Flight of a Lifetime… (short poem)

flames of perseverance
be thy side, fanning thy aspirations
no goal there is
unreachable, let go of fear
spread thy wings of will power
the green lands on the other side know thy strength
plunge into the depths of uncertainty, opportunity awaits thee
no territory unconquerable
shed thy apprehensions, and take
the flight of a lifetime…

When the Sun Goes Down… (short poem)

silver spoons, gold crowns
silently wither in the rage of dawn
cries of moon, feeble voice
behold the tide, when the sun goes down…

dreaded paths, silent screams
broken pieces of shattered dreams
departed love, lovers forlorn
behold the tide, when the sun goes down…

misty eyes, funeral pyres
carcasses of unfulfilled desires
kin or foe, who is gone?
lo and behold, when the sun goes down…


Color of Monsoon. (Short Poem)

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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…

P.S. – Read my other recent haiku Monsoon Drizzle and poem Forever Gone 🙂

Forever Gone. (Short Poem)

 

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 :).

 

Rejection (Short Poem)

In moments of rejection
my heart paves a path
through unseen doorways and unseen alleys;
my eyes look for a distant gleam
beyond the sea of uncertainty;
my legs want to run, and run
from the pointlessness of being and not living;
my mind weaves intricate webs,
concocting ideas I could not thin before;
my soul begins to break,
transform into moments of transience
as I take a deep breath,
smile,
and dive into the well of endless opportunities…

Beats of a Mourning Drum. (Short Poem)

Like each breath, inching closer to the chasm
that knows not mercy,
I am stepping on your soul,
with a mourning drum,
playing the tune of sorrow, of grief.

I am nurtured by your ignorance
I am everything you fear from,
You cannot escape…
Ye cannot slay…
I reign over you…
I leave you lifeless…
I am your darker side…

What does Johnny Kay say. (Part 1)

See the big picture, my friend. Everyday living is painful anyways.

Johnny Kay has always been the same. Johnny Kay. J-O-H-N-N-Y Kay. The grey shade in the life of his close ones. 70 year old soul trapped in a 20 year old body. That is Johnny Kay. Living for the love of music. And books. He could read Dante and Shakespeare at the same time and with same devoutness. 5 feet 5 inches tall Johnny Kay, falling 5 inches short of his parents expectations. Curly hairs. Always seen with those square-framed pitch black spectacles put on. The world would love him or hate him, but it could not deny his existence. Johnny Kay, or as his close ones called him, Yokay, a portmanteau of Yogi and Kay; Yogi because Johnny had started his walk on the path of enlightenment very early, though he could not go far since his parents wanted him to finish his graduation first.

‘Why are you always like this? Go out, meet people, make friends!’

‘How many friends did you make today, pal? Five? Ten? I tell you, books are the only friends that won’t betray. Be wary of people.’

‘Oh! I see. I see. Johnny Kay is afraid of betrayal. I thought, you weren’t afraid of anything in this goddamn world!’ , chuckles his friend.

‘Well, even robots are being trained nowadays to learn emotions, feel fear. I am definitely afraid of certain things. Like dog. Like darkness. But not betrayal; as Murphy’s Law says – If something can go wrong, it will, and it will in the worst possible way.’

‘Okay. And what does Murphy’s Law say about the distinctive eerie smell that has filled your room?’, said he while covering his noes with him palm.

Johnny Kay has lived the same way. His room smells as if he has housed a corpse in the net room for eagles to feast on. Except that it is not the corpse but a pile of unwashed clothes from the week before, and the week before, and the week before; like the clothes have been there since the universe came into existence.

‘I can see that you aren’t accustomed to the smell. Feel free to criticize. It’s a democracy anyways.’

‘Can’t you get this pile of shit cleaned?’

‘Just because you can do something does not mean you should. Like I can break your head with this tennis bat right now, but I won’t.’

‘And why would you not do that?’

‘Because your brain is like this pile of clothes. Full of shit. And I won’t want that my room starts smelling worse.’

‘You think that you have answer to everything, isn’t it?!’

‘Nope. You come up with so many questions. And none makes sense to me.’

‘Okay. So you discuss sensible stuff eh! So tell me. Why is there so much poverty in our country?’

‘Did you measure poverty?’

‘Nope. But people say so. And everybody is seeing it.’

‘And what are they doing about it?’

‘What can people do about it?’

‘Exactly my question to the people.’, smiles Johnny.

 

P.S. – The character of Johnny Kay is purely fictional. Please feel free to share your views in the comments section 🙂 . Nothing is of greater helpful for a writer than honest criticism 🙂 .