feed
the cats with
milk and
biscuits.
people only
see those things,
which they want
to.
which is why
in her they saw
madness and
cold winter ice;
whereas, she only
saw stars and
trees.
in such a huge
universe,
where, darling,
you live for only
a fraction
of the time…
there is no
one else you
should rather
please than
…yourself.
and maybe,
that is why
instead of looking
at faults and
hatred,
she only looked
at everything
pretty and
crooked,
to please herself.
and that is
life,
not everyone
is going to
love “you”,
but you,
you have to
love yourself,
because the only
person you spend
your whole life
with is you.
and that’s what matters.
Fate
two roads
branching out
streaming out
thoroughly
towards their own
direction
destination.
they never meet,
now do they?
once separated
they go their
own way,
that's the beauty in
separation.
but what if they
do meet?
they merge again,
blending into
each other
fascinating
and a miracle.
finding each other
again at
some point
of time,
even though
what they have
gone through
might have been
hard, forgetful
but if they
bend towards
one another,
a mesmerising
reconciliation.
they might
bend away
again,
or bend together
again.
nothing,
nothing is
going to stop
those who
are going,
from going,
away.
when they go,
they just
go.
but oh,
nothing is
going to
stop you from
winning them
back.
you never know,
just when they
might come back,
bending around
the corner
to merge
with you
again;
merrily.
Wondering
a lone red
flower
a plastic water
bottle lying on
the table
a pair of old
slippers
and his spectacles
on the rough
bridge of
his long nose.
he lies on the
bed with his legs
safely tucked in
and his breath
comes in heavy blows.
his skin is lined with
veins branching
out like a archaic
tree, older than
he is.
and his diluted eyes
in a place far away
from his earthly
ground.
folded wrinkles
of sadness and grief
lined beside his
experience ridden
eyes,
and thin lines
of faded laughter,
of a smile long lost.
even in this cozy
home,
he wears a ragged
old sweater
with patches of
untidy work
covering it,
he wears it as
a proud medal.
looking outside
at the clear blue
sky with little
birds flying merrily,
he is lost.
why, he wonders,
is he left alone
in a place so
sad?
and why, he wonders,
did she leave him here
alone?
she is up
somewhere,
her vanished
hand seeking his.
and why, he wonders,
did he ever believe
in the word
called ‘family’,
when it was never
really one?
and why, he wonders,
did he did such things
that were useless
and cruel and selfish
when now there was
no ‘self’ to be now.
and why, he wonders,
is he still here, when
he should in reality,
be there?
She is.
she is my
better half
or maybe even
whole of me.
and her smile
makes my day
just as fast
as her tears unmake
it.
we laugh,
we smile,
just like
we cry,
we grieve,
just like
we fight .
but the best part
the thing that
binds us
together,
is that she
understands me
more that i do
myself
and i wish to
comfort her
more than she
can.
to be a
helping hand
and her
reason for smile.
to be a person
she can hold
onto when she
smile.
and even
while preparing
to say goodbye,
i wish to say to
her
that ‘goodbye’ is just
a word,
and we, sweetheart,
are more than that.
Tell me, did you think of someone?
Under the Bed
under the
bed
under her
head
is darkness
floating up
in tendrils
coldly
wrapping up
the bed
frame and
the back of her eyes.
do not
definitely
do not look
down honey,
for where there
is dark
perishes the
light.
she trembles
and shivers
her shoulders hunched
in fear
and her
breath hollow
with
nightmares.
her sweat drips
down her lips
and she tastes it;
salty.
her bed
she is afraid
is too small.
and scratching up
the base
is bewitched claws
of some deity.
her teddy falls
its leg squatting
in an awkward
position.
stifled with fear,
she gasps.
small breaths
huge fears.
slowly she
slips out
of the
cool bedsheet
and her legs on the
cold floor
are trembling.
her pale
nightgown feels
too thin,
and her
body
too frail.
she bends down
her hand
familiar
with the
soft hair
of the childhood
friend.
a gloomy
tendril making its
way towards her
bare ankle.
she freezes
like a terrified rabbit.
and in a brilliant
burst of
white angelic light
and pale pink shade
of sparks
her eyes flew
open with
stupefying wonder.
under the bed
light shining out
of it,
like sunlight
filtering from
white clouds,
was something.
curious,
terrified,
exiting,
wide awake,
she crawled
under her bed.
oh and
what could not
be said
was felt
brave heart
explored
a world, bright
and new.
a monster
stared back
at her.
she was not
scared anymore,
as he held out his
huge hand.
he smiled
and so did
she.
this was no monster.
most people
really aren’t
when you
hold out
your hand
to them.
and now
did she get it.
you do need a
little
darkness
to burn brighter.
Her eyes sparkled.
Silence Speaks
how many times did you
speak today ?
you open your pretty
little mouth
and words tumble out.
a beautiful mess
i agree;
but not enough.
not enough at all.
your delightfully
chaotic thoughts
inside that
invincible place
called mind,
smothered with love
and anger and
fear
come out blurred
and disoriented.
put a finger on your
mouth.
i ask you to
do not speak.
Silence speaks
Magnificently louder
Than words,
Do they not?
these thoughts that
lie in your
mind… do not
let them be turned into
words.
they mean so much
more
than what you say.
you say you are
happy;
but you are in
euphoria.
you say you are
sad;
but you are
grieving.
you say you are
angry;
but, sweetheart, i know
that you are enraged.
do not let they
insolent words
dirty your pure
innocent
thoughts.
there is no word made
to tell you
how i feel.
and so i must
remain quiet.
the beauty in
the unspoken
bursts out
brighter
that the
sweetest voice.
look,
at me
and convey
and i will listen
attentively.
no need for
these middle
way conversations
darling,
when our
minds can talk
without talking.
just, for once, let
me hear you speak.
just carry out
this bitter sweet sin
and say
‘yes’.
Morning House
breakfast mornings
&n
bsp; with warm bright
sunshine
and pretty little
plants
lightening up
the kitchen table
and a red kettle
whistling away.
the cream chair
a blue towel
hanging from it
and an untidy
sink
filled with dishes
up to the brim
a background
of a very blue sky
sunny side up eggs
smiling up at me
and a warm coffee
steaming up.
all these colours
these beautiful colours
fade away
in front of
my mothers smile.
And that is how i like to wake up.
Ambiguous
Fog resides