Plead for a Siren’s Song

October 23, 2015 § Leave a comment

I’ve bawled a thousand seas,
and stopped– I still love thee
for time’s last tick that be, shamelessly, to eternity!

my body aches, quite literally
yearning normality, a night’s sleep
an early rise, a decent meal –productivity!

and so it does, as you would tell me to,
and oblige, I do,
though a world I can fool
but my soul’s fainting muse,

so bring forth the sickle and bury me
for this world is not a world,
without the power of crafted words
such, feathered and gleaned carefully,

and what use of me –a soulless body–
to dusts of stars all-over, if I cannot
form a sentence of simple decency?

if this be life, I forfeit!
deny me tomorrow’s sky
or hand me Writing’s address,
but afar, and in-between, I cannot comply.


Seashells: To Fling Or Not To Fling

October 19, 2015 § Leave a comment

Hum of Sihinaya

Memories are sneaky little things. They creep up on you when you’re not noticing, then WHAM!You suddenly find yourself drowning in waves of painful, bitter, beautiful, melancholic nostalgia. It’s not like as if you always intentionally recall these memories anyways. Well, at least I don’t. Sometimes, I’d just go about with my day-to-day business, with say, my earphones plugged in. My playlist on shuffle. One jam ends. Another comes on. Or so I think it does. But actually, it doesn’t. Instead, what is randomly selected next isn’t just some song. It’s a trigger. And before I can press pause, the trigger is pulled and a bullet from the past hits me right in the heart. At times, it’d hurt. This is where memories cheekily come into play, in the midst of this pain. They’d sneak out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks. They, no, I… I can’t…

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a letter

October 12, 2015 § Leave a comment

I haven’t written you
in what seems to have lasted longer
than my mind can remember.

So here’s an attempt,
by which I wish to
fulfill my heart’s desire
in writing to you.

I long for you,
and I long for your smile.
I’ve missed witnessing it
form before me.

Your presence had me
spinning in my seat,
and flying as you’d speak.

Your company, my lovely,
is an asset I could never measure
by numbers, or word
in lines.

Everything magnifies
by your side;
your happiness, my felicity,
your sadness, my misery.

So borrow my joy
in the form of a handkerchief,
and use it to brush away
the tear that falls to your cheek.

Hand me your pain
so together, we paint a portrait
of our days; piece by piece.

Until I re-turn
and you are next to me,
and my heart’s weeps fall
for comedy, instead of tragedy.

I cried when I read a poem today–

October 2, 2015 § Leave a comment

–as I listened to my childhood’s muse,
and memory’s past;
it need not be sensical
though sentiment, it cast.

The soul never made sense
to mankind;
so how do you say, my lovely
that poetry
can ever be defined,
within the limits
of your little mind?

When we have yet
to discover the universe,
and yet to dissect a cell,
So how, my lovely,
do you expect
to describe a passageway
between the heavens, and us,
–when its screech, whimper, and sigh,
floods our history dry?

How can you
define the soul as it tries
to speak and regenerate
in your finite, fruitless, language?

Something as holy and frail,
chooses poetry as its bridge for repentance
and you dare, confine it
for life, in a mere sentence.

Where Am I?

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