Thursday, April 14, 2011

If my heart has its music

If my heart has its music
I would finish putting
them to words only
when it stops

If life goes on even now
Its just the shadows
That etch out the silent
Tale of the distress
Of living

If there’s a wind
The clutter of leaves
And the rain lashing against
The windows remind you
That you breathe to
forget the storm.

It is also true that
normality is lost
when you leave me
to my music, metaphors
and daily routines,
Without you
They are devoid of meaning

When we pick these
unnoticed threads
and walk the streets
We halt to look back
At the footsteps,
we may be in time
just to understand
there’re irretrievable
and futile
to a large extent.

If my heart has a song
I would sing it
Only just before it stops
Just to wonder
Why I hadn’t sung
for so long

Thursday, April 07, 2011

Speechless, wordless

When should death come?
In winter , summer or monsoon?
should it be caught in  a web
of chill and intricately
smother you in its grasp?
or should it sweat the
life out of you?
so that you thirst and
thirst and die,
with no hope?
Monsoons lash down
the coast in seasons
taking away the dirt, bran
and the flotsam life
that lingers in the margins,
should rains drown you
in its abundance, or
sweep you away
in flash floods?

I know one thing that
thinking so much on death
is a futile act,
for me death came with no drama
no momentum
as I saw myself lost
in vacuum,
suddenly I forgot
my verses
my children
my dreams.
a white sheet of paper
death dared carry me away


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