lets blame it on the weather

The weather is good today
Makes me wonder a lot
About butterflies, flowers and rainbows
And about you

Thinking what you are doing
Whether your beloved is by your side
Are you holding hands?
Or lying together side by side

I sit on the parapet of my window
With a pen caught between my lips
Thinking of a line or two to write
Definitely not about you.


The sky is cloudy,
The moon is not hidden
It has just forgotten to rise
The stars
Well they are too lazy today

The wind blows my hair
And covers a part of my face
The young boy next door smiles
A silly smile

All seem nice today
Even the funny dog that
Sleeps on the roof
Is it the weather that turns me mad
Or it is just you?

Doesn’t matter
The weather is too good anyway.

colours.

inspired
I wrote of colours,
blue, pink, orange, red and
many more like them
depicting each of them with an adjective
and with a mood
and then I stopped
finding it inadequate...

and from that day still now
I am searching for a particular colour
that could depict you
all I am left with black and white...

alas! I have no adjectives left for them.

Far Apart

as we walked in the rain
as the droplets pierced us
I felt you again and again
as if we made love

the droplets cleaned us
yet we melted into the fathoms
of unknown longing
silence covered us
for we spoke with our eyes

sometimes hand in hand we walked
when nobody saw,
sometimes far apart
to keep away from stranger's eyes

love brought us together
but it is only for love
we walked on the opposite sides
as we reached our destined places


yet it is destiny that has brought
us together
will bind us in our bonds of
words, tears,flesh, blood and emotions
and we meet again and again
to part
for we are for each other
always and never
for we must stay far apart...

Freedom

it's that time of the hour
and i head home
it's going late
and dark
am a little tired
homeward I run
only to find myself lost
there's another road which leads
to you
I turn back
and reached the point I
started from.

I neither belong to my home
nor to you now
it's time
I set myself free...

the old oak room at Dehra

It was an old oak room in Dehra
a room with a fireside
'simmering on a slow burning fire
in our dance within a burning room'
we get burned in our pleasures
as everything around us got burnt.

the wine glasses laid as it was
as we drank from our eyes
were we drunk it's hard to tell
for the love we had
and the lust we displayed
our bodies glowed from
the light of the fireside
as it rained outside
it rained in our hearts too.

time stood there
motionless it was
there was no past, present or future.

and
I stop here too
as the oak room in Dehra doesn't exist
it is but just a dream
a dream that I sometimes live...

US

he came into my life
as morning fresh air
as dew drops on grass green
oh! unlucky me
I could not fly
nor feel
my wings are clipped
my feet chained...

then he sang the song of
'unchained melody of freedom'
I was set free...

the songs of our freedom shall be
sung in our hearts
for we are forever
bound by the ties that bind

shall we name it love

to write a love poem

With shutters half closed

And half awake

I see the dim table lamp

far away slowly fading

and I think of love

and senses loosen up…

Words fly and dance like fireflies

around my head

and jump like grasshoppers in my mind…

Today I thought

I will write a love poem: a happy one

‘Where boy meets the girl

falls in love

and then live happily ever after’

But sadly it’s 3 am

even an insomniac needs some rest

a long yawn

it’s time to head the bed.

The finale:

So you see

I will meet you some other day

Some other time

May be

With a half eaten (dark) chocolate

With molten caramel inside

The flavour: I will leave for you to decide.

some dopey thoughts

Once

I thought I would write a poem

On the luggage bags that laid

On the top of the cupboard

the way typical middle class people keep

I don’t complain

I am just one of them,

Then I thought why not write about

the cupboard itself

then I remembered the other things

in the room

the desk, the chair,

the books (that mostly lay here and there)

and of course my favourite bed.

But poor me

Expressionless

Wordless

Especially the poetic ones

And non rhythmic.

At last I wrote

About nothing

With earphones plugged to my ears

I lay upside down

With the pen

Caught between my lips

In deep intellectual thought

I jotted down some lines

What I thought was poetry

And then laughed aloud

Why?

I am yet to know

As of you

Think them as erratic feelings

of a highly doped mind

silence and the night

It’s one o clock by the clock at night

And quietly I lie on the bed

The bed: a big part of my life

Off course I am a sleepy head

But there is more to it

It gives me company,

Bears witness to my cravings, desire

my pains my happiness.

And now it’s one o clock by the wall clock

And silence prevail

A strange silence

The street dogs don’t even bark

They must have had a long day

Silence

Well silence has a sound of its own

have you ever heard it?

I have heard

And I hear quietly lying

on my beloved bed.

The window doesn’t blow today,

The chime doesn’t swing

No it’s not hot,

But humid,

A tear drop accumulates

And then stays at the corner of the eye

Else it breaks the silence

And

I

I am at eternal peace

Wide awake

“sleeping pills” doesn’t work anymore

for it’s the night I enjoy more

and slowly and slowly

the night will pass

the sun will rise from the east

the crows will leave their nest

and together will the night and I

would take some rest…

Notes from the diary

It’s 4 am in the morning
He has left for the airport
No, I have not gone to
see him off
I hate airports
Weird place I must say
Some meet, some part their ways
A commotion of emotional people.


