The Toll of Time

Of all the things that I left behind
of all the memories I chose to forget
the days that seemed to flow so smooth
the things I thought I'll never regret

The love that oozed from arms of yours
the voice that soothed me down to nerves
the pearls that gleamed from your eyes
the spell you cast with your curves

and how I thought there would always be
a hand to hold me when I fell
some hugs before leaving for the day
some roses when I did not feel well

But much as such to my aching heart,
time has had its toll the hard way
breaking apart the things that made me
and leaving me helpless forever to stay.

The Process of Writing

(This poem meditates on the journey of the creation of a poetic piece of literary work. It brings out the efforts made by a poet for the creative work.)

Miles are traveled, miles are crossed
and eyes never lose to the feet they guide
Names are given and ideas borrowed
and ideas form an emotional mudslide.

Tremors are felt, and winds embraced
seas are crossed in breathless leaps
Skies are searched for the stars they hide
and airs are studied in countless keeps

The worlds are matched with universe of mind
and moods of the heart are given a voice
and the subtle melodies oozing out provide
the truth : the poet's only real choice.

These Lights that Blind

(these lines contain the doubt that has been an integral part of my life)

this bubble nature of my mind
sometimes dim, sometimes dimmer,
like storms raising within myself
without an end, without a winner.

I see my face in every stone
but never have I picked one up
too many lives to choose one from
too few desires to live one enough.

My light shines up no place it falls
so much air that I gasp to breathe
a fish which lives in a sea so full
that it got buried in its own sheath.

The Lamb of My Mind

(this poem is just a mouth for the fluctuations of my mental determination. The winds of anything have the power to move my strongest self)

Sometimes fierce for no cause
another fearing all they say
no fixed veins that run my blood
I'm the lost lights of a bygone day

These pots of clay that melt too often
grasses, grasses but no trees
like aimless stars that shine the sky
that dead life that moves with the breeze

this envelope with its address none
a pen that has a thousand writers
my stairs that have no destiny of own
I play my part in both the fighters

ideas outgrown by seeds of doubt
colors that washed away in rain
and this light that pierces me through
leaves my mind no joy, no pain

BURDEN OF THE BREAST

This is the story of an ill-treated Indian girl who altogether forms a different definition of life. Read through the lines to feel the agony embedded in her nerves, just to make yourself realize how lucky you are...


Born with curses and dislike,
For first time I opened my eyes,
Thrown in pits and picked up later,
I was born as hell-creator

Times grew up but nothing changed,
Joy was random, sorrow arranged,
Childhood went in wiping tears,
Marriage came within some years

And before I could myself realize,
If at all I had a dream in eyes,
A man as double of my age,
Married me and took to cage,

Cooking, sweeping all the day,
Beaten, weeping need not say
the man who licked people for bread,
How he acted a lion in the bed!

And when the months counted nine,
I thought something would be mine,
My child would surely live my dreams,
But all that i have in life just seems

Is joy has hidden somewhere,
and laughs coz i cant get there,
For god, I was never someone
So he gave me a girl, not a son

To live what I call as death
To work without taking a breath
To live for all social tests
To bear burden of the breasts.