TO ROOTS

Scattered like withered and fallen leaves of winter..
My destiny must be to stray,
shaken by wind's cold hands
and thrown afar
and to rot and merge and be nonexistent..
No need to struggle with fate,I know,
but some foolish pride inside
yearns for a return to the Tree,
be in union with all of me
brought back to the stump,
and be complete.
Instead I'm seen by some busy morning broom
or some flashing lens
or shamefully by some philosopher's eyes..
Only the wind hears my wish
and with laughter carries me to roots spread everywhere...

HAWK

A hawk is a hawk,
though its wings are cut.
You cannot ask it to adjust,to tune in,
survive and excel
living the life of a subterranean.
It has been born high;
It perches on the topmost branch.
The wind is its minister,the sky its empire.
It will remain the same bird,
even when it crouches in the wastelands;
The same,
when it fails amongst the four-leggers;
It will still dream of the sky,the wind
and the pleasure of being what it is.
Each day and night,the prayer will be
not to exist lying low,
but to cease to be,
if it cannot live as a hawk.
A hawk will always be a hawk.

Beyond the Thunder

Beyond the thunder

The thrill of facing a lightning with a smile

When it flashes..

A momentary fear precedes the decision.

A beautiful thin gadget

Kept ready for action.



The flash.

A quick neat cut.

Warmth of the fresh red spray.

Drop by drop,

All done.

The ecstacy.




reloading an old post supposedly composed in 2005

To Cynics

To cynics



Why do you question?

Am I so negative!

May be yes.

But I just tend to murder

Only when I lose all chances to die.

Kill you,is the last resort.

There is torture in my ink,

yes,

i’m taking the best positive way.

Else,

Things can be broken,

A house wrecked,

Hearts pierced with uncomely sounds,

Or silence,depression,

Death –one or more;

Nothing happens

B’coz I choose the most positive way.

There are leeches that suck impurity out

And heal;

I do it alone

Keeping dignity –yours and mine too.

I ooz all the bitter blood,

Spit the negative out,

Vomit insanity,

Into this sterile sheet.

I am positive.

Question me,

I hand over this waste.




Reloading an old post

Burning Down

I want to burn down
the house in which we live.

Just one thing to decide-
Whether to enjoy the play of flames
staying outside
or be the beauty of the beast
who dances and makes the magic work
and leave the world to envy
each time the story comes alive.

Just this single confusion
before I burn down
the house where we live.


reloading an old post from aug:2010

PEBBLES IN THE POND

How often do I wonder

What magic's in your smile!

Simple,cheerful drawing

Of two parallel curves..

Sometimes together, a smile

Sometimes apart to a laughter.

Your already pebbled eyes

Shine as you smile.

I see ripples weaving wide

From your lips to your eyes.

What magic is in this

That it ripples into mine!

Like pebbles in a pond,

Like rainbow in the sky.. 

Unto the skies again

I dream to be a kite

with a thread pulled by a child,

with feet free to graze over

vast dry fields or mountain tops,

with eyes full of gaze over skies,

thinking he'd take me way up

to heights of his heart's reach..

The child doesn't show up

I fear, he has grown up.

Then I'd rather be a kite still

Just cut off my thread,let go.