Monosyllable

The hip flask still lies

on the table,

the table-where heaps of paper lies

amidst unknown poetry

and if you run your fingers

on the rims of the decorative corners

you will feel dirt

and may be a part of the pain

of those unknown poetry.

He was never a super star,

never aspired to be one,

he was a commoner

like you and me

but

different,

how?

don't ask me that.

the rusted locket that resembles

a skull,

is a heirloom now

that once belonged to him

and now to me

lies there in a box

of unhindered treasure.

The rust,the dirt

the unknown poetry

are blank spaces that

he lived once,

but

all is now a black sheet.

I tried to scribble something

but amidst the

unknown poetry

I am just an unknown monosyllable...

when i lost poetry

Dreams as they come

as they fly

as they change

sometimes make me awe stuck.

I am who I am

wheatish,

toned,

moisturised...

you

dark,

memorable,

bitterly sweet,

dreamy feverishly dreamy.

yesterday when I lost poetry

I was sad

and then today I found

you again

poetry, you can be fickle minded.

today you are mine

tomorrow you move on

and you leave a mark

somewhere

and i am still searching....

it's just a phase.

Mirror mirror

Do I look different today?

Are there any fine lines?

Are there any crow’s feet?

The mirror just smiled today

Strange!

This never happens

The mirror always has an answer.

Today is a special day

Twenty-nine years eleven months

and twenty nine days

that’s my age.

Hours, minutes and seconds

Doesn’t count

The day is normal

Yet so different

Turning thirty is okay

I thought

Last week my friend

Said, “life begins at thirty”

Yeah

Yeah

I know

And the spending takes a different turn too

Confused and half minded today

I celebrate that last day

But the world doesn’t end

I am the same me

And you are the same you

Won’t you be?

Then there is

Olay

Ponds

And so many other products…

What do you say?

Grays

Oh common

I tend to keep them.

Magnolia, me and the broken stream.

The magnolia stopped talking to me

can you believe it

he has stopped talking

reasons...well not known

with drooped head

he only sighs

a sunken heart and his branches

fall on the broken stream.

There's a rumour

that he is in love

the broken stream sings

sad romantic songs for him

Oh! what a love

what about me

nothing much

I only watch

these days I am much of observer

it's better not to comment

for first I have lost my nose ring

and now i have lost myself

does the magnolia care

nope

but he is sad for I am lost in the woods

and butterflies circle around me

and he sighs...

and the broken stream sings

some sad love songs

they are in love

that's the last thing

that I have heard.

Forgiven

As you look for me

in the unkempt bed,

I laugh, for you will never find me,

I am dead,

what lies there is a living corpse

(a harsh word indeed)

but aren't you always

harsh to me,

your lust unfolds

to find my desires

and I am satisfied

with a never satiated inner being.

love got lost in lust

lust got lost in love

where I stand

I know not

sometimes somethings

should be left unknown

for now and always...

and you are forgiven

Blow me up

a feeling is there

and there are no words to display

and I suffocate among innumerable words

let me breathe for a while

after that am all yours

entangle me and kill me

by your sheer whispering words

of love.

To Nayantara

I wrote in a pensive mood

of bees, flowers and the

insane me.

I wrote about rainbows

and the misty mountains

and the promises he made during

the monsoon rains.

I wrote about floods

and the soaked heart

and the overflowing witty river.

I wrote about lovers and

their lovelorn hearts,

about you, them

and people lost in translation.

And then I got lost in

the jungle

of bitter phrases

Nayantara, come help me find a better way..