May blossoms everywhere
pink and bruised.
a full, bulbous heart.
torn,
trampled pulp of
fleshy petals on the sidewalk
bleeding into
the thick veins
of summer’s gleaming cobalt.
watering the day
with the
timbre of another lie.
night buzz and
stagnant warmth, hung
a secret laden
with humid pain
and his laugh.
vacant sorrow that
laid a stone with
belief.
May’s tale is
May’s shame.
Oh sweet heart
who’s love
carries the curse of
wilted roses.
Too beautiful to be thrown.
Too spent, to be kept.
Too joyous to ignore.
Too heartbroken to be owned.
I prayed.
A little block of
the burdened sky
dropped down.
And the sun blushed,
In the West End of
my bizarre idea of
Paradise.
Letting be, and
a trickle of
Letting go.
All for me, and
All for mine.
I chased
another bubble of hope,
and threw
another reckless of a wish,
to the brooding
handover of twilight.
Fancying always the
Canny, crescent smile
of an obscured shadow
of the two faced
lunar,
(A full blue moon only to usurp my heart)
Upon the transitioning palette of dreams
of tonight.
And it brought me
to you (once again),
And a song humming in me
all week long.
While the winter’s fire
and the abandoned echo
of a child’s laugh
down the long road home,
crooned away the passing
of this evening,
Walking all the miles in
thoughts between
the hearts of
You and I.
Just re-visiting an old favourite poem of mine simply titled, ‘December’. Hope you like 🙂
Little bird.
Are you lost amongst
the thorny brambles
knitting up the clear freezing sky.
Are you hungry?
For the grains, the kind, placid strangers of summer
Once threw your way.
Are you searching for the voice
that you once used for
singing the forlorn ballads of
autumn love that
died along with their leaves.
You know, I am here
Waiting with a basin full
of love and salt, shed
this bygone year.
Soaking in them the
seeds of tomorrow for
a much brighter morning,
a much silent noon,
to plant in the soil
of my little strength.
Don’t leave me a trinket.
It is nothing but another memory of you.
Another memory of you
Owing me something.
You may have heard of this,
But my love knows no debts,
or simple words of gratitude.
Just pay me a visit,
A flutter of your beautiful wings,
And those colourful plumes
to frenzy my ill heart.
For to see your beating bosom,
Throbbing with a million unsung songs to be proud of,
And your eyes meeting a million friends
amongst yours or otherwise,
Bring a thousand rhythms of joy,
to my winter soul and
December thoughts.
Elusive sunshine, playmate of the cassock clouds
Let me soak you in, until you allow.
The birds cackle- happy silhouettes of freedom
In a happier blue sky,
A song of chores and forage, amongst the thicket of
Coloured woods of a depleting August summer.
The gentle breeze, that was yesterday a storm to reckon,
Makes the trees sway and dance to soothe our listless souls
That lay basking in the afternoon drizzle, believing
they will escape what they cannot.
Home is much cherished with pride until
Love is replaced with the truth of what it is not.
And I breathe to myself, a silent whisper-
Heaven and winds churned by the same skies know,
These trees can bend to break and destroy, but do not.
As much as they know me, indefatigable
Beneath the placid armour of livelihood I don,
To make everything simple and worthwhile.
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.
Forget me never
Forget me not.
I am the music in your heart.
I am the soul of your art.
Forget me never
Forget me not.
I am the faint whisper in the sweetest of your dream.
I am the wisp o’ air caressing your face, in the deepest of your sleep.
Forget me never
Forget me not.
I am the remnant of your love for tomorrow.
I am the remnant of all your bygone joys and sorrow.
Hold me tender, hold me kind
My bones are as fragile as your promises.
Hold me tender, hold me kind
My skin is as brittle as your valour.
Hold me tender, hold me kind
My breath is as feeble as your presence in us.
Hold me tender, hold me kind
My heart’s flower is as delicate as your fiery words of love.
What is ignorance
But another face of arrogance,
Wisely chosen to believe in
Bliss.
By her.
Cantankerous cackles of a misfit
Over air borne signals,
To the only blood minimally worthy
Of trustworthy.
Of pompous cries of valour in the battlefield, she spoke,
If the arrow of extra meat ever found her.
Her tired jowl and
Always sad scowl sighed,
She could endure
The poison her lover drank
And walk the darkness through blindness with
No sticks and pities required.
Will she be forgiven by the deities
Of her tribe?
Will she be laughed at by the children
Of tomorrow
With tales of jibe?
Forsaken by waves of mirthless merriment
Across the room,
She ruminates of all the galaxies to feast on
Had she loved a little more.
Will she have peace
In her silent thoughts
Of absolutely silent nothings.
Haunted by a heartburn of undigested concoctions
Of loss,remorse and musings now
So morose.
For life is a cycle of moments,
More so gray when living through them
But evermore greener when looking at them,
Had she held a palette of colours and a paintbrush of wit,
To imbue yellow into the stones of blue
And stroke a right red
As the mightiest of hues.
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)
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