I’m tired dear friend

I’m tired dear friend, of the run..the endless marathons

The sketches, the erasers, the blueprints 

The adrenaline rushes and then the numbness

I’m tired of the indecisiveness of where I’m headed to

The aching within for all things simple and small

The doubting then, at the end of it all

The screams within and the silenced wall

I’m tired of the uncertainty of what I’m trying for

The mechanical disposal of rigmaroles

Fishing for compliments, maybe at times

and then admitting I don’t own them at all

I’m tired my friend, with the ticking of the clock on our walls

The wandering mind

To fear the fear itself

To resent the resentment

To think not to think

To be conscious of the consciousness

Triviality

The warmth in an early morning cup of coffee…

The much talked about smell of rain kissed earth

A cloudy day, couch and hot food to go with

The petals of the budding rose planted in spring

The joy a long forgotten song can bring

A book with its pages worn of stories…untold

The smiles from the pains of a yesterday

The acceptance after a vain search of an eraser

Oh the pleasures of trivia!

Waiting for you

The wait for footsteps to appear on that lonely path

A longing for the doors to open – with a gentle creak

My yearning to see the stillness in me disrupted

The wait for the rustle of things being moved around

Oh the sweat to see changes unchanging matters of the heart

The Wait

All these days I had waited..
With bated breath and without batting an eyelid

All these days I had hoped against hope
For the skies to open and me to elope

I had my wings but they couldn’t take me far
So I prayed and burnt candles at the altar

I might’ve staggered in the silence
Or played along in the stillness

But i did wait –

With bated breath and without batting an eyelid

Will it be just the same?

Will the walls be just the same? If my scribbling were to be cleared

New paints to adorn it, new wall hangings appeared

Will the doors be just the same? If the dust was dusted

The polish to shine through, old name boards ousted

Will the floors be just the same? If the mess was to be cleaned up

New floor mats for the décor or did new foot prints turn up?

Will the smile be just the same? If the spark in the eyes was to fade

New crinkles round the corner as endless seasons it tries to evade…

Will it ever be just the same…???

He drew a circle that shut me out —
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle that took him in.

Our ways go wide and I know not whither,
But my song will search through the worlds for you,
Till the Seven Seas waste and the Seven Stars wither,
And the dream of the heart comes true.

I will find you there where our low life heightens,
Where the door of the Wonder again unbars,
Where the old love lures and the old fire whitens,
In the Stars behind the stars

Edwin Markham

Guitar

My voice would reach out to the deafest ears,

my tears would melt the hardest rocks

Yet the silence previals with pain,

until u strike these chords…

Cocoon

The fire in your eyes had frozen me

When I fumbled for words before you

When my mind stopped still…

And lips froze like in winter eve

Oh the warmth in ur eyes had burnt me

From inside, leaving me empty

Like a cocoon. Not knowing if I should

Mourn my solitude or celebrate

The life that just flooded out of me!

Moving On

An attempt at a short story…!!!

Is it easy she asked…throwing it all away? Her gaze fixed on his face. What do u mean? I’m just moving on – was his reply. She skirted the issue within her mind. Was it that easy to buy, use and sell things sans any emotions attached? The memories of the trips together and the days he mustve spent wandering in that car! Those rooms and that space..Their time together…will it be the same anymore?

Was it as easy as a fairy tale to tell and vanish?  He dint want to “TALK” about it..waste time on trivia like these. She would do all the emotional war she could for anything and everything and he dint have time for that! He tilted his head ever so slightly to see if the girl opposite to his flat came to her mirror placed so conveniently near the window. She usually did around this time. OHH shit it’s time for those documentation work, that deal is to be sealed today, he had a thousand ‘to-be done’ things and rushed on his way..while she couldn’t get over the shock of how inanimate things remain..inanimate to guys….

Four years…had passed since they said goodbye to each other. She had moved on..She looked pretty with the her sleekness attempting a curve on being a new mom. A miniature form of herself her daughter was!…he thought. Was it easy? Moving on? He wanted to ask. But he knew it would but be taken as nothing but words with a sting as she always termed it. He wished he could teach her….guys probably threw “inanimate” stuffs when statistically it’s been proven that girls have thrown away much more “animated” men in their lives….

He smiled at her happiness the warmth with which she held her girl and the coziness with which she leaned on her husband’s shoulder. Suddenly he wasn’t in a hurry to make those papers and close those deals!