Sunday, November 15, 2009


It is seldom heard by me and you
That love lives between the few
Who part their ways to north and south
And surrender their love before doubt.

Only one thought rings between his ears
That you’ll be million miles away my dear!
Oh, how will we keep the flame alive?
How will the love surpass, survive?

He loved her more as each day rose
Yet learned not to wrap her close
Still months lied before she’re to fly
And she did go when the months flew by.

Fall falls before winter closes.
And ants gather a buffer of food.
For they be armed before it’s too late
And it is time to hibernate.

So he picked a leaf from the ant’s book
And found himself a warm nook
To prepare for what lied in fate
And be ready to ‘hibernate’.

Unusual promises, odd vows
Were what he wrote on his walls
To remind him for every second and jiffy
As a peremptory strike against self-pity.

And so he went onto ‘hibernate’
With love burning within his heart
Without a tear rolling down his cheek
But her absence rendering him blank and bleak.

He lived as much he loved his life.
Which was as much he'd always strived.
And let women advance with love
To receive some of his in return!

I don’t know what happened next
Nor sure was it this simple or vexed.
Whether spring came to bring her back
Or returned with an empty sack.

Doesn’t matter how't in fact concludes
The boy enjoyed all colors and hues.
And as all love stories end trim and proper
They sure lived happily ever after...

Sunday, August 09, 2009

A Handful of Nothing

I don't know why isn't my blog giving spaces between the stanzas!
I stand on one end of the corridor
While my back faces the wall
While my heels and head touch two spots
I fear the I might fall.
Beyond me lies the corridor
The walls run to meet somewhere
I am blind to where they begin
And it's too dark to see the end.
I open my eyes
To pull them as wide as I might
To absorb the light barely visible
Into each blackhole of my eye.
I let my hands go
Each finger ready at its hour
Stretching cautiously to its degree of freedom
Rooted in the palm, yet very far.
And then I breathe
Punctuated when I inhale
Puncturing the vacuum within me
Fearing my lungs might fail.
And so I raise
I raise my right hand
Down from the bottom of my arms
Parallel to the barren land.
The blackness before me
Does not beckon me, no
But the will within me, albeit slowly
Tries to stir some hope.
It seems ages before the wall
The wall that clings to my back
Lets me go with a heavy heart
To disengage and detach.
I trace what I want, before me
When my fingers run through the air
It is nothing, that little nothing
That falls for my hand's snare.
For I can see
Or just want to see
In this black, a little something
And not, not turn around
With a handful of nothing.
Because pain is not my problem
Nor I hope to see you again
It's the search for something
In which I am spent, but in vain.
For I will go on to search
In this blackened corridor
If only there is any promise
This blacknedd can make for sure.
Because the only thing that breaks me
Is a promise broken itself
It's the frustration that grips me
That all I can blame is myself.
For my naivity and credulity
On hoping against hope
That this corridor will promise
Little more than nothing to swallow.
You will feel the anguish
When locked inside a cage
With keys to every lock but alas!
Endless locks, to cater to your rage!
With every key that removes a lock
The lock appears repaired.
To tease your mind sinusoidly
With pangs of hope and despair.
I talk about the anguish
That robs me of my faith
That renders me cold in my heart
All the way to my grave.