Tuesday, February 22, 2011

A regular person

Never been that regular a person.
All the things people say, they enjoy
are lost on me, day after day.
The morning freshness and the
dew drops under first sunlight
never catch up with my late rise.
In both rain and sun
I only run for the nearest shelter.
Not that I disallow little drops
and pencil rays directed at me.
I am largely private to this public display.
Admiration comes only later though.
Living for the moment scares me.
Every thought in me spirals across
to catch up with its ancestors.
I am mostly made of worries.
A modern man, you would agree.
My past and future are in a bitter battle.
And I seek refuge from time to time.
The words that I describe myself with
are so loosely arranged like empty vessels
with round bases in the kitchen racks.
A slight wind could rattle them into noise.

A trapped mouse

A mouse, like the muse
is trapped on stage.
Poetry is read to an audience
largely assembled for Nirvana.
The sweat and toil of the poet
go unnoticed in the evening banter.
The room is filled with
open minds and closed definitions.
No one is driving a point hard.
But even a slight pressure of doubt
could prick the balloons into a burst.
Questions raised, fall on deaf ears
and there is a point made
about the point of view.
The poet's eyes scurry
end to end, across the room.
The mouse moves from gap to gap
entertaining a discerning eye and the muse
sits like a bride, awaiting judgment.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

The stranger in you

Whatever you do
There is a stranger in you
Surprise, always kept at bay
Blames you for all this delay.
Push a limit here
Draw your self a little near
There are looking glasses all over
Waiting for you to cross-over.
A form of you, not that truthful
is lurking in the sunny meadows.
A voice from the heart, all rueful
is hiding in a zebra of shadows.
Music from a blaring trumpet of winning
muffles the experience of losing.
All that was well
shoved under the carpet
has dark circles under its eyes
of sleepless inquiries.
To grab a piece of peace
Meet the stranger in you.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Silly machinations

You challenged the old hand of time
With silly machinations of eternity
An age, drunk on youth
on a night out of its mind.
All has come back.
Primmed up for the carnival.
The pain of upkeep of the promises made.
Scars of yesterday's crossing of hearts.
Have a look, will you?
What was loved and hated is on a rewind
In a soulful ripple on the gaping mind
A quiet Himalayan lake.
Never frozen.
Never at rest.