ASH LADEN FLOWER

I know you are there

I can hear
You want to talk
I will listen
It matters to me
Why you don't come out
It matters to me
Why you don't speak loud.

I can hear you
But,

I am no Satan
It is dark
And I will out here be waiting.

 I can hear you cry
This Earth is moist
This Earth is sobbing
The bird wants to fly.

 I know you are still there
Now mopping
The ash laden flower
But ash is in the air that surrounds
That flower is pure.

I am holding my hands high
Can you see me
I am white
I am
To pull you up
To pull you ever high,

 With the flower

You come out

And say.

This land is so foul to stay

Lets fly
Lets fly away.

[ Photo credits: Bilal Khan ]

IT IS STILL A MAN'S WORLD

[ Dedicated to the better half of our society.]
 
Masses of vegetables,
Bills of gas, electricity,
Early morning breakfasts and late night dinners
And there in between
Those hectic rush hours.
She is vigilant as a soldier.

She is the earth herself
Good or bad,
Hatred or love
She imbibes everything.

She carries the faith of her family with her
Secures grand confidence
The great endurance of her.
She is a woman.
The struggle is eternal
And her defense is eternal.
Intense sarcasm
Never ending repudiation
Her endless prevalence.

She is valiant.
Worthy of high stature
But always grounded by the opportunists,
No one for her redemption
But herself.

Afraid of the company of strangers
She looks for a hand to hold
But every hand is dirty
Dirty from the greed,
Dirty from the lust.
A company of villains

She screams inside
Her darkest fear is near
And then she dies.

A star is lost.
A smile is gone.
Soldier reached her martyrdom. 

And in the end
It is still a man’s world.

A TRIBUTE

[ "The Beatles" they were not just a band but they are a momentous part of my life. This is for "The Fab Four". ]

I in the sky
Out there shines
In the darkest hour the of the night
Some thing blue.
There was time
When I rhyme
Roam around
There in the city
In the search of some thing new
And
I found YOU.

AN OLD SWEATER WITH A STAIN

[ Sometimes when we look at some of our old stuff we feel a want to be there once more to see it again. It is about that feel which I felt when I was asked by my mother to clean my room. It is pretty much realistic. And for the record I don't smoke. :D ]

While cleaning my room

I checked out my cupboard 

Got some shirts

And rough pants

A leather belt,

Some torn up papers,

An undone deodorant

A nostalgic pain

Some bittersweet memories.

A napkin with an untold story

Which should not have been this way (sigh)

I went straight in to the lap of time

A book of my nursery rhymes,

A photograph so old in black and white

A poem I didn’t write,

A pack of DVDs ,

With a pile of classics

Chosen

Seen

Stored and broken,

A pair of key rings,

Africa core,

A rebel scarf

Made me think and feel sour.

Hot wheels toy car,

A half smoked cigar

Childhood to manhood

In a blink of an eye.

The broken edge of the door,

Stained handle and a bronze key hole

And again the nostalgic pain.

Somewhere beneath the pile of shrugs

I found,

An old sweater with a stain

A fair stain.

UNLIKE ALWAYS

Your absence is certain

Too much than your presence.

Sidewalks are empty.

Unlike always,

And no one sits on the

Benches in the garden.

But these sheets are filling.

I m filling them.

Marks of the soft blue chelpark ink.

Sometimes black

As the black they depict.

As the harsh they reflect .

I am not writing an astrophe

I am writing love

I am writing about the

Half travelled path

I am writing about

Some summer eves and

Some winter morns

I am writing about the hunger of being together

About the songs, about the talks.

Punctuations of my poems has changed

With more full stops

With more pain.

Your flamboyance is too much for me.

Certainty of your absence is too much for me.

   

A DREAM I DON'T KNOW AND MY CONFUSED SOUL

[ This one is a big one !!!...C'mon it should be, it's a life story.  ] 

It begins with a cry

In a white and green room

So many of me hanging upside down

In the hands of a giant wearing a gown

Down there on the track

Again in the hands

But in a different fit

Smooth and warm

A perfect fit

Some time passed by

And I opened my eyes wide

Everything huge like sky

Tiny me gaze and gaze over again

The time I begin to understand the rituals

Nothing was so huge

Growing downwards under the crust

I realized their heights were virtual

I was idiot of an ass

And never understood the math

Math of being social

Math of being loyal

Math of being good

Math of being loved by

And math of everything

I was tiny again

In an infinite sheet of squares and rectangles

I was an irregular polygon

Hitting the puberty was the godly act

I jumped up inside more and more

And there it was

I was big, no more tiny

I was intelligent, no more an idiot

Still

Math was missing some where

Virtuality still unbanished

To cover them up

There were

Dreams, fantasies, adrenalin rush

I started cherishing the unreal

Living in the mirage

Wanting the unwanted

Suddling the mighty three

Virtuality within me
irregular polygon now dreaming of squares

To join the race and prove the faith

It was me standing confused in the rampage

Holy rampage

GRAND OLD LADY

Lying in front of me on the bed
an old lady
broken,
irritated,
in lots of pain.
A lady who has given up hope,
a lady who has given up will
to stand.
A lady who was the source of inspiration for my mother
who was strong
who took all the pain
and never complained.
In her past
she was swift as a bird
bold as a queen
a fighter
a saint in her thoughts,
as silent as the sea
and likewise powerful.
she got infinite love for all
infinite care.
Now,
it is raining outside
evening breeze
heaven for a
poet who never wrote a verse
for a painter who never drew a line
an artist like her
who made so many lives beautiful.
But she is not enjoying it.
She is thinking, nobody knows what.
The queen is helpless
kingdom is prosperous.
The grand old lady is still
breathing in and breathing out
and silent as the sea.  

I WISH IF THERE WAS ONE MORE ME

[ Libraries are a very good source of inspiration at least for the people like me who can not stand silent. ] 

I wish if there was one more me
in two's company
Me and Me.
A partner to join me at the eateries,
a brother to share jokes,
a man to help me out,
a journey mate to share lunch,
someone to lift me up,
to give me support,
to take me on a ride,
someone who could console,
someone to wear my jean,
two bodies with one soul.
We two in the seven billion
living with each other
adventuring somewhere.
But it's only me
and lonely me.
And
I wish if there was one more me.
  

I DON'T SEE

[ It took me a decade to get use to of it. But it is damn true. ]

In this dark endless den

Be it a lion or a hen

Not on the terms 

Not on the promises

Working between depends

Only 

On who sees What and When !!!!