True stories

The shadows that cinder my trail,

Because the way forward is yet and soon later

By what is left, by the move to unknown.

The shadows that cinder my trail,

Because the light leaves behind,

The darkness of the past,

Ahead and with us

The light of the present,

Is that we see,

And in this truth ultimate,

If this is not true nothing else can be true,

Whereas those not in the picture,

Makes what is the picture of life,

And the shadows that cinder my trail,

It signifies for all perhaps,

Ahead is what the shadows leave us behind.

The unlit light

On the other side of the ocean of silence,
The remorse of truth that breaks you down,
Hoping for just another meaningful lie,
Those poetry beautifully unwritten,
Are the pain of the soul that believes in.
For whom does the stars wait eternally in the night sky
For whom do I hold the umbrella, when it rains so distant
In the moonlight of blossoms of waiting,
Morning shall blossom to a new fragrance.
In the burning sea, at the shores of my heart
The waves that beat and disappear, in silence
The fallen flowers and leaves,
Of days that pass by,
And the trees that wait on the trail,
In the corridors of shadowy silence
whoever waits, and wails in prayers
when did light come,
In these dreams that never sleep at night.

The time shall come

The time shall come when
The least of all,
All this nature and its riveted species,
The emotions of all pursuits of hope in love ending in cry,
And the splendid games to fix it, and break it kicking buckets
Shall time it to finish.
The time shall come when,
To see the unseen so fearfully and hear the unheard so endearingly,
To break the mirrors,
To break the slavery and love apathy,
Shall time it to finish.
Kill all messengers, messages won’t end though.
Deface all faces; you may just face it though.
De alphabetize all words, the ultimate
De grammar all languages, welcome to calamity.
The language of cry, hope and love,
The language of all destitute that we relate
No substitutes to all lost and hush,
Why cry in this world--
Which has broken all mirrors to see its face?

The Torchbearer‘s paradox

Recall the moments when you stood amidst the crowd
Reciting anthems in praise and in prayers for
Replete with instances of walking aback empty handed
Revoke it when the voices shout you down in the crowd
The lifelong yearning that recapitulate like a sea tide,
Don’t ask if life is worth any of the games you play.
But if a prey bird can fly back or revisit a trap, lest it fears a gunshot
Gunshot waits, if you walk aback, go ahead astride on memories
Surge through darkness, searching to light up everywhere
Because you are the one who only walks and the way belongs to you
Oh the torch bearer, you walk alone, and you make the way;
Never ask, whoever follows you, whoever shall it be?
But you span through the darkness, lights up the ways,
Yet darkness alone follows your trail.

The earth asks the rain

Why do you leave me and why do you come back?
Perhaps it’s never going to happen,
Asking if things can get worse or gone for ever
It only gets worse, not gone because we give back what we get
Like how when the rain ends, some trickles finally don’t fall or go up,
They just get lost in between.
Perhaps,
The flushing down of waters, from heaven to earth,
Don’t ask what then goes to hell? And we lit up candles to find,
Where do heavens belong to? Is it the water that falls down in a rain?
The candlelight goes out, and the rain slashes down,
Like curtains of separation, pain and emotions,
Break down everything, break it entirely,
But the last drops, they go nowhere,
They just get lost.
The earth that endures all rains,
That carries some down and off to its bodies,
Gives back to clouds to bring more rain,
Whispering on winds to bring more rain,
Don’t ask; where did the last drops go?

A dream left in the middle

Let me sleep, a dream is left to be seen.
Standing in the doorsteps wetting in rain,
Rubbing off the pain of the cold feet,
Requiting the favor of a mind that never mellows,
The shadow that falls back farther so lonely
You are the color of night and its reverie.
Sometimes we might get chilled in this reverie so unknown,
Or awaited in glass bowls in tranquil of hope,
For the kiss of those lips in love.
Oh, the color of dreams that drenched down the rain,
Be wet, dissolve, flow on, disappear and be lost.
None calls from behind, and none augurs to call.
In the doorstep, in the rainy night
Let me sleep, a dream is left to be seen.

Even loneliness is accompanied

As the night sinks down the throat,
Of the day’s deep cavern that stinks
Don’t ask me about the day before,
Or the flowers that were gifted, awaiting kisses’
Why wait for shadows that lean out and disappear,
And voices that lit up every little prayer for a chant unheard;
Oh, and why do the moist air holds on to my breathe in despair,
And the lane that I walk alone is so much the same,
That so many foot prints ahead and behind
Sometimes even loneliness is accompanied;
And I feel to cry aloud so hard.

