Wednesday, December 21, 2011

The Curse

It sank in the haunted loneliness

In merciless gloom of the divorce

It shrank into the limitless void 

Wondering at unforgiving wrongs

Weeping in dead burning tears

Lies crept under into its warmth

And dug the sacred scar

It bled till it could love no more

Silence revolted

The cottage was burnt down

The witch escaped

Placed upon the Waking Tomb

The curse of slumber

It slept through the plague

And answered no prayers.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Written in Early December.

Hands that pray for warmth
Come together to whisper
A silent wish of her being

The moon becomes the master
And she the willing slave
On nights of his silver glory
She hides in a trembling cave

The ghosts recite their tales
The lovers long to smile
She drowns in the weeping waters 
of an inconsolable Nile.

Ahead she never moves
Before she never loves
Draws the curtains of smiles
And listens to lonely doves

In blue she breathes her days
In grey she sings the nights
Away from herself in truth
Away from laughing lights

  From different worlds she rises
And sinks in the eager sands
All that remains behind
Are her prayers in a pair of hands.

Sunday, December 04, 2011

What shall

The silent stare of the the night
Winds waltzing around with dust
Spirits singing to earthly mates
Burning in haunted lust

A fire breathing its last
In the midst of mocking ashes
A song from the womb of whiskey
Into his numbness crashes

A frown upon a forehead
The scent of evening prayers
Driving away an evil
That often pulls the chairs

The lamps that light for nobody
But for the whistling man
His family sleeps in his quarters
All of them who can

The bareness of a page
I clad with weeping ink
What will become of it
After the darkness shall sink?

A tragedy to be alive?
Or some comedy to pass away
In the middle of loving and laughing
One maddening November or May.

Thursday, December 01, 2011

With Myself

Unwritten words are the best I write
Unsaid words are the truest I speak
Unseen sunsets are the loveliest of all
Unsung melodies are my masterpieces
An old wound decides to bleed once more
A spirit wants to sing along
A cloud longs to turn into grey
A wind whims into a storm
Then her prayers touch my skin
Through a bracelet of sacred threads
Her sleep she wishes off
Into my slumber less eyes
And from a place far off
I get a message that I am
And will always be dearly loved
And she who was given her breath
In the same womb as I
Holds my hand, or plants a kiss
On my mosquito devoured cheeks.
Or gives a hug  that warms my soul.
He doesn’t often say it
But I come to know
When he gifts me a book
And quotes lines from a page
And wipes off a tear
The lines that say
“Our daughter. Meanwhile was fast
asleep herself, one little hand showing
Above the bedclothes. Clenched in it
was my heart”
And this, what mortals call Love
Brims my being
And I smile and laugh into tears
Tonight when I met the mirror.
It smiled back at me
and said “You’re beautiful”.