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...

the dead poet

the poet is sad again,
the lonely poet
wandering the roads once again,
incase he finds some pebbles
to keep him company,
miles after miles he walks,
talking to the unknowns,
who become his knowns ones,
and his known ones move far away,
farther and farther with each milestone.

the poet doesn't write anymore,
for he has no story to tell,
his stories are lost in the graves of his lost ones,
he doesn't cry for them,
only sometimes
a tear or two fall,
for he can't stop them,
but he wishes he could.

the old poet sometimes wishes for a different life,
a different story to be told,
only death can fulfill that wish,
but he knows death is yet to come,
he is still young,
though old in thoughts,
his wrinkled, crippled thoughts betray his age
and he is already dead
only no one notices.

so he wanders aimlessly
in the Road of Life,
without poetry,
without Rumi, without Ghalib,
the wordsmith's hammer doesn't work anymore,
the chisel is blunt
it no more engraves the rock,
and like a nomad he runs
from this door to that door,
in the hope
incase he finds,
yes, incase he finds
his lost words,
the words he never wrote.

the suffocated poet

In this hot sultry afternoon,
With people shouting at the top of their voices,
As sweat trip down their dusky toned faces,
My poetry is lost.

Once in a while
I try to write,
But in between I just collapse,
The sounds rotate in my mind,
Merging my thoughts and words,
And nothing comes out.

Some say I need a break,
I say I need lots of them,
The heat is rising beyond its level,
And I find it hard to cope.

Now it has started raining,
I look through my office window
And just watch,
The piercing arrows,
How I wish I could feel the needles,
How I wish I could release my pains.

There are so many things I want to talk about,
So many a things to share,
But neither do I find the words
nor do I find the thoughts.
And I look blankly outside.

The world beyond the window
Seems so tempting,
It neither deals in prose nor in poetry,
I wish I could cross the border,
I am a cursed soul
in the custody of a worn out body.

No, I don’t wish for death,
I want to live
All over again,
I want to feel everything that I have not felt,
I want to feel the world beyond my closed windowpane.

As slowly I return to my old rugged seat,
Away from the world of imagery
In between mundane deeds,
I have lost my poetry.

a distorted youth

Like a street dog
I roam
In the nooks and corners
Of my favourite lanes,
Why?
I don’t know
Never found an answer,
Never wanted to.

I have some friends
Sharing the same fate as I,
Yet I am alone,
Aimless;
Jobless
No,
I am not,
Yet I roam like one,
To find something unknown.

I have left the business of love unfinished,
At the juncture
Where two roads meet,
The feelings still remain unexplored,
The passion unfulfilled.
And I am in a sea of unknown pain,
And I walk towards the shore.

The books that I have read
Failed to satisfy my quench,
I long for an unknown world,
In the nooks and corners of my known lanes.

Sometimes
I ask myself,
Am I mad?
Or the world is going nuts,
I fail to find an answer,
But I ask none.

And like a street dog,
I roam,
Unfulfilled,
Unknown by my known world,
Trying to find a meaning of youth,
Now in the nooks and corners of
My old room.

just my criminal mind

A spoonful of sugar,
Two cubes of ice,
A dash of lime,
30 ml of scotch,
A cocktail prepared,

And with a gulp you drank all,
Your favourite drink.

A white livid face,
A pinch of pain,
A single query,
You ask ‘why’

Left unanswered forever.


A motionless body
Lying on the floor,
Sitting beside it,
I smiled the peaceful smile.

But alas! You died a much painless death,

And I died many,
many more a times.

cats! cats! I see cats all around

There was a dream,
A dream that I dreamt
Last night,
Nah
Today morning,
For it was around 8 am
How do I know?
For the alarm rang.

There was a dream,
A dream that I dreamt.

In the dream I saw,
Two cats trying to snuggle through the window
I drew my mother’s attention to the sight,
And cried aloud with a fright,
My mother led them snuggle,
And I yelled.

My mother said there were mice,
Which was nothing but mere vice(s)
Cats are wonderful all she said,
And I whimpered and yelled.

The cats just observed our fights,
Slimy creatures they are I made my mind.

Now they talked among themselves,
And I eavesdropped to their conversation.

The female thought they shouldn’t miss this chance
For mice are good for dinner and lunch.

Plus a cozy place
They would get,
And snick out time for some romance.

The male thought we might ask for something
For the place,
Especially me for he thought I was a nut case,

Seventy bucks at the most he could give.
Nothing else,
Not a dime more or less.


Taken aback by their audacities,
‘Can cats talk?’
I thought out of curiosities.

And at that moment the alarm rang,
My dream was broken at that instant.
I opened my eyes to look around,
Saw two cats sitting on the ground.

Amazed and dazed
I rubbed my eyes,
They just smiled and meowed
And left the house.

And from that moment till now,
Am seeing cats all around.