Gifts

From the ashes of a

burnt dream, from the

ruins of a shattered heart,

It rises like a phoenix.

Born within the embrace

of magic and the tenacity

of earth, it takes root deep,

deep in the very soul.

Playing a lost melody again,

it enters the blood like

the elixir of life, it seeps into

the skin and whispers from within,

“My dear, don’t you know,

this too shall pass?

My dear, don’t you see,

they lie here still wrapped 

in mystery, you haven’t

opened all your gifts yet.”

A Memory

A cool summer evening,

echoes with the song

Of a cuckoo bird.

It fills the soothing breeze,

The scent of mangoes ripe,

Full of their sweet juice,

Ready to tumble on

the ground.

 

I see a little girl

Slurping on a cone of

Icecream: chocochip flavoured

And a similar memory

Stretches within my heart as

If awakened from a deep slumber.

Pangs of bereavement slice into

My soul, oh! I ache for the

Cozy comfort of my home

And the soothing touch

Of my mother’s hand

Tapping my forehead.

 

With the setting sun,

I realize how life is like

A tender quilt, stitched

Together with goodbyes.

 

An Elegy To Love

In the ruin of my dreams,

I wander like a ghost,

Alas it was all ripped off, my

Peace, my love, my faith,

She was the one I wanted to save

Look at the cruel irony

Of life, my world

Was destroyed by her.

Was my heart just a

Cheap toy, meant to be

Played with and then broken?

I craved for her, fought for her,

Longed for her and the moment

Of her sweet consent,

That “yes” was my personal miracle.

Sifting through the sieve of reality,

Those memories burn me,

I curse the moment I

Laid eyes upon her face,

For that very face has become

My worst nightmare as it mocks

My trust, shattering it to

a thousand thousand pieces

And leaving me a torn man

As my heart is slowly twisted

Out of my chest, my world

Crumbles down at my feet

And I stand helpless,

Chained by my grief,

Looking through the blur

Of my tears as my hopes

Go up in the smoke of her betrayal.

Her voice, what used to be the

Music of my life, now

Drifts over and I hear apologies

But her words now tumble

Away like dry leaves in a wind,

I close my eyes and I see

Her, my very life, as she

Slips away into the arms

Of another, her sighs, her passion

Now haunt my mind, tear at

My soul and now I understand

Why they, who keep their hearts

Locked away, do so.

Omens

The taste still lingers,

I drank from the oceans

To get a clue of you.

I search and search but

Alas you seem like

The bright shining star,

High up in the skies,

Searing my soul with

All your heat, dazzling

Me with all your light.

But still I cannot, cannot

Feel your texture against

My skin, beneath my fingers.

I swam to the horizon,

Just so I could be a tiny bit

Closer to you and yet I

Longed to touch you,

You just smiled from

Your bed of clouds,

Basking in the company

Of the fair Moon.

I dream of you,

My heart sings for you

And my soul yearns for you

They tell me this ocean, this

Moon and their game

Are all omens,omens to guide

Us to each other, but they never

Tell me, never, how to decipher

The secret language that these

Omens whisper in, for all my

Love for you, has yet to

Turn me into the oracle

That would converse with

The universe and call out

To you in a lover’s voice.

The Sense Of Duty

A cold fire rages on and on

yet the heart desires what it must.

Time slips away moment by moment,

still I wait for what may not arrive.

 

I take a peek, there are bars that

block out chunks of the sky that

I so desperately crave to touch, to conquer.

They who had embedded deep in my soul

the idea of my duty now sing nay, nay.

 

A war goes on and on, I am

the innocent bystander, the marching

cavalry, the mighty queen and also

the dying soldier. They don’t understand,

my cries fall on deaf ears,

my words wither away,

my tears turn red.

 

They tell me they are wounded,

it lies beyond my comprehension

how I am to blame.

The God of war after all

thrives on blood, demands it.

My very essence is their creation,

they forget what they sung to me

in lullabies at night,

they don’t remember they made me

repeat to myself with each breath,

that my duty, my only duty

is finally to my heart.

 

Cinderella’s Stepsister

Much hype about the new Cinderella movie. It reminded me of an earlier post. Why do we not look for new stories? Why do we try to retell a stale tale again and again in a new package?

Painted In Words

Do you know me? Do you recognise me? Oh, if not then think of Cinderella, then think of her stepsister. Yes I am Cinderella’s stepsister and that is my identity it seems, for you know her and not me. Ironic, isn’t it that you judge me without knowing me or my story, you applaud when the shoe fits my stepsister and you condemn me when I try it on, but you have never even put your foot in my shoes. It is me who is made to try on Cinderella’s shoe, for she is the one they all talk about and fade me into the background as if I am no one, just her stepsister.

She is beauty and she is grace. I am ugly and I am crude. Well, I don’t mind being who I am. I am not ashamed of it, no matter how much you try to…

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