real artist

if every time , when I hold a brush to paint,
All I do is ,try to hold your hand,
come close and reach for you,
then who is the real artist,
me or you?

_ nisha

silence

i share this silence
From the window of my room
with a distant tree,
but of all nights,
tonight is the worst,
for the tree has birds,
and am lost without friends.

-nisha

she,

today i cried
like a child before her
and she said nothing.

today i ran.
like a house on fire,
and she said nothing.

today,I lost
all love I had,
and she said nothing.

Today ,with a bleeding feet,
I said I want to walk
alone a mile,
And she whispered okay


SIlence is golden,
like the sun.
but the warmth is making
me more cold,
And I need some words today
talk to me lady
of castles,
of princesses,
of love that finds a way.
talk to me lady,
of a hour,
of a day,
of a minute that finds a way.
I know its not easy.
but sell me a lie.
I cannot sleep tonight.
I know its not easy,
but sell me to lie,
I cannot sleep tonight..

tomorrow, yes tomorrow
shall rise,.
or may be i would be gone,
but i dont want her to speak
of yesterdays,
for i know she cares,
and she should never cry,
angels should never cry.


silence is golden
like the sun,
whom and why
should i blame,
if am the one who wears
a sweater in summer,
and weeps about
winter and rain.
tonight I quote aazar
as i sleep,
there is no poetry in being alone,
tonight i think of neruda
as i turn,
I can write the saddest poem of all"


tonight, yes tonight
i will burn again,
like the same old story,
on a rupee i will leave behind
my legacy
a poem and a penny
that's all i leave
and you will hear nothing,
I will say nothing.

today i lost a friend,
the last one i Have,
and she said nothing.

today i cried ,
like a child,
before her
and she said nothing.

_ nisha .

proposal

there is this place. there's nothing great yet ..l. It used to have green fields and a flock of birds always used to visit. peaceful. Infact the perfect one, during nights, where everything is dark, and the airport lights shine to direct the plane, its as if the best time to express your love. the roads, the place, I get lost to be found again. Peace.i have been so many times..

-nisha



Me-
this is the place, between two big fields.
not a special one,
no one stops here even for a second,
But i am here when i loose or gain myself.
Rocks,grasses and an empty road.

Its getting dark now,
look at the left,beyond the fields,
there is a play of lights,
basically its an airport, and the roads guide the plane landing,
but can you pretend that I decorated the roads,just to make this night
oddly special? While I confess.


This broken place,with stones, grasses and big
fields ant special like flowers, music or violins.
It shall never be a perfect memory?
But perhaps I want it this way.

Cause

when i will whisper you about
my imperfect love ,
It shall be the same,
incomplete,
unaccepted,
and
something that
will never remain
as a perfect
special memory.
(for you)


(But will be oddly special for me,
like the rocks, grasses and fields)

I have done the sin

 

Mother, I have done the sin,
I cant feel what they feel within.
Am an artist made of stone.
Blind, like the sun in the night,
walking on a road with holes.
I cant feel the colors.
That differs a skin from the other.

Noise, like a swarm of bees in the wind,
I cant hear the music.
In temples, and mosques,All appears to be the same.

words, like a woman born in the sea,
I cant listen to the song of the grass.
When mountains and stone share the same sky,
I cant see languages cry.
For I am just a stone.

An incorrect artist to the rights of the world.

[Courtesy= Gururaj Raghavendra

Sony salma Priyadarshin]

Papers cannot hold the rain

Papers cannot hold the rain,
neither will water remain
like cigarette ashes on tray,
Alcohol on your lips wont stay.Neither will I.
But in a corner in me, the sin will lie.
...When they say rules are to be broken,
I say, Cross the lines.
Cause Papers cannot hold the rain.

Sinking sun

 And what rises in the orange skies,is nothing but a sun sinking in the sea.