Amber eyes

A shuttered window half closed
Knocking in the breeze of night
A face peeps out from behind the blinds
In the glow of candlelight
She watches the big moon alone
and whispers of its scars
She raises her hand to smooth-en
the knotted brow afar
The moon is calmer now
Smiling down its dwight
The melancholy is not overwhelming she thinks
as she sidles back out of sight...

Frail

Some tiny wisps are enough to hold the world together. Some of the most convoluted knots just untie themselves. Sometimes only silence can do justice to the unsaid. And sometimes the meanest deeds gladden the heart.

Its not the world that has gone bonkers. Neither has the it been turned on its head.
Its just spinning, crazed beyond a point by the mundane.

The crystal is clear for a change.


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Waves

The waves felt my feet, cold and white
Sensed their fears and cajoled them to life

They skipped and held to the sands beneath
Somewhere they were but one

Shimmering in the light of the setting day.





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Its cold... when September ends

Autumn isn't out the doors yet, and the chill in the air is unmistakable. The fog, thick and dense is not too far off either.

She pulls her warm clothes closer and sinks into what will be the most natural state for her, her cold winter. Her true element is at peace here, in the cynicism hidden in the biting frost,the malice in the needles of the wind, the reassuring cold on her brow that soothes her frown-lines that have been hurting for a while, unknown to her.

There will be no sun to sneak a smile out , no warm breeze to make her want to dance, no distracting sounds outside the window.

It will be calm.




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Searching

... For a new song
an old friend
a touch
photographs
a fire
the cold breeze
some sleep
a sunset
a familiar sound
some past memories
and new thrills
a whiff of warmth
and smell of the new

a song..






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Of walking away

Refrains of an old long forgotten song play in the background, in a rare moment of standstill amidst the zillions of those that just whiz past leaving her breathless.

And while she can place the song and what it meant to her long back, its not the same. Its all so clear,memories of the words , the tune and the surge of intense emotions. She hasn't forgotten anything. But this time she's not a part of it. As if looking at the scene standing outside a window.

You can't walk back to what you've walked away from and expect nothing to change.




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Of colours, sanctity and poetry

Once upon a time there were just 2 ways to be - the right way and the way that wouldn't be. Those days all was black and white or maybe even grey , all shades. Nature smiled down and agreed with the human whims and fancies.Humans, after all.

And then one night it rained, washing off the blacks and whites and grey, and faint streaks of colors unheard of before peeped out from underneath. Struggling to be touched and felt. But they were the forbidden colors of their kingdom, hidden by design. As tempting as sin.

Hell did not break lose. Neither did the heavens cry. Nature was the same. Smiling down at human foibles.
Because the colors would fade away, like pain, beautiful things always do. Only a void to be left behind.
And the world would be black , white and grey again.







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