Wasted

There's a fire somewhere, and they rush-

A trail of humans and of smoke

And over the ardor I gush

Under the dismal, dreary cloak.



All the screams of panic and fear

Sing the song of familiar grief

And I allay them, drawing near

Saving prizes from the fierce thief.

Gently, slowly, I dismiss the heat

I heal a burn, I clear the scene

And flowing down I wash some feet

Sweeping and scrubbing gray soil clean.



I come to rest where nothing more

Can brighten this shattering sight

And dirty though, my body sore

Ceasing here brings some respite.



They turn away, in soft murmur

Recalling what they'd just tasted

And who cares in this cold summer

That I was the one just wasted?

Image source: http://goo.gl/uzr37

The Two-Edged Sword

I knew there were two sides to you,

But can love reason, can love see?

"That other side is not for you-

For you, my sweetest side will be".



I saw that smooth, velvety glow

I checked the shine, so bright, so true

I flaunted you to a friend (a foe)

Now looking back, I think she knew.



I got so used to you being near

The hazy aura around you

Would never let me see the clear

Sharp edges on this dagger new.



And love you feigned, with evil thoughts

You crept into my memories

The flame that killed the swarming moths

Began to know no boundaries.



My love was like the river blue

That longed to meet the sprightly sea

And out of love it happily threw

Away its worthy identity.



This other side of you, my dear

Did caress me before the blow

And now, I tremble out of fear

For trickling down, my blood does flow.



I cannot rise from this low fall

I prostrate, and pray to my Lord

I whisper in pain, I recall:

I trusted a two-edged sword.



(Inspired by a scene from a movie. The girl falls in love with a criminal who ultimately kills her)

Image source: http://goo.gl/EYLUq

Remembering an Indian Childhood

Of sandal, spices and of mud

I smell my land-far, far away

Where children swung on banyan roots

And marbles were the game to play.



I dream of colors and flowers

And of the muddy paths I walked

And how I waited for the rains

And how we giggled while we talked.



I think of grassy orchards where

We played the game of climbing trees

And scrambling down with guavas ripe

I held my face against the breeze.



Come summer, what delight it was

To pickle mangoes, green and raw

Chasing the glow worms in the dark

And every shadow that we saw.



Sometimes sitting by the green pond

We took up fishing for some fun

And having caught a fish or two

I tried to dry them in the sun.



And now I am so far away

From childhood and this lovely land

There are no games, no colors bright

They were but castles on the sand.



These footprints on my memories

Cannot be washed away by time

No matter where I live or go

Like little bells they tinkle, chime.



At times these faded memories

Come out, alive, in my deep dreams-

The comfort of my adult life

Might not be as good as it seems.