The Eternal wait….

Along the edges
of her modest dreams,
she spins
the purity of sacred love,
as the gentle zephyr sings
the songs of an Indian touch,
She exudes the perfume
of sweet plumeria
and a tender touch
of raw cardamom mix,
Long dark silky tresses
tamed by jasmine fixed,
The colors of her sari spreads
into the blush
of a vermilion bride
Her shivering simple shyness
caressed
her blooming heart which
sighed
Bright sprinkles
of a poet’s brush
swish ballet
for her eyes
stuttering to capture
the moment when
black diamonds cry,
a mystic shroud encircles
sliver of kajal on her lids
the antonym of doubt
in all innocence she lives.
Floats she like a wave
as if reaching for the moon
and the fullness of it’s glow
pines for the aura of her bloom.

She sits at the lonely station
peering straight at the tracks
laid so silently to rest,
continuous parallels
break her heart in cracks,
Two stubborn lines
run a restless marathon,
the destination lost
myths of a meeting-point wrong.
The wait is ceaseless
as she longs in her solitude,
train after train
to de-hypnotise her prelude,
for the dawn of that face
she still feels but cannot touch
as ever so helpless in fate’s clutch.
She waits and waits and waits…
for her soul mate who had to leave
to the call of duty,
and forbidden was she to grieve
He would not come, he would not come…
and it had been
so many empty months,
But how could she not wait?
And keep waiting everyday
For he had made a promise
to fulfill everything said.
It was the vow of a soldier
and she breathed each day for this
for her groom to return
like not a second had been missed.

The story of my helplessness…

 

How do I release me from myself?

Break the shackles

that weighs down

my heart and soul,

I am a knock

and that is a closed-door,

The chains of desires and dreams

flame my essence and burn me more,

The dancing wisps of fire

smokes out my pain

and its crimson desires

then, I inhale it

to pollute myself again….

and this indeed is the story

of my helplessness,

a spirit cursed

into eternal unrest

even if I scream in agony

of what could have been

the vocals get lost

in the noise

of this chaotic, silent world,

a slap of ignorance

falling back

into the darkness hurled,

Even if the universe

was blown out

with blizzards of raging inferno

or somehow

could be plucked out

every sorrow’s brow

How can one run away from

oneself?

my soul is smeared with wounds

dripping pain

forcing into my conscious again and again

This indeed is the story of my helplessness.

“kya hoon main aur kya samajhte hain log

sab raaz nahi hote hain bataane waale

kabhi tanhaiyon mein aa kar dekhna

kaise rote hain sabko hasaane waale”-anonymous

@

TRANSLATION: what am I ?

and what do people think,

all secrets are not meant to be told

come sometime into my solitude

and see how they cry

who pretend to laugh and be bold….

@@@

Incomplete, Unfinished

“I’m holding onto something that used to be there

hoping it will come back, knowing it won’t”

***

I am a story

left

Incomplete, unfinished.

I was started as

flowing words,

continued like lyrics of a song,

yet abandoned mid-way unfinished,

I am the lullabye of a nightangle,

cooing in the thundering storms

but absorbed halfway into the winds,

Lost somewhere between piety and sin

Incomplete, unfinished.

I am that sparkling tear

which leaves the corner of

an almost wet eye

But before merging into rosy cheeks

mid-way disappears and dies,

Incomplete, unfinished.

I am that secret thought

bestowed the support of words

But before it is whispered like zephyr

halfway…is left unsaid

an auto-extinguished fire,

Incomplete, unfinished.

I am the river that births

from the soul of mother earth,

flows with ease through rocks and pebbles

and around thirsty, tall trees,

But is lost somewhere in an abyss

before it meets it’s beloved sea,

Incomplete, unfinished.

I am the plethora of colors

that comes alive in a potrait,

But before the painter

may complete his vignette

the muse dies an unnatural death,

Incomplete, unfinished.

I am that letter

an ardent lover writes

to express the feel of

first love’s spice,

But before it reaches

his heart’s eyes,

He watches his beloved’s palanquin rise,

Woefully, into a waste-basket

the words reach their destined demise,

Incomplete, unfinished.

Kisi ko kya batayein hum ke hum kaise hain

Hum aise hain….

Jaise ke ek jalaa hua wajood

Jaise ek taaza zakhm,

Jaise dukha hua dil jo ho abhi

dukh jaye aur shabnam se bhi

Jaise koi khaali lautaayi gayi dua,

Jaise koi hijr ki raat

Jiski koi seher na ho,

Jaise koi khud ko haara…-anonymous

@

Translation:

How can i tell the world

what i am?

I am like a burnt soul

A fresh wound…

Like a wounded heart

which would hurt more

even when poured drops of dew,

Like a prayer unanswered,

Like that agonising night

of separation

which will see no dawn,

Like someone

who has lost herself/himself.

Note: All the pics above are via google search and i don’t claim any rights over them.Thankyou.