Showing posts with label Thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thoughts. Show all posts

Wednesday, 22 April 2015

Free Soul

He can make reality out of fiction and fiction out of reality leaving you wonder about the hidden truth. You just can't really judge him. You shouldn't attempt to. He is too many people in one person. You can't keep hold on to him for long. An artist is a free soul. A wanderer - but certainly not lost.

Friday, 17 April 2015

Wreck

I was too deep an ocean and you were too heavy to float. It caused you to drown. And that was the thing I was most afraid of. I thought you could sail or swim. But you didn't. You couldn't. You weren't even prepared to plunge. But you did and drowned. You took the risk. You couldn't measure the depth of my love. Now at the bottom of my heart you will remain buried forever, like a shipwreck at the bottom of the ocean. I was too deep for you. Sigh!

Sunday, 8 March 2015

Change

Winter is almost gone and the Spring is coming. Seasons change and they leave us sick. Maybe because we get so used to some things that their absence makes us restless. And this is true with people too perhaps. They change and leave us sick.

Friday, 6 March 2015

Intuition

Sometimes I think,
if I hide myself,
would you come
to find me?
But I don't.

Because,
somewhere
deep down,
I already know
that you won't.

Tuesday, 27 January 2015

The Interview

He was being interviewed at his first book launch.
 
"One last question Mr. Dev", asked the interviewer, "how would you like to be remembered after you leave this world?"
 
"I don't want to be remembered at all", there was a small pause before he continued, "because it'll hurt my people more then".
 
"I want to be remembered now when I'm all alive. If someone loves me, misses me or cares for me, I want them to come to me and say it looking straight into my eyes."
 
"For me, this makes more sense because once I'm gone, I won't be there to know it, I won't be there to appreciate it. So do it now and let me reciprocate what I feel for you."
 
"Because life is too short to be shy."

His answer got more buyers than his book.

Monday, 18 August 2014

Silence

Tears unrolled,
Pain untold,
She thinks no one cares,
If she doesn't share.
But I can read minds,
Maybe she's unaware.
As I pack my stuff,
She keeps herself tough.
But I know her inner state,
I wish I could stay, but,
The time wouldn't wait.
I still have to depart,
Though with a heavy heart.
The journey is self chosen,
Her silence leaves me frozen.
To ask her, I couldn't dare.
All I can say is that,
Some fairwells aren't fair.

 
P.S. - Dedicated to all the strong mothers out there whose children have to leave their home for study/work.

Monday, 21 July 2014

If I Were Not Me

I wonder if I were not me,
What else I could be,
A flower among the thorns,
Or a quiet summer tree.
A lonely artist's brush,
Or someone's first crush.
Maybe I could be a guitar,
Or a wish granting star.
Rain shower in summer noon,
A child's amaze, a balloon.
Roaring like an ocean's tide,
A quiet tear of a new bride.
What if I be your smile,
Resting on your lips for awhile.
Or what if I be in your heart deep?
Will you mind me to forever keep?

Sunday, 13 July 2014

She is Poetry

Poetry doesn't have to rhyme.
I am not perfect,
neither you nor anyone.
She is not perfect either.
But she is poetry.
And she doesn't rhyme.
But then again,
poetry doesn't have to rhyme.

Sunday, 4 May 2014

The Meeting Point

It's so good for two people to be like two parallel lines. Both will move to the same direction keeping the exact and perfect distance. It's like two people living a life their own way yet complimentary to each other. One's life is independent yet incomplete without the other. Maintaining the perfect amount of space and distance between the relation - not so far, no so close. But then there is a negative point - they don't meet each other. Never ever. This makes their relation incomplete though unending.

And then there are two intersecting lines. They move to their own directions at their own pace. They do not compliment each other. They are free - like wind blowing at its own will. But they meet for at least once. And that point, that intersecting point, is their mark of perfection. At this very point they are in complete harmony and in complete surrender. They lose themselves in each other. At that point, their identity is merged and there remains no one or the other.

This intersection, this meeting point doesn't last for long. But in that one moment they are in perfection. And then they move again to their predefined directions at their predefined pace - never to meet each other again.

I see both of us like those two intersecting lines. And I'm glad that for at least one moment we were in perfection.

Sunday, 20 April 2014

Opposites Attract

They thought they were opposites. She liked summers while he felt winters more comforting. She liked sunny days but to him, rains always made him dance though he was not at all good at dancing. She didn't like books but he had a personal library. Also, she wasn't a loner like him, among other things. They were quite opposites you know. And yet they felt the pull towards each other. Like they say, opposites attract, so was their story.

They met couple of times like two random flowers touch mid-air when the wind is blowing. They were like those two random flowers. But he couldn't bear the force of wind and fell on the ground while she blossomed even more.

She was the poetry and he was the poet. For some time, they both were complimentary to each other like a poem and the signature under it. She was known by him and he was by her. Then came the time when signature turned into initials and initials too lost their importance. Like it always happens, everyone remembered the poem and forgot the poet. She was still a poem but he became an anonymous poet. Gradually he lost the anonymous title too.

