Dear Calvin

Life goes on eh, Calvin?
You have all grown up now,
You have made new friends I see.
I am left here, piling dust. Forgotten.
In all the vanity,
If life ever finds you alone,
I in your quaintness,
for an adventure, await -
your imaginary friend. Forever.

My Monroe

The dying foam was dripping off her, wetting the floor beneath.
She held her unfinished whiskey and picks an old thick book,
and glides across the room to the fireplace - the only light in the room.
The whiskey spilling at her sway, yet gracefully remaining in the glass.
Like a girl plucking a flower, she listens to the crackling sounds of fire,
Opens the book and calmly puts it into the fire. The room suddenly dimmed.
The fire hushed. Its dying cries echoing in her eyes – reflecting.
But slowly a new light soared – beaming warmth into her, as it burnt,
She walks then to the thick brown curtains and pulls them off.
A blinding light rushed in. Ten thousand fireplaces at once! And through
her hair, over her water drop crystalline body, a Sun filled the room.
Like a bud, she opens her eyes, and half smiles. Over the mole side.

  

Nameless

All his strengths would not matter. His wisdom was useless with this enemy.
Amid meadows, scores of people that he loved stood behind him,
he guarding them, like he had in all his life, never looking back.

The wind was blowing into him. He, who was the bravest of them all.
The people he fought for in all years, comrades who owed their lives to him,
were all helpless watching. Not one, not them all together could help.

Hastening his heavy breaths, raising his face, slowly drawing his katana,
He opened his eyes, facing his lone last battle, he stood no chance.
“Oblivion! Here I come!”, he yelled, as he ran towards the setting Sun.

Fireflies

I lay on a bench gazing nowhere, ruminating thoughts.
A calm June night it was – monsoon about time.
Fresh clouds from far away, bringing balms to summer earth.
And Moon, through cloud-en cracks, oozing soothe light.
A zephyr sets in, the leaves in welcome rejoice.
Then I saw, small green blobs, blinking slowly.
Surfing in gusto. Hymning songs of light.
‘Where to you go? Why do you go, little men?’
From loneliness I glide, into solitude.
Vain though it all may be, its a joy being alive,
In contemplating, in participating -
the duteous dance of cosmic tune. Breathe.

- To my best pal, Rohit Ravichandran a.k.a. Multi

Bitter Sweet

The people you think of, at breakfast, in those -
long pauses between sips of your hot coffee.
You are silently smiling to flashes of them.
To a gush of questions, you cozily drift.
‘What if?’, ‘I wonder how?’, ‘But …’
A wise verse asks if it all were for a reason.
You amuse, there are none. Merely lessons.
You only wish you told, what they meant.
You realize you are talking to yourself.
‘Its easy to be lost. Wriggle up ye fella’
The coffee turns cold, and you gulp it all-
Your last sips of sugary cold coffee.

- To, Invisible twin

Blue Skies

A majestic cloud floating,
the calm, lovable, silent her.
Her inward smiles, that outward glow.
With secret dimples, on a fair face
In every blink, that feather down,
so honest, so nice, serene that moment.
In silly hair, and a daily gown
Needing no make-up, beauty is her.
From one end to the other she goes,
She walks not, she glides.

Drunk and Lonely

Are you drunk enough for today?
Red wine is it? Thick and slow.
Do you see them – the jocund?
Are you alone, sipping for nothing?
A sweater in a pouring rain?

In yapping crowds, half eaten plates,
choose a corner, a careful one,
hide as though you were visible.
What yours, so dear, you protect?
Drink now – enough to forget.

The distant loud music is blues.
Like you care, like you know.
Fill it more, your goblet, with wine.
Cheers to you, here’s to your misery.
Sip your wine, sip it slow. Alone.

Walk Away

Everyone you love and care, will walk away one day.
Your family. Your friends. Nothing good or bad, is forever.
They all apparently need to go. Its harsh, but an honest say.
Happy for them you are, you reckon, sad for yourself.

Time, my darling, is not forever, now and here is all we have.
Make now, the best of friends, moments and memories.
Fret not when they leave, or that they will change.
Wish them luck, with warm hugs and buh byes.

Slowly your love shall fade, their memory but, vivid remains.
You too shall hear the knock – the calling of a distant lure.
You too, will walk away. Someday. And remember, when you do,
To have, someone who will miss you, someone to bid goodbye.

Dry Leaves

As I walked past a forest of trees,
I could tell from the rustling of leaves,
A wild wind was gracing their tops,
Like a river rushing it’s banks in careful seams.
Ghostly gusts cutting through twisted branches,
Touching tender leaves in violent duty.
And they, like a fearful child, held firm
By their shoots, the swaying shoots by the trunk,
The trunk embraced, by the mother herself.
Like waves on a shallow beach they sound.
And in the calmness in between – shooting down,
Are dry leaves falling in fame – twisting,
In a slow floating rain from green clouds,
A flower, once a while, would feather down.
On me, they shower – nimble touches
Of mother earth.

Poetic Perversion

Your friends all around are having a good time,
All alone are you, lost in reminiscence of else.
You wish to break away, to be forgotten and lost.
The party is not yours, you are not the occasion.
You just sit around and wonder why.

Welcome to the island of poetic perversion,
Where, you can talk and we’d all listen.
We’d pamper, we’d understand, we’d let you explain -
The war thats raging, and how sorry you are.
You, the hero. You, the villain. You, its martyr.

People are dancing for a happy shameless self.
Women are smiling and there is no one behind.
You could write them a song, and share your laughs,
Or a silent cry, of a conscious heart.
Be the romantic, the poet, the friend, the best.

And then, like every calm night, the poem will end.
The music shall stop. Real so cruel, and cozy few lies.
And these words in your head remind you -
Of an amusing joke, that you are.
Nestling emotions in strange lies.

- To Chaitanya, I, in self doubt. Me, a poet. Myself, lost.