Tuesday, 3 April 2012

I like it when it rains,
Trees hide under their tiny green umbrellas,
While grasses spread their arms,
To welcome the drops into warm earth.

The wind takes the chill of the drops,
That rupture the scent bottles of the earth.
The fragrance envied by flowers,
But their stems dance in mirth.

Misty looks the day,
Mighty sun coats away.
Clouds come down to get wet,
Eagles gaze from high away.

Birds meet up to chat,
Share towels on the tree.
They need to dry their wings,
And talk of flight against the wind.

The rivers and lakes,
Set their buckets straight,
And waves along the shore,
Hits with all its weight.

Love just springs from air,
And wraps all within.
Passion drips from eyes,
And blood runs akin.

And rain just drenches all,
Hide within or without.
It just merrily falls,
Rekindling all about.

The sun just waits in desire,
For rain to finish the dance,
The clouds to come up and dry,
For sight of the earth’ shine.


Monday, 2 April 2012

Why did you have to cut the string?
It had my clothes drying on it.
It had your smell on it,
I wore it by night.

Where is the bed sheet?
Our crumpled giggles tucked under mattress.
The only company,
To our night long chats.

I hated the pillow; you insisted it to be pink,
But it smelt of lilies; of your hair.
Seen kisses between fights,
It has moles of our tears.

The blanket under which,
We picked stars as yours and mine.
And chose a place to be together there,
When done here with our time.

The closets have locked themselves up,
They say you have the key.
What do I do with the bunch I have?
The door wouldn’t answer, I can’t even unlock me.

The tea doesn’t taste warm enough,
It tastes cold as death.
The stove doesn’t light,
It lacks the passion to burn.

I see through the window of life,
And find myself stranded in.
Why have your fingers grown so stiff?
For strength, my fingers can’t grip in.

I don’t have anything left of you,
Just memories, even that have turned grey.
You didn’t have to cut the string my dear,
My clothes still lie astray.


Sunday, 1 April 2012

I want to dance,
To the rhythm of the silence.
Silence of someone’ presence,
The melody of the breath.

In the light of the eyes,
I want my feet to tap at every thought.
I want to grip the arm of the moment,
And swing with it.

Smell the neck of my desire,
With a tinge of sweat, of vigour.
Hold the waist of my dreams,
Just tug it closer, to me, my heart.

Feel the warmth of the presence,
Of someone immaterial, omnipresent.
Dance on the stage of its eye,
As it sees me naked, desire less,
burnt, charred, still red, burning.

Wreck myself, shatter my knees,
Dance to every breath and thought of it,
Relentless fire, taming the sun god,
Shatter the earth by the weight of my anger.

I want its eyes to water,
So much to calm me down.
But I wont, coz I love it so much,
and i want it to be known.

I want to stare, deep into its eyes,
To see the hidden lies, the untold truth.
Coz it keeps me from my love,
It keeps me away from me.

I want my heart to belch,
To break open and leap,
From the cage of my heart,
At the tip of its feet.

Standing in the corner,
Watching me burn from within deep,
Atleast then;
Atleast then, silence would speak.