Grief like Sunset

Words- Vibina Narayan. Picture- Rajkumar.J.S

I just have these three words to aid me- Grief like Sunset. Let me see where it leads me.

Like this path I stumbled up on and chose to explore throwing caution to the wind.

Like every other story of mine.

Avoiding the synchronicity that comes with the monotone of life.

Holding my head up high to salute the sun in his eye

When really, I am as short as the stump of a bush people piss on,

Cut down a while back.

I jump across the puddles and with slight vexation avoid the ‘Danger-Flood!’ signs

Because it is oceans I have to swim in my life and valleys I have to leap over

And my tiny misshapen legs ought to have the might that they show.

If I have to live to have another bleak chance at a most beautiful day

That may elude and escape through all the misery and mockery present otherwise,

In this little harangue called my life.

Where rejections and declines may rule the pages of my book

But the pen to end my griefs as beautiful as the sunset

Is still being wielded by my proud little hands.

The End.

January

Poem and picture copyright ©️ Vibina Narayan

The silver of dawn’s sword
has slit through the
thick, black shroud of
the armourless knight’s
fog and facade.

The orange flames of
a new sunrise has
set aflame to the
past love of all
of yesterday’s and
the nights before them.

Birds soaring up high
sing melodies of a
new day and a promised
better tomorrow,

while the world is
being held up high
against the backdrop of
mourning silhouettes of
trees and their barren fangs
in the dead of
January.

Love lies in

Picture and Poem ©️ Vibina Narayan

Love lies in..

every gossamered
corner of
objects
and memories,
once owned.
Shadows
of yesterday
you thought
you overlooked.
Veins touched
by the soft glow
of an evening
longing for
impossibilities.
Wine half drunk
brooding into
the dissection
of maybes’.
Eyes that never
met to spill
volumes of
if onlys’.
Sighs dissipated
as cold smoke
into the wind
and fire
of tomorrow.

ANODYNE

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I let gratitude crumble into

My hard bed today.

Just my breathe is enough, thank you!

The heat outside has churned the

molecules of time I have lived yet

Into a pile of obscurity.

A pale column of steam, I am.

The birds outside are chattering housework and tomorrow,

The sun burns a hole in my escape plan

And dreams. Ones forever without an origin,

destination or route.

Wayward and wanton like a rogue elephant.

Just when we thought our legs and words

Have found their respite,

Here’s arriving a thousand restless tiny clouds,

And to all the climes living in our house upstairs,

that can claim nothing anymore, but a few well spent seconds, while here at home.

 

H is for Hamlet

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This gray day has bought with it

Some wizened thoughts

Of a past not long back

When the feet knew of stinging bites

And the heart found love in

Nothing old or known and

Thorns and stones

(and stupid idealism).

 

The hunger has died, but the burn remains.

The urge to purge the stillborn memories

Of many of our dreams we built callously,

(brick by brick)

Whetted by the stone of curiosity,

Licked by the blade of loneliness,

they have planted beautiful blooms

for the Gods in their slave’s garden.

To be enjoyed while taking a pinch of salt

With a drink to our sealed fate.

 

Grief comes to those who have the time to cry.

The rest of us keep on running until

we run dry.

And sometimes we remember to breathe,

As there is nothing any longer to feel.

While the gush of air in dissolves the body

Into the universe of our head rush,

And the clouds above roll out the drums and the show,

but no rains or tears from within,

I often question the distant rainbow,

I remember seeing while I walked a prayer for you, only to get

An endless reflection of vacuous colours,

in the mirrored room of illusions I built for myself. All over again.

Time

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It is time to say goodbye to another

Time we welcomed with warmth and hope.

By remembering that glorious sunrise.

 

Time that stands testament to games of dice

Between truth and lies.

 

Time that kills us slowly like wine

That ages as patiently as us,

Nestled in her shrine.

 

Time,

You sodden column of death and dust

You hurt us with the old

As much as heal with the hope of something new.

 

Time,

She is that old lover

Who forgives but does not forget.

She chose to leave you

But remembers when you clawed her

Heart out with a mere whisper of another era.

 

All us babies will sing of our unpigmented loyalty to time

Tonight.

“Tomorrow will be better and happier”.

An cuss to her ears.

 

Well who am I not to abide,

I am as much a sinner as the other one beside.

So remember it like a gentle sad sigh.

Tomorrow is your friend

If you know she can be your foe

In fleeting beats hereby.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

Distance

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In abject silence, what to think of.

 

The quietness of a ticking clock?

The loneliness of a bird

Perched on an empty branch?

The ember in a dying restless soul

That wants to dance…

The ageing sun

That will someday sink

Into the sky

Blueink to black.

 

But today we shall smile

And sleep

As long as our earth goes round

And our time goes right.

GREEN BEACON

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This bunch of green, to me is the most idealistic of living beings. The epitome of perfection. The symbol of what beauty should be made to be.

It chose to befriend a pile of gray, cracking, cold rocks,to live in symbiosis and harmony, to provide its own minimalistic yet profound happiness to the beholder’s eyes.

Isn’t that how humans are supposed to be? Realise the potential of a cracking soul, adopt it, nurture it and show the rest of the world what can come of the most downtrodden of men. Or women. Or a child. And when we tune on that nerve of compassion in us, we bring into being an ideal world. Quite a Utopic concept, but only if we thought about what is happening around us with a wider “opened eyes”, will we understand, that it is not easy for anyone. The king amongst us, would be an insomniac worrying about his fading charm, the swan amongst us could be an abandoned daughter and the child with the bouncy hair and cherub cheeks would probably be craving for its mother’s warmth.

My own soul feels gray and cracked. And as much as I dont want to look back, I realise that only if I embrace my past with kindness will I be able to smile tomorrow. And I am grateful for my family and friends for all the support showered upon me, but is everybody else as lucky? As often as depression threatens to kick in, I remind myself that it is always not about me and that I do have a warm hearth and bed to sleep on.

The people we meet are as cold as the weather outside in November. Sometimes colder. We all take refuge in knowing someone more through their social networking profiles, than looking into their eyes and read what their soul is screaming out. It requires courage and we have fooled ourselves into believing that being a coward is a display of bravery. Our laughs are as fake as our will not to cry.

The highest of living beings have forgotten the rules of living, and here is a bunch of plants that are usually weeded out, showing me, what it means like to live and hold life in any given spot of earth. If this is not a symbol of hope for a ruining soul, then what is?