Tulips

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The sun shined a brilliant blaze through my

Glass doors today,

Shifting this mind numbing daze built in the column of my living,

With aeons of flying shed dust

That refuse to sediment in the murky waters of time.

 

As if God stood as a guest in guise outside our humble hearth.

Tears of brilliance and reverence in my eyes.

Maybe there is some one I could love

Far and close, near and away.

 

It is winter with no blooms to cheer you

In my withering gardens,Sweetheart.

They are as gray and sullen

As this season after feasts and bygone goodbyes.

As I gave the last of my mirths to

Strangers of blood and not.

But there are songs of robins and sparrows and whatever of them,

Still care to sweeten my

Ember of a soul.

Singing in gratitude of nature and time

And better days to come by

Because ’tis a beautiful one.

Today.

 

Last night I withered through the storms with

A wayward bough hitting the windows and door,

Like a petrified orphan.

And I thought of those obstinate kisses

I once wished for as much as the

Embrace that would not let go off my

Ill, rebel of a being.

Maybe, before I move to a better loved home?

 

For now, I have, however, some rainbow tulips

In a vase waiting for a Lover’s gaze

To unfurl every petal and drench his

Thirst for youth, colour and all that can be used up and ruminated.

Like an abuse you spew out of your mouth in terrible heat

Of your heart.

 

Come if you may, to sit by the fire.

Tell me some stories of yours, ours, what ifs and

Those that can never be heard.

Hold my hand, as fragile as the skin above my veins.

Dont let it go off,

Not even in an absent thought.

Because I can

With all that I have.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reflections

reflections

Where did my dear

I let go off you?

When did I leave

That rope

I had tied your heart to

My able, small hands?

In between the lines of our lives

To the lines that now lie

Beneath our eyes,

When did I lose you

While seeking lost treasures

In the kingdom beneath

The sea that held legends and gold

And ships and shells

As false as their

Tales of mermaids.

 

Will a note of love be good enough

Or a Sufi’s* blessing?

Bottled with the pearl of

My yearning,

Pushed across the sea

By the abr** sent by the

Gods above who have always

Loved me.

Will the pining heart of

A shy poet do?

Will the strength of a

Monk in reverence,

To let us be

Do?

There must be a map somewhere,

Hidden amidst rocks and thorns

In a cave swallowed by the

Shadows of phantoms of

Another world,

That will take us to

Jannat***

Far beyond our

Conscience,

Our grasp.

 

I will get on my saddle now,

I will ride my white beauty

Through the moonlit fields now,

Like a raging dacoit.

Silence torn by

Screams that will never be

Let out.

Before anybody else up above

Throws an irate sword of thunder

To plunge this night of

Our lives.

 

*mystic (Urdu)

**clouds (Urdu)

*** paradise (Urdu)

 

 

 

 

 

Seine

 

 

I stood by the banks of Seine,

Watching a million faces talking in

Smiles and lines of pain

Dwelling in hope,

 And losses lost in

Dreams.

 

I watch lovers kiss,

And lovers cry,

And lovers giving 

Life a try.

 

The breeze envelops me 

Like a strong man’s embrace,

And he whispers into

My nonchalant ears,

“Happiness tonight is measured 

Not in gold, nor in silver

Or signs or silk slivers.

She lies waiting,

In letters written,

With years and years of yearning

In the middle of time,

Hiding in the crevices of

Crackled spines, 

Mopping up their breath into

The fibres of dried pulp,

Like a lovers’ lips

Sealed in her nether heavens.

And broken dances ,

Strumming from the strings 

Of a vagabond ukulele.

Once a kid’s, once a nomad’s

Once a collector’s,

But forever someone’s.”

 

By the banks of Seine,

My friends and amors 

Dance and caress,

And drink the moist sweat

Of an evening they will remember 

The rest of their lives by.

 

December

Little bird.

Are you lost amongst the thorny brambles

That are knitting up the winter sky.

Are you hungry

For the grains, the kind, placid strangers of summer

Threw your way.

Are you looking for the  voice 

That was once used for singing

The tragic ballads of autumn love

That died along with them

Leaves.

You know,

I am here

Waiting with a basin 

Full of love and tears of a bygone 

Year.

Soaking the seeds of tomorrow,

A much brighter morning, 

A much calmer noon,

In the soil of my little strength.

Don’t leave me a trinket.

It is nothing but 

Another memory of you 

Owing me something.

You must have heard this 

But my love knows no 

Gratitude,

Or simple words.

Only pay me a visit,

Or pay me a flutter

Of your beautiful wings,

And those colourful plumes.

For to see

Your beating bosom,

Throbbing with a million 

Dreams and,

And your eyes 

Meeting a million

Destinies,

Beats a thousand rhythm of 

Lives,

In my heart and

December thoughts. 

Bygones

Screenshot_2016-07-22-20-23-58-1-1

 

 

What should I write

About it

when time has forgotten

to remember us

Staring across a

million light years

never knowing when

we would breathe in the morning

Which would finally arrive.

Was it a dream

Was I living elsewhere

When you coloured my gray sky

With an ink so dark

That even the sun smiled

Upon the rains here

In my fields of

Late blooms.