Monday, December 24, 2007

Thirsty basins

The dark sky riddled with bullets
Shines faint, distant lights
The gunfire lulls
In a deadly serene the night awaits the morn

Skeletons of bustling squares
As if skinned of their flesh
Smoke up from the rubble
Faints the beaming moon

Stories of their plight
Showers riches somewhere
They move on
Unknowingly known

In the distant vales the fight is on
To quench the blood thirst
Of a parched up basin.

The riddled sky still shines the faint lights
Far from the world, where there are more beautiful nights.

Hills and Beyond

Flanked by the deep woods
The path decorated by the rustled leaves
I trod to hold
The last rays of trailing light
The crimson residue paints the sky
Slowly the stars appear as I walk by

The night's chill and wind's shrill
Echo in the vales ahead
The moon is cocooned by the clouds
Forming a grand design on the dark canopy

To the wind's whistle
The leaves dance
Stealing from the moon
An occasional glance

Seeing you through every cloud
I reach the edge of a cliff
I yell falling into the deep rift
To the skies,the echoes drift.

Monday, December 17, 2007


Smudged by the smog
The faint lights shimmered
The last passengers in a quick pace
Hurried towards their homes.

The old with the rugs
The little ones in warm hugs
All would circle the bonfires
And exchange warm glances

The little litter-light parleys
Would warm them to a nap
As the the cinder transports the message
To the sky scrapers.

The cinder lingers in the air
Posting it's message at every door
Some are locked up and Some are closed
Some people are dead and Some are non-living.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Paper Flower

I am just looked at
I am overlooked
Never have I felt the touch
I am the paper flower.

Mutely I decorate;
And dusted I am, for there is no near death
watered I am knowing I can't drink
Death I do not realize till it is at brink.

My heart in agony aches
Every time a flower dies
And reminds me I never lived
For I am of paper and dyes.

The dew does not settle on me
Around me,the insects never hover
The girls never wear
For I am a paper flower.

They are smelt, They are touched
They decorate life and also death
But,I am a mute ornate
Till I am outfashioned.

Friday, December 7, 2007


The rumbling rivulet
Snaking its way down the hill
Immerses the pebbles in an ethereal space.
Glistening rays of the noon sun
Sparkle in the water with a spectrum of colors

Clearly and stain free are the pebbles washed
A low noise of splash
Twigs and leaves happily float away

The leaves of the trees
Cast a design with their shadows
They touch the water as little hands
feeling it like joyous children.

The dry leaves as the ships
And the ants as captains
A fleet descends
Goes round over the puddle
As if carrying cartographers

But a cascade they realise is down that way
The ants jump in frenzy and swim to the shore
The dry leaves half dead
Do not care anymore .

They wish to fill their spasmodic hearts
With the last image of the trees
For they would come back in lush green
To enjoy the same beautiful scene.

Tuesday, December 4, 2007


The cup of creativity spills
And then the heart fills
In those few lines, a life is born
Lived, experienced and ended

Almost a cosmic creation
Everytime we knit together the words
To form new worlds, new faces
Describe abstraction and wander places

An outpour of a sojourn mind
Creates a cosmos in the heart
You live the moment it starts
And die when it parts....