Now I lay awake on the bed
The street lights peep in
through the window and falls
straight on my face,
the room is filled with a
mixture of sad tones
and the smell of last night’s love making
and there is I
waiting…

the last few days were bad
there was a constant fight between the heart
and the mind
nevertheless the mind won
city life you see
the city changes all
and we just run along with it
and then there is my poor heart
it lies somewhere in the corner of
my half lit room
hidden from all
while my mind prevail and rule
over it’s newly gained monarchy.

Time

‘It is only a month dear’

He said

‘Time will fly away in the flash

Of the eye’

I smiled at him

Thinking

It is only a month

Oh! Yes,

Only a month

Then I thought of the days

Of the hours,

Of the minutes,

And the seconds

And then of love

And of pain.

‘Funny it is only a month

And time will fly in the flash of the eye’

I said aloud

And then kept quite

He went on talking

About things I could do

Read, write poetry,

Watch movies

And so on and so forth…

His words were

Like a buzzing sound

Entering through the ear

Going straight to the mind

Disturbing,

Irritating.

He is in his so called

Practical world

And I

I am an illusionist

Living in my own world

Of love

Lost

In the days, hours, minutes and seconds…

And then there is time,

that flies away in the flash of the eye..

a new life

wondering how it was to write
long verses
filled with love and happiness,
and sometimes with deep pain
and sorrow,
today I have none with me,
the tears that once filled my eyes
when I used to be sad
are somewhere down in the grave,
even after long hours of digging
you won't find a droplet.
the happy chuckle is somewhere lost
deep in the woods.

whether love left me or I left love
I don't know
but believe me I tried
to be by its side all the time.

roads have diverged and
then met at a point,
misleading me all the while,
for every time I took the wrong path.
I am aimless now
just loitering in the unknown roads,
may be to find a new meaning of life,
no,
may be a new life.

It rained,It poured

It rained after a long time
the perched earth relaxed
and smiled
and soaked all the water
that peeped in through the pores,
the soil was wet
and under a shade sat I
on an easy chair
looking at the moon
watching the clouds play
the sweet scent of jasmine
came in from the garden
the old gramophone played well,
notes of Tagore rang on my ears
all was at peace
the rhythm of life was back
aloud I cried
let it rain,
let it pore
let it soak all my soars
let it bring back what I had once lost
let time stop
for at last I did find you
at the corner of my heart
and my search for you was
complete.

We and I or I and We

Before I become we
and we become I
let us stop for a moment
let us feel the void
and then
fill the void.

Do you feel me
or do you feel us
like you always say
sweetheart
it's not I anymore
it's now just us.

So
before we meet
to mate
before
we become I
let us feel the moment
and then fill the void

I smile

once in a while
I drop by,
and I look for you.

sometimes I find you
as a tear drop
waiting to roll down
from my eye
in happiness,
in love,
in pain
and
I smile.


sometimes I find you
free flowing,
rippling,
dancing,
then I know
you are in a happy mood
I wash my feet
as you flow by
and I
smile

sometimes I find you
on the tip of the grass,
that wets my feet
as i walk by
in the early morn
to watch the sunrise
and
I smile.

sometimes I find you
dropping from the sky,
slowly drizzling,
and I walk through you
to feel you
and
I smile.

many seasons have passed
before,
and I have grown,
not the same old child anymore,
but
I do pray
let the innocence stay,
and
I smile always
the way I used to.

blue skies and seven hues

once
i wanted to write
about blue skies
and seven hued rainbows,
but
my pen depicted
a cloudy sky
and smoky fog.

I don't know why
my friend used to tell,
blue or grey
it doesn't matter
as long as you
have a sky overhead.

I don't know why
he said so,
I never asked,
all I wanted was blue skies
and seven hues.

but
now I know
to get the
blue skies and seven hues,
you must have
the grey skies first,
and some rain
all around.

The muse speaks aloud

am in a edgy mood today,
the poet is not by my side,
he found a lover of his own choice,
but
I am in love,
with the poet,
may be,
but he is a snob,
he talks like a commoner
and thinks his poem are
for people like him...

well
i am different,
yet I love the poet,
his smile make my knees weak,
and he bloody knows it,
a kind of passive seduction
it seems,
but he want to stay clean,
'for God's sake I am a commoner he says.'

infidelity
that's a harsh word
yet he is in love with me,
but
shhhhh
he can't speak out loud,
he read his poems aloud though
taking my name in between.

don't ask me who
I am
by this time you must know,
I am his muse
but shhhhh
he can't take my name.
he is a commoner after all.

The poet and his thoughts.

the poet
is in a thoughtful mood today,
well
he is thoughtful always
but a little more today,
he is thinking about his writings,
does he understands what he writes,
or he just scribbles whatever comes in mind,
and then everything takes a form,
and there within comes out a new meaning.

but
that is not what he wanted to write,
sometimes a idea comes from within
and he starts writing,
jargons he seldom use
his poetry is for commoners,
not difficult to understand,
but commoners hardly read him,
they have better things to do.

the critics
well they are never in love with him,
after all he misses the rhyming scheme,
no, rhetoric words,
sometimes not even meledious,
sometimes they even lack a flow,
yet
the poet writes.

he knows
he has few readers,
sometimes nobody at all,
publishers has already turned their nose,
they look for a poet
who speaks well,
not somebody like him.

the poet
has no friends,
for they find him boring
he
is not frustated,
he will write on,
for thats the way he speaks his heart,
he is a common man after all.

today the poet is in a
thoughtful mood
may be he has something to share,
on the table lies
a pen
but there isn't a piece paper anywhere...