Hitchhiker's tale

Ramblings from today...It feels great to update after so long.

I hop from one to the other
to reach, where the lady is waiting.
I drink from the milk of human kindness
and I drink hard
to get drunk
but my feet won't stagger,
I won't fall,
I won't throw up.
I have a lady waiting
I have to go on.

I enjoy the sights,
all that the road has to show.
Green and concrete,
Old and new.
but I am not lost in history
nor in philosophy.
I have a lady waiting
I have to go on.

Diary of an A-League Girl

Day 1-

Ah! he pines away the night,

while I, his thoughts,

stay impervious to him, in my world.

As neutral to him,

as neutral can be.

Amused at his love -

so unrewarding and hopeless.

Sympathetic....

Sympathetic - nothing else.

Day 20-

He looks at me funnily,

longing dripping off his eyes.

I pretend not to see him,

his face, his sad drooping eyes.

Poor soul,

so hopeless and waste-

Why dream of stars

you know, you'll never get!

Day 101-

And he never looked at me,

whole day,

I passed by him thrice.

The hypocrite -

he had promised to love me

all his life.

Any way, it doesn't matter

I am way beyond his league!

Day 120-

Hey, its a month now

and he didn't look at me -

not one day.

I know it for a fact coz

I was looking at him

all these days!

What does he think of him, that moron,

the vile, wretched man.

So, suddenly his love is over?

that lying, ass of a man.

Its good, I could see through him

didn't fall for any of his lies.

What do I care?

Oh no, I don't.

He is just a dumbass,

vile, wretched man.

a drunk man

Dedicated to one of my drunk friend at a certain drunken night.

And the night

he gulped a bottle down,

the galleries trembled

at his madness.

the stairways swayed with him.

His rocking motion,

to and fro.

No mortal soul dare come near him-

No man, no dog

and not even a fly.

The moon hid back in terror,

even stars trembled at his sight.

The night he gulped the bottle down

he looked a man possessed -

exorcists were called.

the saddest love story

It was the saddest of them all-

the stories of love

that ever were writ,

except she never once had said

Oh dear, I love you.

A day of love

My love - one day long,

One day of madness,

One day of song.

With crack of the dawn

and parting of the stars,

there goes my love too -

Long Live the Scars.

Glowing like a hot neon light

I had been to Kolkata this summer. It is a product of that fine trip.

I had come to her,

from far,

and a long time too.

Her eyes were burning with passion.

The spirit was aroused, inflamed

and she stood there blindling,

glowing like a hot neon light.

The gloss of the night was hers,

as was the glamour

and she stood there illuminating

a thousand passers-by.

Moonlight faded in her presence

and night took heart from her soul

as She stood there bewitching,

a world ensnared by ghosts.

The honey kept dropping from heaven,

the fireflies coming up to light...

Somehow something in me had turned -

though I kept looking afar.

You

And You

in my solitude,

my thoughts for nights at stretch.

Yes You,

in company,

where all I see is you.

Just You,

in frolic

but all I think is you.

And You,

in tears,

the tears making dew.

A love that lasts?

I will bring you a rose everyday

for years.

one day, your face will wear down

and will have lines on them

unlike the rose.

But will I go away from you that day?

Not at all,

I will be old too

and you will be all I will ever want.

I will walk with you

to the garden every evening

and one day,

our love will not be fresh as it is today.

You will not giggle at every word I say,

I will not turn my head every few seconds

to see your radiant face

but our love will have grown,

ripened with age like wine

and i know I will love you more

than I will ever have before.

Guilty Confession

Smiling, she asked,

"Who is that you write poems for?

Who is this girl so firm in your thoughts?"

I stuttered and stammered 

and fumbled with words.

" It is you. It is you."

I couldn't tell her.

Disappointed she went,

(Or is it just what my

 imagination makes me think?)

But disappointed indeed was I -

for I couldn't tell her.

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 spare for me, 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.

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.

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.