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.

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.