Grief like Sunset

January 22, 2021January 22, 2021

*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

January 20, 2021January 20, 2021Leave a comment

*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

January 2, 2021January 2, 2021Leave a comment

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.

Roses never given

December 10, 2020Leave a comment

*Image and poem copyright Vibina Narayan*

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.

Supernova

December 8, 2020December 8, 2020Leave a comment

Recently, an image uploaded by NASA Hubble’s Instagram page (picture included), inspired me a lot to write a few verses about Supernova, and the delectable idea of comparing these violently exploding stars to illuminaries who burn and fizzle out due to the incredibility of their astounding ingenuity only to borderline into collapsible madness, spurred my imagination to write a few humble verses on this analogy.

Hope you like it, as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Love and more,

Luna

December 4, 2020Leave a comment

*Poetry by Vibina Narayan @soulofscheherazade. Image by Shweta Kallianpurkar @a_tad_aske*w

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.

December

December 1, 2020Leave a comment

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.

November

November 26, 2020Leave a comment

*Image and poem copyright of Vibina Narayan*

In the passing of the thin day,

In the midst of this whirlwind

where I stand,

An axis held by tutored lungfuls

of cold, hard, breath,

Presides over the leftover will

in my tortuous veins.

(Like an autumn leaf that refuses to fall)

My eyes,

Marbles of fading memories,

are guided to the tremulous stance of a robin,

her chest, an orange crescent

in this bluegray, beaming pride

of a relentless November.

(Like an autumn leaf that refuses to fall).

The moon rises early

Her soft cream of translucency

Diluting the pitch dark of winter-

The silhouettes of the night

A still reminder of

Seasons and friends

that come and go,

and the ones that remain to fill my home.

(Like an autumn leaf that refuses to fall).

And for this,

I shall stay,

Rooted to the changing firmament of time,

My young, forming, learning, oak

The visceral bearer of

Life and her slow disclosures.

The rings and lines upon this trunk of mine,

An adage of all the stories

seen and untold.

(Like an autumn leaf that refuses to fall).

Indefatigable

August 27, 2020August 27, 2020Leave a comment

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.

Paperboat of Dreams

August 25, 2020August 25, 2020Leave a comment

The pen is being wielded by

her misshapen fingers.

A child’s hand- like a supposed

joke, that is pumped by the veins of

A century old heart.

Wisdom grays, that heard a million

Stories, but never knew her own.

In the turbulence of whispers though,

She now sought her belonging.

A feeble, but a strong call,

Like the distant seething of a hurricane,

Opens the gateway, to what

Will always be.

They have had to fell fortresses,

Built of the cement of inherited love.

Over nights and over years,

Over the seven seas of unslept nights.

Her dismantled breath and an autonomous neck, still reaching out,

beyond mediocrity and not being understood-

The radio humming through the ticking pulse of the night.

Allowing the plastic biro and the ink of tomorrow to stain

The callus on a well rounded, cuticle bitten

Finger- to swear and for pleasure.

Setting sail on some once-upon-a-times and

Paperboat of dreams.

For what is poetry to a poet, but

A vacant essay, with

No beginnings and no ends, but

A scattered middle, shaped wholesome with,

Words strewn like confetti and

Cherished like a memory.