About the Blog

Whatever is written in this blog
is an outcome of fantasy put to
words, it is nothing but lies
but then again I just lied.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Melancholy


Birds of a feather
I have none like mine,
I perch alone in destitute
The sad abandoned tree,
In whose branch I sit
And sing myself a tune.
Time walks ahead
I drag myself to catch,
My heart lags a beat
Beneath the broken vows,
And there I sit and sing
A sad melancholy song.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Traces of Hope



To search for water in the Sahara dry
The sun steals your sweat
Your body reduced to the sands
A tail of sting beneath your trial
Your mind fails you
Your eyes hail a mirage
You rise to fall, again
And yet again.

Your senses withered to dust
Your moist transpired to air
You crave for a drop
Everytime you lose a drop
You shiver for the moon
And pant for the sun
You stumble a step
And fall to the dunes.

Moment when all seems lost
The winds usher a chant
“Rise, my little one,
Your land is not far”
And so you struggle a step
With the last of your strength
And beyond the dunes
Lie the traces of hope.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Why



A young man dies on a morning’s cold
His wife weeping into her hankerchief’s fold
Her hands upon her belly to which she holds
A child unborn, now deprived a father we are told.

A little girl new with a Sunday’s frock
Couldn’t find her white matching sock
The church bell rang till the clock tick-tocks
Not at church, she search for the sock that’s lost.

A woman late in her thirty years
No food on the table, just eyes full of tears
For her children – one, three and five – she fears
For her husband’s return, she knew it aint near.

An old man brushing his teeth over the basin
Looks into the mirror, into the eyes that’s sinking
Reflects over his life and regrets what he had sinned
Took some pills out of the old labelled tin.

What is it with life anyway?

Why do we cry for the unborn child?
Why do we search for the unseen sock?
Why do we wait for someone that’s gone?
Why do we live a life that’s dead?

What is it with life anyway?