A Little Dead

The sunshine may soothe the soil where pyres had once breathed

The rain may moisten smokes of wrath seethed

The smiles may persuade the tears of their honesty

Shunned weights may vanish in convincing levity

 

With the solitary peck, the dawn may break again

Concerns may creep into the indifference we feign

Flowers may adorn the branches where the dried were shed

But, somewhere deep, we will always be a little dead.

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You Remain

The speck of a phrase remains among a thousand words forgotten

An unaware chuckle on sudden remembrance of a funny refrain

A familiar call among chaotic unknown shouts

A constant question among several other ever changing doubts

 

The lost affection that pricks among so many other worries that the heart feigns

Thoughts that find ways to sneak and then cascade down the memory lanes

The sudden avalanche of recollections that had been stacked in a forbidden nook

Closing my eyes, they steal into my vision : you and your content look

 

Inside heated rooms, I still shiver,

It still burns in the chilling winter

I try with might to survive the incinerating thirst, avoiding the poisonous rain

But, no matter how hard I try, somewhere deep you always do remain

Crevices

As the flowers bloom after a prolonged chill

The sunshine embraces with this caressing feel

Yes, those winds have left, all so devastating, all so bitter

I know I love this spring, but do I really not miss the winter?

 

As the birds chirp around the lonely rock

It sounds so sweet to hear them talk

With all my heart, I listen to their murmur

But is theirs the only voice I hear?

 

As the drizzling droplets paint the sky

In violets and reds, freedom flies ever so high

There’s this bunch of children smiling in overwhelmed spree

But staring at the sky, is it just their face that I see?

 

Days are now longer than the long awaken nights

There aren’t any more omens of disasters, and nor such frights

I try to cover up every inch of damage with the broken pieces

But, you still do manage to flood through the smallest of crevices

The Rain, Not Mine

Here the moist roads, and there the dewed leaves,

Finally sprinkles of monsoon after a summer so dreary,

A new era, a new zeal of subsiding all grieves,

… If only I knew why I can’t embrace bliss and be merry.

                                                 

Here the refreshingly gushing cold breeze,

And there the comforts of rain, on the soil dried dead,

A blessing, an omen that fears might finally cease

… If only I could let go of the words already said.

 

Incessant silver drops break on the ground

Thunders arouse the all so hopeless dormancy

So many a time I have broken, with a hope to rebound now

…. If only tears could wash away embers of the suppressed legacy.

 

With endless hope rain pours on the crimson rose,

clouds shine on the edge of every silver line

Don’t know why, but the doors keep opening, even if I try to close

Nothing of Mine

The one rain drop that streams down, among the thousand others on the window

The one tear that embraces the frown, among the thousand others that deny to flow

The flutters of your eyelids make mine go frail

I melt in the frigid strangeness to follow your trail

How can you sew your pieces as they were before

When all of mine, tending to yours, have shattered all the more?

 

Unrequited desires burn, with the thousand threads you have tied to my fingers

I get more destroyed in every turn, in search of your scent that still lingers

You caress with glass shards while the red steaks adorn my plead

In hopes of your one touch, I deny all creed

How can you be so glorious in your entirety

When there’s nothing of mine left in me?

Some Timid Hopes

 

Some timid, few simple wishes,

Attainable at first, until reality unleashes

Scurried escapades of a frightened drop of tear

And distance craves for the friend who used to be near.

 

While waves break continually on the shore, the ice remains frozen

How I yearn to be with you, in a solitude so downtrodden

My desires uncover only to be drawn back into constraints

The tired eyes pray for a respite, from the same old refrains

 

Among silent shouts and shaded eyes, pretentious smiles still predominate

Among mishaps, heartbreaks and continual sighs, it’s you whom I see through the fret

Among thousands of failures, there’s this one defeat that I have now conceded

Am lost to you, I give up, I accept that you are all I ever needed

 

My ignorant eyes are just a means of hiding the tears, don’t you see?

Can’t you listen to the moaning beneath the laughters of glee?

Masts are all broken and ships wrecked by the relentless storms in the sea

Don’t you realize that each day I die for you to return to me?

The Lie

The soft breeze welcomes, the sky apparently cloud-ridden

Perfection adorns, while the tired sighs remain hidden

Cheerful at the core, in eyes with a magic spark

But one blink, and it all goes pitch dark

 

The smile so warm, yet the mirror gets covered in frost

In this well built labyrinth, am I allowed to be lost?

As time flies, the truth gets buried all the more deep

As pretense engulfs, realities silently weep

 

As the dusk approaches, it gets so much tougher to distinguish

Does the disguise lead me or does it leash?

This deceit cripples, yet it’s the only way to be

Am I living the lie or is the lie living me?

 

Echoes Of Laughter

The impression is still intact

Of the footprints hastily gone

The loathsome sorcery of memories attract

Along with attempts of wording the breaths long drawn

 

Each day, as newer masks ornament

The soothing, muffled cries, hide deeper

And while the usual injustices offend

Your wrongs, once shunned, again embitter

 

The fallen leaves, the breeze too chilly

Walking barefoot on the thorns lure

Yet echoes of laughter, scents of joy soaring freely

Still nurture hopes of affection, of cure

Rusted

Every dawn, wishes of a peaceful grace adorn the rusted stills

Of long nights spent in accepting every disagreeable defeat

Erratic outline of teardrops on pages conceal

The carnage from where the pasts meet

 

Awakening from a hazed slumber

Faults and rectitudes try to construe

Yet a single innocent memory enlivens the whole massacre

And hastily all wrongs accrue to me, all correctness to you

 

And then every night again, your thoughts attack with a thousand arrows

And I apparently try to battle

But on the sunsets of the lonely narrows

I again argue how your invasions were justified, and mine indefensible

Vine

The snow scorched, unbelievably, and the rain dried

Comforts pricked while the usual silences cried

Every hope dead, the angels don’t look in the eyes

Trust is illicit, and expecting, a vice

                                 

Every ardor killed in an attempt to get sturdier

Every last chance compromised in rueful fear

Questions get lost in tangles of a vicious vine

All I ask is, was all the fault really mine?