The last breath

 If this is the last thing I am ever  going to say,

and my breath will be done away with, at last,

Should I tell you that I loved you the whole of my life

Or should I just die, saying nothing at all.

Will you shed me, but a tear or two,

I don't ask for much, you see,

Or will your eyes be with the drought that your heart has

And I shall die, unheard of, uncried.

When I die, Will you lay me a flower,

and go into mourning - white dress and all.

Will you love me, even a fraction of what I loved you

If your name is in the name I breathe last.

Its just not how I meant it to be.

No Gratitude, No obligation,
No burning desire for any confrontation,
No moral pangs, No heart to ache,
Just a wicked brain, and some cruel calculation.

No stirring soul, No tears in eye,
No prophets to preach, No knowledge of right.
No friends to help, No foes to fight.
Just an ugly heart, just an ugly time.

No birds to sing, no sun to shine,
No hiss of rain, no moon at nine.
No summers to be, no spring in sight,
Just a wicked world,and a wicked guy.

When the war is gone

I shall be free

from famine
the food will flow free,
When the war is gone.

The days I starve
will be the days of past
Everyday a feast
When the war is gone.

My little sis
will go to school
and so will I
When the war is gone.

The fields will be safe
and Dad will grow
wheat, maize and peas
When the war is gone.

The spring will come
and so will sweet birds.
The rains will fall
When the war is gone.

waiting in the spring

I wait for you though you had never promised to come. my heart is praying. eyes waiting.I wait and I wait.

Waiting for you –
When the spring is ripe,
And the flowers carpet the path
Through which I hoped you would pass.

I lay my love with the flowers,
The horizon my eyes are gone.
My lips they chant a prayer.
I wait for you to arrive.

My body may be a trifle tired
And heart a little sad,
But the eyes are not yet sorry
They have hope in the path.

The flowers haven’t crumbled,
The fragrance not yet gone.
The birds may be a bit silent,
But the season of love ain’t past

A dagger seems to rip me
Of longing and endless wait.
But I lay my love with the flowers
For their beauty ain’t yet past.

September

Sweet scent of September
of soil wet by rain.
A winter far approaching
and a summer gone to grave.

The simple joys of toiling farmers
and a harvest that is going to be.
Days of humble expectations
Oh September! How lovely you be.

The fragrance of rickety roses,
a sweetheart coming in rain.
O lovely, charming September
and the wonders thou can bring.

Dawns of innocent desires
The noons of waiting for a sight.
And evenings with bitter sweet memories
The dreams of so many nights.

O lovely, lovely September.
The days of first love my.
And the world was as happy as I was –
The earth, the seas and the sky.

O wonderful, wonderful September
I am so grateful to thee.
With all your joys and thunder
I wish you will always be.

Crying by your window side

The sea gulls had risen
the night, it had come.
And in the silence of the dark –
I cried by your window side.

The morning sun then came
and woke the spring around.
I had the birds singing around me,
flowers blossoming by my side.
But my eyes, now blind to beauty,
they still cried by your window side.

Spring gave way to autumn
And autumn to winter mean.
The leaves bloomed, and fell to earth.
Bitter snow, took away all the mirth.
But my body, oblivious to pain,
And my eyes, still cried by your window side.

Centuries passed, I don’t know –
When my body turned to soil.
I grew one with nature
in the trees and fragrant lights.
But with songs of the birds
Leaving pearls on grass –
I still cry by your window side.

The Last Temptation

I wrote it a day after holi while visiting an uncle's place. Just trying to figure out love and its little pleasures.

Years of longing,
centuries of love
and a dark night of rejection.
A tide away from the black waves
of your curly blackness.
A sunset in my heart
coinciding the moonlight on your face.
All the bridges break
and pillars snap
in the thunder and the heavy winds.
End of wait for a tomorrow
that is never to be.

A life about to go
but for the loveliness of your face
and your innocent smile.
A sight to behold -
and my last temptation.

the lass, the oak and a tragic love story

Some say it is my best so far...and i do not disagree.

