Nights that Never Leave

There are mornings that seep

Through my kitchen window

With a cold drizzle,

A yawning sleepyhead.

And there are mornings

That majestically enter

With the dewy anthem of chirping squirrels

And birds as guards of honour.

But there are mornings that come by

In hesitation, 

Refusing to bid the night's watch off,

And they are the most dreary.

For with them the night never leaves,

The sun never comes,

And the grey earth tosses and turns,

Jolts in the pangs of her jarring pain.

Outstretched Arms

The waters meander behind me

While the winds play with my tresses.

I see my thoughts rippling on the waves

Taken away in a pebble's throw

I stand there, arms stretched out 

In vain, trying to catch hold of them.

To my stale room I retire,

Sit at the dingy couch

Sullen,

Head to toe outweighed by the dim light,

Watch the waters meander,

Watch my thoughts ripple away

In that one pebble's throw.

Out stretched arms.

A long lost log of wood

Drift by my feet

Taking my dreams away,

Out stretched arms

Lay still,

Watching them drift in the silence

Of the night's chill.

The moon stretches her arms,

Beaming at the newfound

Collectibles, ready

To showcase

The crimson red and emerald green

Dreams,

Gilded with ancient foils of gold

And wrapped in the glass chest.

Never to gift to a beloved 

Nor to return to who those belonged.

Selfishness is a disease

Incurable 

But deadly,

Giving a thousand stabs

Behind the outstretched arms

And the still heart.

Lily of the Night

As the night bloomed,

She opened her mauve pink eyes

On the wake up call of the setting sun:

One, for a moment,

With the mauve sky,

And lazily lay wrapped

In the shimmering starlight's cold embrace.

Her blinkless eyes,

Drinking up all the dark,

Dark beauty of the infinitude,

While all her diurnal cohorts

Slept peacefully

In the blanketed warmth of their closed petals,

Drifting into sweet recourse.

Her glass pink petals

Charming the glass waters -

And dark green leaves a cushion 

For looming thoughts broken

By the sight of a firefly

Spotted here and there across

The rippling waters - 

Mirroring the night sky's enduring calm

Tenderly like an infant's smile

Dozing in silent sleep.

Way through the Waters

At this sunset shore I sat throwing pebbles

Of fear, doubt and indecision,

I watch them cast the ripples in the water.

But the ice cold waves meet me with a fiery gaze

Of hostility, 

Seconds of stare disarming my defence,

I lost hold and fell,

Drowning in the depths of pensive.

Submerged, I gasp,

Look for something to hold on but hit rock bottom,

Losing all sense of being and belongingness,

Waiting to be wrapped in the coral reefs.

Lo! A way!

Who parted the waters midway? Not me -

I hold not the Staff, nor the golden Tongue,

Then who?

And I hear at the back of my head

The still small voice whispering 

"When you pass through the Waters,

I will be with you!"

And through the abyss dragging my numb self across ashore,

It said:

"Fear not, I am with you,

Dismay not, I am your God!"

Feeble, shaking and

Drenched as I am, I saw

Those pebbles floating afar

And Peace returning to me.

Artist

Artist,
I wish to know
who keeps
the golden traces of
the mirror you broke-
break still,
severally-
as you splitted your
sort-of-frustration:
for they kaleidoscope
the many vermilion faces
you drew
and wiped off,
strangely reflecting
one was me.

Hide and sulk

Sleeping by my mother's side,
A hurricane caught
My kwashiorkor-tended well-fit.
Wrong, it was his robust arms
Shackling my skeletal thoughts,
Powdering them into a misty dust,
Withering them in my blinded eyes,
Turning that night nighter than ever.
A firefly I was, tented beneath the skyroof
In the footpath that was my home.
A spoonful blackhole
of his lascivious desire
Geared, bulleted and fidgeted,
Mixed uglily with my retaliated not-let-go.
1-0,
An eventual win
For his sixpack in the tugowar.
Wringing the last drop of my light,
He left, over the open gate shoving
The leftover candle, all blown out -
All but waxing blisters and
Countless mysteries
Of everything I'd lost
In the hide and sulk.
There in the no-return,
I lay wondering
Why I was wrested from me.

Laid to rest

The fossil of an ancient raindrop, frail and grey,
Enclaved in a tiny pyramid, soiled by time,
Beams an archaic smile, and rests in peace.