For the one who sings for me

In the cold dissonance of sleepless nights,
Into the wet whirls of maddest sea of memories
I drown into the emotion of love,
The piano music that your fingers play
The church bells and the hymns of prayer
You taught me how to pray,
Just listen to music, pray nothing, you said.
I prayed; didn’t hear the music, oh sad.
I don’t pray now; I can’t hear the music yet
I try to speak to you; you hear me too
I try to touch you; you are not anywhere
I don’t hear your voice; But I feel you wet
You are somewhere here, and you see me well,
You sing for me,
You invite me to hear,
When my veins slough with blood rush
Your wet tongue wails poetry for me,
I hit my ears so hard; can’t hear a word of it.
I see darkness all around; my senses fail me,
And yet you sing---- don’t pray, just listen to my song,
Oh God, why this to me?
Allow me to pray; make me hear her so soon.

Love is a country in war

Our lives sliming through
The cleaving furrow of darkness,
Though light seeps in so swiftly everywhere,
In the desire for flesh the less and more.
We prefer darkness and are deeply in love,
We don’t see even when we look,
And we don’t listen even when we hear,
We tell more than what is told.
We have doors and windows to close shut our houses.
Ruin, riots, blood-spill, greed and our desires
Amidst the sorrow and wrenching losses of lives
We write verses for lost love than distress of hunger,
Shame on your poetry indeed!
Apart from the votes, notes and populist speeches,
This country always asks who you are,
It heave away your love and poetry in a spin of charka
It makes you hope out of vacuum in a delusion,
And no one speaks to you though voices around sounds you out.
Nobody cares for you, your hunger or craving
Though life asks us to fall in love,
The least of love is love, Oh God,
Even love wants to be in limbo,
For we love with desires intact.

When you succumb to the fury of light and dismay of sounds,
Wreaking out of pain and losses,
Sobbing gently out of sleep-wakefulness,
Savoring the sea with your eyes that pops off.
Come let’s talk, let’s talk gently,
I wish to hear your voice so sweet,
You are so charming handsome and pink,
Why didn’t we meet earlier dear?
I want to pillion ride you in a beach hugging you tight as in a film song,
Or shall we go night walking dear,
I want to touch you like moonlight,
Kiss your eyes like morning light,
Make your mornings dazzling like a flower,
And make you, just you by my silence,
Foolish and thoughtless ass of you,
Am I your truth, dear, is not truth that makes you self,
What makes you lose, are you lost?
What am I doing, what? Don’t ask; don’t write poetry, it’s so boring.

To be angry, sad, and aloof,
Silent and static entrapped in the trance of a glass bubble
You alone can do this to me.
You evoke in me the desires of,
The night’s rain and the misty morning light.
The syntax between the river and its swimmer of being wet,
Those who are silent, measures words.
Searching for new gist and guise,
We don’t wet to be river,
To be a river are we patient like earth,
To bear so low, its subsiding wetness,
Its silence, anger and love, everything flows,
And its syntax quite unknown.

Window that opens to the sea

Across the broken window,
The blood spilling melting candle light.
Between us, sea waves rise,
The moments of love afloat and ebb
The withered and woken up midnight’s dream,
Tears lit by sun’s long fingers at the day’s end.
Horizon bowed by our distant sights,
The unspoken words of anguish and lose,
The angst of despair and separation,
Like the scattered and shapeless shadows of an abandoned street.
These times, you forgive my sins
We are spectators though
The pain of the vain heart that spills ink to words
The words elude like distant sea
Sea till the end of sight and its despair
The melting fire beyond the window
Kissing the dry lips of a withered flower,
I can’t hear you, just the roaring sea.

The color of love

A night rail,
Gently gently coursing the cold rail roads
Many words, stories, sorrows for the rail of memories,
With the first touch of love,
A word wept through a humming so near,
In the solitude of dreams, we are side by side,
You and I tonight, traverse too long in love,
Hum so high in love,
Lose ourselves in silence,
It’s not late ever,
The train heaves waiting for you,
Like the night, the same color, same voices, same emotion,
Same the same the same, by love

A prayer

Atop the hill,

In the silence of shadowy trees

Before the lit up candles,

Oh god with folded hands

Between u and me

The shadowy farther distance

The ways walked, and splitting

Show me the way home.

Oh my hibernating love

Who ever built up nest in these trees

For u and me to sit together,

To enfriend the lonely silence

Fear not our denial or forgetfulness,

To clumber the sky when honey fills up the flowers of silence,

Spinning a silk for the new sky,

The symphony from ur piano in this hillside,

The shadowy trees of my mind-side,

The sunny tracks where flowers wither of their long wait,

Fill in as a song,

Fill in as a light,

Come as a prayer in our silence,

Oh God, please come.