Once, not long ago,
in a city that bled;
A young lass, so pretty a face,
on her wedding night fled.

An oak in the park
had marked her love since first.
She waited there with longing
and a heart that was going to burst.

Minutes slid by to hours
no wheels screeched to halt.
No knight in shining armour.
Oak burned at love's fault.

Stars soon departed
and night left tears on grass.
With flowers was the body,
the lass,undone by love.

my love lives deep within me

I don't feel well today.Something is missing and I know what it is. Just posting an old piece I had written last semester when the colours were brighter and the weather less oppressing.

I have long desired
to live in those eyes.
For so long that
the desire somehow became
a part of me.
I am now an expression
of my beliefs and my hopes;
And now it is immaterial,
that I find those eyes.
Bcoz what I have been looking out
has long been within me.
I have risen above the cravings
and the desires
and I have found love
deep within me.

The tyranny of light

What we know to be right may be wrong.What we believe is good, may still be not that good.Just trying that with light...to find out how much darkness means to us.

The tyranny of light;
it tears,
the heart of the night
unapologetically.

Every morning on the run,
many a nights are dead
by the mighty warrior Sun.
He and the tyranny of light

Just look at night,in pain
through men and sun alike,
On the grass are the tears it rain.
With stabs on skin,but hope in its heart,
lives the tyranny of light.

It rises again, day after day,
gives warm quilts of December
undoes a cruel sun in hot May.
It rises,to live
and be dead again at dawn;
killed by the tyranny of light.

love and land

I don't know what to write about it.Wrote it in the class, and my mind was wandering in a world of its own and I felt the words coming from somewhere deep within.

A garden goes to waste,
the plants wait for you.
So do the birds parched on the trees,
the plants,the grass and the early morning dew.

A kaleidoscope of emotions
will show you what I have.
The colours are a thousand,the patterns a million,
and so are the motifs of my heart.

The birds flock the sky,
but sing a sorry tune.
A palace but with no subjects,
haunting like some ancient ruin.

But the one who would change it all
is away, long gone from land.
And even the sun is sorry
and the land is sad,
and the soil is slowly turning to sand.

I can live no more for world

Days come when have lows and ur life looks so futile and u feel....

Let me die tonight,

I can live no more for world.
Let me die tonight,
I will live another day.

I have still some jobs to do,
but they can be done another day.
I have still a lot to prove,
but it can wait another day.

Lemme die tonight,
I have got nothing more to do.
I promise I will be back,
with the coming of the morning dew.

The world that waits me there,
is sweeter than the world I live.
The fires of the hell are colder,
than the fires I am thrown in.

Lemme die tonight,
I have got a right to do.
I am putting up with more than normal,
and I don't want it like this.

Lemme die tonight,
I can live no more for world.
Lemme die tonight,
I will live another day.

Wooden Heart

It is difficult to protect your love when your heart has been wronged.The bitter taste may linger in the mouth for ever,but let not your heart be broken on a stone.

All this time,I was writing,
letters to another moon,
and I thought, the replies,
would come some day soon.
But my hopes were hollow -
the moon was a little too far,
before my words reach the ears,
they had to pass an iron bar.
And the heart,that would read them,
had been cold for quite some time.
The letters were burnt to warm it,
but failed to do the job.
All the time, I was loving,
I was loving a wooden heart.

The land of the proverbial Sun

Hopes abound,in the land of
the proverbial sun.
The land,
where the fields are green
and farms aplenty.
A blessed place.
The land of fruits and flowers.
Yes, hopes abound
for a place where
the men are plain,
true and honest.
A place where
the sword hasn't seen
the light of the day.
The place of peace;
a pilgrimage to humanity;
Where black is
but, only a colour
and white, the way of life.

I look for beauty and I find naught

It has been said that beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, and I find that, for sure.

In the spring,
in the forest green,
I look for beauty
and I find naught.

In the garden,
in the flowers bloomed,
I look for beauty
and I find naught.

In the mountains,
and in the snow
I look for beauty
and I find naught.

I look all around
and I don't find any beauty
For I had no beauty
in the core of my heart.