Hypnagogia

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Clouds are drifting away

Like a dream.

The frame in this movie

Guilded by golden

green leaves.

Sunshine percolates through

Our veins.

The day’s honey seeps

Into the gold of

Your iris, as I watch (you).

We watch the blue sky

And hear it telling us

A story (of ours).

 

We are now somewhere

Hanging in between scenes

Of a timeless motion between

The thresholds of a

Slow and sweet slumber. And summer.

To piano keys and

seconds of cogwheels.

The evening has yet again

greeted us with

A fairweather smile.

Abiding into night,

abiding into something

We are going to lose.

Like this date.

 

So long as we dance again

In the music of

Each another’s

Wholesome silence,

Our brief interludes

In the twilight and

Waking hours of the other’s

Will and desire,

Time and space,

Will run the

Rest of our show here.

In the garden built

On the loose soil of

Our love.

Kanmani (Creation)

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She held her palms open on a blue,

blue day, while the sky poured open

in honour of her mind.

A wistful grey cloud lay out beyond.

The cracking whip of a thunder and

cold whispers, tore into the

Nodes of her guileless heart.

She sought for answers amidst

What she grew to never be her own.

The damp air reaffirmed what she

never thought would have.

And there lay, like a curveball, even before

It’s life began, a hatched young lifeless bird,

The membrane of its creation, holding

every untold story of it, in her skin.

Pale, opaque beak that almost formed to sing and shut eyes that almost opened to forage,

Thin filaments of wings, that would

One day be strong to fly away, far away,

And beat the strongest of winds, up to ascension.

Though now, here it lay, in her hands, pointless, waiting to be salvaged into the earth,

That has brought all of us here.

She threw a piece of her heart, and trowelled

a lump of mud heavier than her breathe, and

Placed this lithe creation, which was here,

If only for a drop in the expanse of time,

A few inches deeper into the circle of life.

And as her praying hands buried the esse,

As deftly as she does with her dreams,

The ritual of love gave away, the embers,

The tears wrung from tired eyes, called

Another mother, who perched on the

highest branch and cooed away all the hope

She held in herself, once upon a time,

and sang a solemn requiem,

for her soul below.

Here

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Sunshine streams through the heavy clouds above

Like a call of conscience from heaven.

Life outside moves with a horizontal vector

While I’m sat here, static and in inertia of limbo.

The lilacs I always looked up to for respite

Have grown pale into the spite of existence grey.

Time moves inch by inch, every swipe of the needle

But a smudge on our longevity and dent in our breath.

I have not spent much here, yet I feel like

I have been home forever, 

The shadow of a stranger in the glass,

Some long lost friend.

I fix my gaze upon nothing yet I’m lost

Even the field of dandelions held like 

Beads of crystal in the softness of dusk tried to call me out.

Maybe that is what it is. To be here and now.

When you are really no where any how.

Goodnight and Good Luck

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veins over tendons course

like a meandering river,

topography of lands and jungles

thicket, sinewing through muscles and bones,

in the lonely hands of a winner.

the thick gossamer of a deserted winter,

lush tones of yesterdays summer

allured in the wine crushed by another’s feet

percolating sin into another’s words

clouds like fresh cream, only in yesterday’s dream.

bright red stars and bells chime now

to bring in another chariot of time.

 

Decades more to sleep.

Single Magpie

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I have had a very rough last few weeks. Just started off with a new job at a completely new place with lots to travelling to and fro from work and home. And I wouldn’t exactly be going ga-ga over my personal life, at the moment. My brains were all over the place and I was hurting people who genuinely loved me the most. I remember being a complete wreck last Sunday and reached the zenith of moments when I lost all my cool. In a way, it was a process of catharsis but it led to a lot of hurt and anguish that, unfortunately, I just couldn’t control, despite regular meditations.

I remember waking up the next morning, to a clear blue Monday sky. I got out of the bed, got my journal and pen, and penned down every single issue that has been bothering me ever since they started. And I could automatically feel the heavy iceberg in me slowly thawing away into a glacier of forgiveness. At the end of writing my journal, I took a resolve. That I will not my bruise my poor heart anymore. That I will treat my heart, my beating crystal of a beautiful heart with much more love and kindness and dignity, that she actually deserves. And from there on began my ability to be a lot more kinder to myself. And in the process, unto others.

