Sunday, 25 January 2015

worlds apart

Worlds apart

Many a dreamy worlds away
Her echoes of darkness, dance all day 
Trees of unheard colours there lie
That world of her's with a purple sky
Oh standing solitary with a spirit ever free
A lonely maiden was all i could see
Though i lived ever a tenous firefly
But like a desolate moon for an unmatched sea

Wishing dawn

Wishing dawn

How may we tell what all we wished,
When in our trysts we seldom missed,
To put our heartened words across,
The fear of absence from our toss.

A litle sun, in a bundle of light,
Flew around, forth tandemed-night,
Sprawling, spanning, like scattered seeds,
Gleaming a sky, each silently heeds.

Leaning, inclined, wandered and smeared,
Warding the closures forsakingly feared,
Within each moment of present and past,
Sighting towards a view that would last.

As u leave, ur words behind,
Ur tender touch, your smile kind,
U leave me in a world well drawn,
Such that I see u in every dawn

destined

On the verge of destiny

Often in an amble of thought,
Outlines of several footsteps I caught,
Along with a shadow firm and complete,
A story that time could not defeat.


A stature in epics well foretold,
Match to the pictures we clearly hold,
In search of an answer strung unknown,
To questions of life evenly thrown.


On that verge, in the end of our search,
We wander how high, we placed our perch,
Just to attain, a fair clear sight,
Unaware of how time, prepares its fight.


Each word we then draw, we form a peril,
In a tip-toe of wanders, the battle is still,
Against a world that seldom fails,
To guide us through our destined trails.


long love

Long love
From the moment we leaned in for a talk,
To a wander through towards our walk,
The paths were not ours, not ours were the trees,
Yet strung together, for years, through the breeze,
We struck each other to leave our mark
In building a fire, from a spark,
The sands knew no hours, no words knew the seeds
Yet we hung together, for other, just to please
And a little by little, drifting still
Towards our hopes of destined will,
Our Hearts felt no fear, no fear could reach,
As mirrored to the other we were fated each.
So Into a tumble, a scramble of gaze,
Sighting inside our matching maze,
we live in each other, each credible way,
A long love in circles, of night and day.

spells

Spells -

As a picture it clearly fits,
The wands from magic, the spells from wits.
The stories from books that elders told,
a world that bends, where, time folds.

Chorused, a faith still sounds,
On idols of wisdom, and statues on grounds,
The paths well beaten, well travelled and strolled,
By lights through different races and moulds.

So now i pick, what i'm able to hold,
From decades of learning, the fine through bold,
The crafts refined, that man can learn,
And put to test the worth of my yearn.

Yet, such is fate, on our side,
Though little we are gods, under tender hide,
But, still from our stories, we can not tell,
Which words missed luck, which spells did well.


life reactions


Life reactions

Oh how faithful, how elusive,
We form a mesh, in the choice to live,
Smearing our ends, in a constant stir,
To touch and sense, the primordial blur

Oh how brittle, how well defined,
We build a view, curved and lined,
Patterned with space that intervenes,
To wander and align, with curated means.

Oh how clear,  just impressionably loud,
We intone a feeling, from reflections around,
Tying our breaths, with tongues in a prose,
To hear and conform,  what it could enclose.

Oh how alive, how momentarily instilled,
We converge our perception, to a vessel filled,
Searching still, with a constant embrace, 
In a fated tumble, as a sensuous face.

Eventually an expression, groomed in will,
We put together, from pictures that fill,
Strung in a story, with percepted clings,
In efforts to confide, a rustle in the wings.

Oh how common, now gestures renounce,
our greetings spelled, ounce by ounce,
Adding to conversations, trying to please,
A moment of time, while tuning our keys.

Oh such is life, in its reaction,
Each brink we grow, we form a fraction.
Interfacing, in the confines of our skin,
The balance of organs, on a line thin.



storytelling

Storytelling 
when curtains come down, the clock still ticks.
in memories frozen, a wave still picks.
to your acts, to your glories.
your beautiful  presentation of stories

carved impressions

carved impressions

I think the colours of a talk,
Still such that they only,
Fill in sight of a walk,
Wet, earthened, and lonely,

Till, crashing and washing ashore,
A shade is carved unlike before.

Wordless heart

 
 
Wordless heart pries
 
After our little-lead trailed swerve,
On whispers of winds, tracing a nerve,
We talk on for hours building to be heard,
A garland of strewing, word by word.

Until our brittle-borne claimed flight,
Of ceasing a day or meanings by night,
Unmoved,  unshaken,  spotless and clear
Facing the truths we happen to bear.
 
And we sit stilled gazing, knowing that none,
Word goes farther than where we've begun,
Wishful, indulgent, still hoping our tries,
Will bring to form, what heart pries.

 
 

Wednesday, 21 January 2015

winter again


Winter again 

Cold, your spell malign
curls breeze and tells entwine
 tales in the stranded remain
Of Water enchanted and the pine

Staying and moving just little
In a dance, delicate and brittle
Embracing, the lonely fain
snowflakes, with a melting skittle

Trying still, to cure anew
Wounds borne in a lieu
Conferred in a parting abstain
The Inflictions from words few


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