little girl, sings folk songs in a train
old man, creates melodies on a cello by the roadside
music – hope of millions
the colors of monsoon,
dripping from the tips of tender leaves
onto the little bright pink flowers
falling on the insipid pathway and giving it a meaning
their gentle movements in the gentle cool breeze
brings my life to a standstill,
as I think about the immense forms
nature shows its beauty…
There you are, the dream I see with open eyes the fire of my soul; wish I could sit by your side, read the truth dripping from your lies; wish I could touch your hands, feel my rising pulse... Wish you were not so far Wish you could hear my scream Wish you and I were together in the dusk of our lives Wish you were not forever gone.....
P.S.- Checkout my other recent poems Rejection and Beats of a Mourning Drum :).
“…Leave your voice message after the tone…“
‘…hey! Sorry dear, I would reach home late…got work…say my love to Anya…bbye.‘
She listened. Her eyes soaked wet. It was their daughter’s 2nd birthday.
1. Because they think happiness is measurable by possessions.
2. Because death scares them.
3. Because they keep fulfilling someone else’s dreams.
4. Because they have forgotten their childhood dreams.
5. Because they have buried their passion.
6. Because they take life as mere competition.
7. Because they are purposelessly racing for money.
8. Because they think ego can be satisfied.
9. Because they think happiness costs money.
10. Because they think only miracles bring happiness.
crushed beneath the cold nights
heaven has fallen in all might,
I call you, I beg
you are the horizon I cannot reach,
you are the lesson I couldn’t teach… myself
a stranger will I become
a burden overcome
and my silence will thunder
in your dreams…
firing guns and dropping bombs,
bleeding hearts and broken songs,
seconds, minutes, days bygone
where is your freedom, where my own…
cover your eye, bow your knee
I am free…
dripping down his crops –
first cries of baby girl
How can I be free
while dragging the boulders of regretfulness,
while drinking from the goblets of sins,
while soaring in the miasma of pretentiousness…
How can I be free
while moulding my own shackles
of greed, ego,
while bowing down
to the guillotine of deceit…
How long will I be aloof
of my own being,
my death or the patience of eternity,
How long will I take
to muster courage
and extend hands
for my own acceptance…