AN ODE TO MY PROCREATOR.
Holding the eraser for assurance.
You extended the pencil to me.
You didn’t dictate the definitions,
But waited patiently for me.
You never erased, instead slashed the mistakes.
“Mistakes showcase your endeavours,
Corrections, your learning ability.”
You would say.
You were my mighty Hero,
Unlike the ones the world described.
Your care didn’t harbour dependency.
As your flaws,
You never camouflaged to hide.
“We are all Humans in the making”.
You would profoundly say.
Your unconditional love.
Your emancipated care,
Helped me become and grow.
My Begetter. My Alma Mater.
To you I owe. To you I bow.
Category: Poem
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AN ODE TO MY PROCREATOR.
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DID YOU ENJOY THE SHOW?
DID YOU ENJOY THE SHOW?
At dawn, the sky was painted with Sun’s soft glow.
Her dreamy eyes watched it with visuals of the future,
Playing before the innocent eyes.
The Sun travelled to the zenith,
Hot, heating and burning bright.
Running and rushing to fulfill her dreams.
With wet temples, feet sore, she lost the pace of time.
The Sun had now descended. It was twilight.
Her creased body noticed the grey sky.
Saddened at this juncture.
Her eyes flooded, longing for the white sky.
Pouring, until the sunlight was nowhere in sight.
Drained. Laid on her back, she heard a voice call.
“So did you enjoy the show?”
Dazed. She retorted, “Show? What show?”
“The Sun’s show! Playing right before your eyes.”
Jolting out of the trance she replied,
“But I was in my show.”
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(SUGGEST A TITLE FOR THE POEM)
The hind head fallen over the back,
The pleading eyes, stared.
The outstretched angular arms,
Called to the wide, hide sky.
Before the towering almighty.
For years, every hour each day.
The lips recited praise-filled hymns,
Begging and trading, filled the prayers.
But the deity stood still and unmoved.
Now the hopes began to shatter.
As the beliefs began to shudder.
Came a sermonic voice from outside.
“Gods listens to all. It’s just a matter of time.”
Hopeful, she resumed counting the rosary beads,
Reciting God’s name time and again.
Unheard yet. Came again an advice.
“May be this isn’t enough? Circle around him on knees,
Not on foot but on the knees!”
The penance, yet ineffective.
The God stood deft and unmoved.
The grey strands now fall over the tired eyes,
The unheard prayers have flipped the pages of time.
Hopeless, broken, slumped in doubt.
Now came a voice from inside.
“Is your path to seeking him, right?”
Awakened!
She yet again, stared at the wide, high sky.
Not to trade, praise or beg.
But to announce,
“She shall seek the God inside.”
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DARKNESS
DARKNESS.
I am dark.
But I don’t defy light.
I am omnipresent.
But I don’t belittle the finite.
I am dreaded.
But generating fear is not my type.
I am mystic.
But I am not disguised.
I am absolute.
And not an outcome of tries.
I am Darkness and not light!
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Crevices Of Hopelessness
Crevices Of Hopelessness..
The moon stayed.
Stayed for long. Really long.
The tiring wait,
Blurred the vision,
Shrunk the heart.
The weakened winks,
Now breathless, lost hope.
Hope to see the light.
Watch the sunrise.
The moon lingers for a bit more,
But finally the sun arrives.
The sunrays knock at the windows of eyes.
But Alas! The eyelids stay shut.
Not responding to the awaited light.
Why? What happened to the hope filled eyes?
Did the long slumber of wait, push the quest,
Into the deep crevices, away from light?
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THE SURGE OF INK.
THE SURGE OF INK.
Drowned. Chocked and Constrained.
The pent-up emotions, slid open the barrage.
Splashing over the sheet,
The Ink let go of the surcharge.
With the swell of love,
And sometimes of hate.
The Ink danced
And sometimes raged.
As if in a dreamy trance,
The Ink wandered like a stream.
And sometimes streamlined,
In an alert phase.
At the bay, a stray Thought barked.
Barring its tide, breaking its flow.
To the rescue, the Heart swelled and yelled.
And the Ink found its might, to resume the flow.
At a meander, it flowed over pebbles of memories.
Gurgling with glee, bubbling with delight.
And sometime lapping the air,
After a loud cry.
Over the white surface,
The Ink ran and wandered unrestrained.
Leaving behind versus and sermons on the overlay.
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Before a mirror
Before a mirror
VANITY – Here you are. Looking like a queen!
MIND – Stunning! And what about the feel like a queen?
EGO – Allow the Romantic prospects to serve you
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The pen is my voice
The pen is my voice.
The wish of my heart.
The noise of my mind.
The whispers of my soul.
The talk of my eyes.
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AAH! THE SIGHT OF ME.
AAH! THE SIGHT OF ME.
There’s a version of me,
That i now see in her.
Varied shades and facets,
That lay invisible to me.
Until, she bore them.
Wore them.
And now stands before me.