On this Journey..

I hear a voice call out and I

Must turn around or just go by

Oh heart, stop thumping on my chest

For I must pass, I must not rest.



The world now looks like a big ship

I, a traveler on its tip

Though trials on my face gush through

This path I must, I must pursue.



Those roses, filled of mud they were

And thorns have grown soft petals here

I carry them on my bare hands

I carry them across the sands.



Oh Freedom, you were such a farce

Today, your meaning I do parse

Who wants you when submission's sweet?

With love and peace it is replete.



Across the seas this love pulls me

And that is where I wish to be

With that passion my heart does burn

I wish to go and not return.

Image source: http://goo.gl/U7C9b

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.

Two Sides

A Smile.

Beautiful.

Full of love.

Not a care for

The world and its

Rules. Like the soft,

Gentle summer breeze on

The leaves of the dry oak;

Like the morning sun over the

Fresh patches of snow; like a hum

From the lips of a mother, singing a

Lullaby. That is her symbol of prosperity.

Stuck on her eyes, a drop, singing a

Different song. Caged, like a hum:

Dull. Trying to rise over the

Red winter, like a dry oak,

Standing by a breeze on

A chilly day. A soft

Cry, stifled. It's

Never cared for.

Full of pain.

Sad truth.

A Tear.

Just Like Death

A day before you succeed


Or you fail, is just like death.


Not that I have ever died


Nor have I ever the need


But if it were possible


To breathe and die at the same


Time, this would be close indeed.






A day before you succeed


Or you fail, is just like death.


Stuck in my throat, a dry tongue


Like a homeless man, in need


Of shelter, scrambles for air


Disabled, like a little bird


Flutters. Desperate, indeed.






A day before you succeed


Or you fail, is just like death.


Cold hands, colder feet, like ice


Clinging to you with the need


Of a new born, yearning for


Warmth. Hold it, or let it go


A difficult choice, indeed.






A day before you succeed


Or you fail, is just like death.


A wild dream that will not end


The knowledge of what you need


And what you might not receive


Scampering for direction


A furious frenzy, indeed.






A day before you succeed


Or you fail, is just like death.


Like gushing waves in the sea


Reach out to the shore in need


Out of desire, desperate


To feel the gray, rocky banks


Hopeful, hopeless. Pain indeed.






A day before you succeed


Or you fail, is just like death.


Much like an ugly defeat,


Only worse. An aching need


Of achievement and distress


Of misfortune, amplified.


A tribulation, indeed.






A day before you succeed


Or you fail, is just like death.


Forgotten at its outcome;


A day I will ever need-


A test of my endurance.


It sweetens my downfall and


Strengthens my progress. Indeed.

That Is What They Think

Adorned with beauty

Of nature, youth and wealth

She walks through the night

In a manner of stealth.



Glowing cheeks, glowing

Eyes of silver and gold

Like a fugitive

Neither shy, neither bold.



Like tender petals

Her fingers holding on

Close to her bosom

The little one; new born.



Walking, trotting on

A determined face, stern

With fury, perhaps

That she cannot discern.



Beside the river

She stands, thinking aloud,

"Should I, should I not?"

A whisper; not too loud.



If the world forgave

As the Lord does, there would

Be less to forget

Less to fear, less to brood.



In tears, she bends forth

Leaving the sign of sin

On the river bank

Her sleeping, dreaming son.



To wealth, to beauty

She runs, taking shelter

Covering, quickly

The hurt and the swelter.



Thus will be buried

A deed of shame, for shame

To save what exists

The nascent will take blame.



The world will see her

When the sunshine comes on

And noone will know

There was a boy, new born.



A beautiful life

Of which joys she can drink

She looks so happy

But that is what they think.