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.

The tiger and me

I met it in the vast greens

just beside the dark of the jungle.

It was crouching –

Its striped soul shining

against the dazzling sunlight.

The tall grasses

hid its tales of terror,

the sharp fangs and even sharper claws.

It was crouching,

moving, crouching again.

Closing onto its hapless prey

who looked about with timid eyes.

One leap would have ended it all –

One step from freedom,

One step from God.

The canines flashed

and claws shone into its eyes.

Just one stop from heaven,

Just one step from God.

My guns bammed first

and bullets found shelter in its heart.

With flashing eyes the tyrant looked

and limped at me unarmed.

In that raining sunlight,

with its blood stained coat,

and it fell thud to ground.

That night, we celebrated –

with chicken and lamb chops

and after countless retellings of the story

I was born a Demi-God.

The saviour of men

The hero of the land.

But deep within me

a little something was wrong –

In my plate was the same lamb

I had saved from those cruel claws.

And my eyes drift to you

Why do my eyes drift to you

ever so often?

When i am full at head

and worries bother me night and day.

I have not, but,  a second to spare

- and my thoughts drift to you.

My worries are gone,

all troubles lost.

If only for that second,

I feel opiumed,

flying, till my senses come around.

You are there - 

but not for me.

The bridge between 

is long lost.

I come back to my real world

with my worries and all.

The moment of bliss is gone -  

not to be back, ever,

or may be until i drift back again.

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.

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.