Saturday, June 12, 2010

turn to dust.

color me black,
 like those 
secrets, which sleeps
 as weeds
 on lips  
of that woman.
     she  walked for ages,
      with a piece of wood,
       searching for a broken cradle,
    And there she stands
       in-between upside down pots
    and wet grasses ,
  to wrap her son's clay. 

        color me yellow,
        like those  
     sun-rays, which settles
        as fires,
      on dreams
       of that man.

    He walked by shores,
    across sands and stones,
   Like a poetry in a beggar's sleep
     Stealing away two orphaned stars,
    And there he stands
 in-between upside down pots
     and the jealous night,
     to wrap his last sleep.

color me concurrently,
  all those
  shades, which snitches,
    as reflections,
 of a rainbow
  in drops.

   we are nothing but
   those drops that run through leaves,
 we stand in a row on the edge,
     and pretend to fall
   a million times,
      while it slowly breezes ,
   before we truly meet the ground
   and turn to dust. 

  In-between upside down pots
and wet grasses.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Walk besides me.

sometimes am lonely and lost,
but am not alone.
the red trees walk/will walk besides me
 all the way ,
 till am gone.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

You will return.

I watch you from the otherside,
No one shows you a land tonight.
Winter is no where near,
But you will wait no more,
you will fold your hands,
and make wings,
like a migratory bird
you will return back home,
even before the morning shines.

Dont listen to them.
people, they say,
 to sell.
You , you can mould a song.
Sing it,
you can sing it for me.
You, you can tell me again
cry it,
i will listen with silence,
till the night is gone. 

Just like my yesterdays
the tommorows will be red.
May be i will walk again,
from that path I left,
or that i began.
May be i will sing again
that sad song of heaven
or that of hell.
Left or right, past or present,
I know nothing about me
neither the four walls i see.

But i know when summer comes
you will be home again.
And i will dream of you,
the way you  look through your window pane,
waiting for the rain.

I watch you from the otherside,
No one shows you a land tonight.
I cant read the road signs,
Nor see the lights ,
But i know you break and bend, 
and will stand again,
Like circles it will  return,
like a string less kite you will fly

And return back home,
even before, the morning shines.

Monday, June 7, 2010


And to hear again and again,
as you say, a stone is good for nothing,
can create a mountain too high,
And if ever, there were diamonds,
or a tiny heart,
...It could be never gained,
like time getting buried under sinking sand.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

behind that door.

she lives behind that door.
left all alone,
like that water on shore,
when the waves return.

she could sing to you,
of histories buried under stone,
of seas that turned to sand,
that sand which someone held,
and kept near for ages,
But as the hour glass broke,
it slipped to cover her
from bottom to head.

she could whisper to you
of a ship where an ocean sank,
of lost sailors that 
found a place where
the city never saw a land;
strangers built houses,
from deck of cards,
black and red.

like that hole in a broken branch
left as smoke that was never white.
as the color of that stain on her lips,
left as footsteps
of those strangers who built those
houses in every corner in her,
she gave.

she lives behind that door.
left all alone,
she could have answered
But no one knocks her any more.