I went out for a walk in the cold morning, the brilliant autumn sunshine wavering through the golden leaves, shimmering the green of the grass to make it appear gold- well technically, there was gold everywhere!

Autumn brings out every shade of gold, nature withheld in herself under the many guises of other colours of summer. Every colour of autumn, be it the bright yellow, the tarnished green, the burnt orange, the indifferent brown, the bright burgundy or even the sallow tawny of dried leaves, is a beautiful complement to the colour gold. It is as if, time wants to display her demise into the depth of another year, with a resplendent show.

My face was freezing and my hands nearly lost their sensations but I had never experienced so much happiness and release in a long while like then. I wrote a poem in honour of my day and made peace with myself. My life and its gains and losses- small and large.

I hope you like Single Magpie as much as I did writing it 🙂

 

 

I walked through miles of cold sunshine

Today.

The indignation of hitherto, waiting at its

Bay.

The sun had not smiled yet at the frost in its 

Thick white spread.

Yet the young green leaves shallow-ly bathed in the virgin waters of

The day.

Splinters of ray poked the peripheries of what I tried to see but couldn’t

Say.

Memories of bereft blood and memoirs of unknown laughters held me in my path in a 

daze.

Yonder arose a red mist held up in the sky sewn together with threads of autumn berries

A manic splay.

A magpie, a single magpie, as ominous as me

Soared up with its proud breast, perched upon the highest bough of a discarded tree, it’s foliage 

frayed.

All of us in equal share, in this frame, of the ruthlessness of hope and tomorrows.

She charmed me, this little white breast messiah, with nothing, absolutely nothing.

Just by being there. 

Loner bird, sat like a loner human

A queen in her stillness, a thinker of all sorts.

While I breathed in and earned my thought

Without a dime or two to spend.

Today

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Today is a gift

That yesterday will

Never know of,

And tomorrow will always remember.

 

So choose to live it

With wisdom.

Because what is dead is gone already,

Taking with it even the embers of all

That we knew once to be our only own.

And what will come surely will bring with,

It offspring of joys and sorrow

We make love with

Today…

 

 

I have attempted to do something new today.

I was gifted this calligraphy set by my beloved from the gift shop at William

Wordsworth’s residence last year.

And of course, I needed to put it to some good use.

And hence this idea was born, although I must admit that my rookie struggle is quite

evident in the picture itself.

I shall try this more, if time and my mindset are kind enough to permit me to do so.

Hope you enjoy this piece, as much as I did creating it.

Merci beaucoup!

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Home

A Long Road Ahead

It is a long way to home.

Home, where sometimes I know

no Home.

Well, what is a home

When the heart is

Always a nomad.

Somedays here, somedays there,

Somedays found and

Somedays lost.

The sun shined above the fields of heather for me

Today.

Maybe an invite

Wrapped in purple to lure

and call it a

Home?

*

My mind runs faster

Than my deformed feet.

*

My heart is still sunk

In the memories of

Yesterday’s winter.

The cold and dark

My motel for a long time.

They let go of me

Even the frost needs rent,

And I am penniless

With no dimes to rub or spend.

I am back with my old friend

The shadows from the alleys.

Together we lurk

Like the ghosts of a long lost legend,

Listening to the jingles and looking at the twinkles

Oggling at drunk wanton cherub faces of

Joyous December,

And remembering the warmth in the innards

Of our soul

That could vein in us

With hot boiled spirits.

*

I ran the entire length of spring,

Blooming buds of cherries and daffs and all.

Baby greens dotting the widowed trees,

A new promise laid in

The womb of time.

Branches singing together

With the mirth of mynahs.

 

Let this be where I breathe

In and out now.

This cloud and sun speckled ground

Where I dance the songs

Of lost dreams.

Lost,

With the youth of time.

 

But I still know

I am miles away from home.

And I still know,

I will return back to that motel

I once belonged.

 

 

 

 

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.