you and I
lay a river
of unsaid


Songs Of The Meadow

‘Will you love me forever?’
Her tender eyes questioned.

‘You are a shore to my hasty waves,
a stroke among a many on my canvas,
a sweet bloom in my chaotic garden.
Forever is what I cannot promise.
The moment is my only gift for you.’
Replied his faltering gaze.

In him once, she found,
The oasis for her deserted life.
Lyrics for her empty songs.
Wings for her flightless dreams.
Guiding star for her verge of unmapped.

Under the canopy of generous shade,
She sat with emptiness by her side.
A wistful stare.
A broken yearn within.
Ears starving for those songs.
And all she could hear,
Was the agony of cacophonous silence.

She Bloomed In My Garden

Her fathomless dark eyes,
Like the stretch of the night,
Gazes at me, and I lingered,
In pensive,
In my woven memories.

A flower came to my vacant shade.
In reticent, she reached out to me.
With intrigue, I watch her everyday.

My words became crippled,
By her impalpable grace,
Her sighing limbs,
Speaks to my soul,
In scintillating sonata,
With a dialect of its own,
Challenging my timid heart,
Creating a tumultuous wave,
A want to break on her shore.

This flower, perfecting herself,
Bloomed in my garden.

And I Wander

A desolate street is my mind,
In mocking confinement I walk.

In the mirth of flowers.
In the mischief of light breeze.
In the curtsy of the meadow grass,
At the arrival of the wind.
In the harmonious notes,
Of the frolicking ripples.
In the liberated glistening pearls,
Of the rumbling clouds.

Your overwhelming presence,
A tormenting shiver down my spine.
Yet my path is desolated.

Glimpses of seeing and unseeing,
Struck the chords of my heart,
Giving birth to myriad aches.

Have mercy on my timorous heart.
With fervid steps I carry on,
Perfumed by faraway memories,
I wander, not knowing where I go.

Keeper Of Secrets

Falling ripples in attire of different hues,
Roaming over, devouring everything.
Seeing, hearing, yet ignores.
Through the spreading of old cracks,
Muses of oil lamp merge with lulls,
Dispiriting the orchestra of crickets.
Soothing her precious children to slumber,
A mother retires, mirroring their sweet smile.
Shadow of a serpent manifests then,
Like a lurching storm, it strikes,
A shriek thunders,
As if to split the earth’s bosom.
Down the street in oblivion,
An old man trotters in hidden layers,
Rejected, abandoned, forgotten,
Seeking a dwelling from piercing cold.
Ahead in the comfort of eiderdown,
A temptress hunting her prey.
Magnifying the spark, building an inferno,
Behind the closed blinds.
The world, under siege,
From the never ending darkness,
Craving to plot, collecting deeds.