Find me!

I have to learn yet again to be subtle. To conceal, to take my eyes away because I don’t want to be revealed. The gravest insecurity I have is to be discovered. I believe no one can be explored completely. But right at this moment, I need a cloud, some rains, a green meadow, a nightfall, a mist, a thundershower, some winter, some half-scribbled words to hide me. I want to just run away to my secret garden.

I can measure every ounce of this restlessness in me. I desire it to stay, to overpower all my words, my thoughts, my ideals, especially my silences. The reflection has ceased to show me. I can't see me, I have removed the steam, where am I? Where did I go? Find me.

The more I seek it, the more am lost and the more I grow restless. However, I don’t like it to be finished before I am. I longed for a closure, a closure that will brush an identity. The identity will acknowledge the warmth of my sun, my turns and returns, my concealment and revelation, my findings and my restlessness! Still I would ask find me!

To be born!

How good does it feel to be reborn? Birth involves a lot of pain. It isn’t trifle, it isn’t diurnal. To labor birth is something tremendous. It makes you not one or two, it makes you innumerable. Birth isn’t just for a moment or a day or a sunrise. It is beyond sunset and much before sunrise.

It is a space between thoughts, interludes of emotions, a breathless split. Born to live a plethora of silences, of sighs, of restlessness, of presumptions, and of course of longings! Isn't it? And even to meet faces. Faces that provokes thoughts. Thoughts that initiates your prayers. Prayers that turn the pages of your day. Day that bears the fruit of your life. And life that is born over and over again.

It is amazing to realize what a moment can give that might no longer be possible for a lifetime to reap. A word, a heartbeat, a night can do wonders! They really do! Each one of us is in inertia for that one thing for that one touché — before sunrise, before sunset.

There needn’t be a thousand flowers, there needn’t be that perfect snow, the early morning dew drops on grass blades; but it is that perfect gesture even in a forest of commotion. It might be the briefest of flash, but it will brush you blue, red, white, violet! And then you will be born, may be — before sunrise, before sunset.

Water!

a palatte of desires

What an act you put?
Calling me a strange fruit
An apple of all sins
Is it your overwhelming despise?
Or melting commotion of longing?

You visit my empty hands
That draws intermittent nourishment
Feeding my malice
In my secluded hours
Why do you keep governing my untamed thoughts?

Your oriental mood tempts
When you pretend to ignore
Like a dagger eager to pierce
Through my secluded belongings
Why I fail to satiate you every time?

You are my escapes
When my land failed to reap a word
And when my heart was scared to yearn for a gift
How random you are born and you rift!
Teach me your courtesy
Take this me as me
Come to my last embers to stay
Come to satiate my word
Come when I’m at bay
Come as my master, as my lord

My Proud Peacock!

This time of year
You proud peacock
What makes you act sans fear?
Gifted by nature
You deny
You are only a measured bait!

Your pride fails to buy
My connoisseur eye
You proud being
Step down on earth
And let our story begin

You flaunting feathers
In cloud and heathers
Blessed with a life
Do just dare
To descend your stair
To meet some face
Cause you are no prophet!

Your living process too
Is destined to cease
So,
When our ends are same
Why feed a mind untamed?

Poetry

What does your word mean?

You scribbled commotion!

You restless scene!

An abode of vagueness,

That pours insanity in mind.

Why are you so proud?

A web of emotion!

Clawing an eternal duel,

Breeding a world of lexicon.

You reach my hand,

You curve my stand,

Then you cover my seasons,

With snowy cold reasons.

You are my escapes

My silences

A sweet nothingness

Melting my defences

You are my sleep

When my wet eyes keep me awake

Poetry – my beloved sins of will

When I speak no language, but cry

Only When I Sleep!

I feel a pair of eyes
Measuring my sleep
When I falter deep
In the harvest I reap

I feel this pair
Briefing my turns
In nights cold
When my skin hides in a demanding fold
Under your russet sky

Why do you hear me sleep?
Why wonder what my dreams weave?
Leave my thoughts
You deviate me
From my right and from my wrong
From the road where I belong

I am not you
I am mundane
I am vague
Lost in my divided fight

Afternoon!

Afternoon,
When my heart spoke
And your bubble broke
Afternoon is my time of day
When you speak to me
Under the sky we lay

Afternoon,
With you my thoughts
When emotions swim up a lot
When you serve me food
In my brooding mood

Afternoon,
Is when you are there
Accompanying me for the thoughts I share

Afternoon,
When your fingers touch
To tell me truth that you care too much

Afternoon,
When you turn to me
To say out loud that you're special to me!