They thought they were opposites, so as a rule, they would attract. Of course they did, but not for long. They weren't opposites, they were quite similar. They were like same poles of two magnets. And whenever they tried to come close, they pushed each other in the opposite directions.  

Sunday, 13 April 2014

Favorites Forever

There are some of my favorite things. Like that restaurant where I have been to only once and it just became my favorite. I have a shirt which I wore only once and it is hanging in my closet since then. But it's my favorite of all the shirts I have. There is a book resting on my shelf, half read and the bookmark is still sandwiched between its pages. That book is my favorite though never completed. I have a collection of songs in my cellphone which I have listened to only once or some of them maybe twice. But that playlist I have named it 'Favorites'. It's been long since I have played it. But like other things, it's my favorite.

It may sound weird. But you know why I follow this practice? Why I don't visit my favorite restaurant often or why I never wore that shirt again? Why I haven't completely read my favorite book and among other things, why I don't play my 'Favorite' playlist more often? Because I want all these things to remain my favorites forever.

If, for instance, I listen to that song again and again, it won't sound as special as it does now. If I complete reading my favorite book it may become part of that stack of books which I once read but never touched again. Not even dusted them off. I just want my favorites to remain as such. And I always want to feel curious about them all the time.

Should I tell you one more thing? You are my favorite of favorites. But I don't come to see you often. And now you better know why?

Tuesday, 8 April 2014

Random Five Liners - 5

If I was a color,
I'd choose to be white,
graciously losing itself,
yet alone
shining bright.


***


Setting aside my fears,
someone's hand in mine,
a long walk in the rain,
yes, I am ready,
to play love again.

***

You, in my arms,
with all your charms,
your breath touches
my bare chest,
I shiver in love.


***


Lovers depart,
with heavy heart,
carrying along
a bag full of
broken promises.

***

Memories knock,
each midnight,
I weave words,
another poem
gets a shape.


***

Thursday, 3 April 2014

Lost and Found

So the wind blew,
and thunder strokes,
made me aware of the
world around with hope.
Lost in my own wound,
I ignored the reasons,
which could spellbound.
And it was then when I
moved around my eye,
that I found my pain looks
as tiny as a star in the sky.
And I realized,
I was worrying in vain,
In that very moment,
I found myself again.

Tuesday, 1 April 2014

April

In the middle of winter and summer,
Is a month with soothing glimmer,
Eliot says it's the cruelest of all,
But hope still lingers though small,
Seeing it coming my heart thrives,
I open my arms wide as April arrives.


P.S. - T. S. Eliot was a famous poet who wrote the poem "The Waste Land", the first line of which says,"April is the cruelest month".

Sunday, 23 March 2014

Just Because

Just because he remains quiet,
Doesn't mean everything's alright,
Maybe he is waiting for the one,
Who'll come and embrace him tight.

Wednesday, 19 March 2014

Random Five Liners - 4

I shall wait,
for the rain
of love, to pour
on your soul again.
I shall wait that long.


***


A new season
a new reason,
to the tune
of love,
I dance again.

***

Let me forget
what has passed
and write poems
for the one
awaiting me.


***


Come back once,
if you care,
my soul is bruised,
just repair,
and disappear.

***

It's Spring,
let me dance and sing,
I've written a new song,
in the memory of
someone forever gone.


***

Thursday, 13 March 2014

Random Five Liners - 3

I'll wait some more
till someone again
falls in love
with my words, and
with me too, forever.


***


Comes Spring
my life spins
upside down
she goes out of range
as the seasons change.

***

And you think what you did was right?
What do you have?
Skin that is so white?
Oh, c'mon baby!
Your heart is as black as night.


***


A balcony
two cups of tea
some English songs
exchanged for memories
of a lifetime.

***

Let us be
strangers again
and meet someday,
at the crossroads
of life, smilingly.


***

Tuesday, 11 March 2014

Art

I am the sun,
the moon,
the stars.
I am the pain,
the wound,
the scars.
I am the breeze,
the clouds,
the showers.
I am the paper,
the brush,
the guitar.
I am the joy,
the sorrow,
the laugh.
I am the leaf,
the flower,
the grass.
I am the light,
the void,
the dark.
I am the voyage,
the end,
the start.
I am the mind,
the soul,
the heart.
And what not?
I am the artist,
the craft,
the art.

Friday, 7 March 2014

Random Five Liners - 2

More often
they don't recognize
what they've lost
until it becomes
memoir of yesteryears.


***


Some poems
written on soul
refuse
to be exposed
on paper.

***

He loved
he went far
lost his way
returned home
before sunset.


***


It passed
so fast
that we couldn't
even bid
a final adieu.

***

The night
taught him lessons
he forgot
before the dawn, and
fell in love again.


***

Wednesday, 5 March 2014

Random Five Liners - 1

Let us travel
back to the time
when you and I
would never meet
and never separate.


***


People come
and go
as they please,
sometimes they take
your soul away.

***

Even after ages
some memories
remain
as fresh as
morning dew.


***


You neither own
people around you,
nor you own,
the right, not to
forgive them.

***

If you see
how God manages all
you will know
you do not own
all the problems.


***

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