Scribblings

Blue Skies

C H Chaitanya — Wed, 24 Aug 2011 09:37:37 +0000

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

C H Chaitanya — Wed, 24 Aug 2011 08:52:50 +0000

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

C H Chaitanya — Wed, 29 Jun 2011 10:24:36 +0000

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

C H Chaitanya — Tue, 12 Apr 2011 08:22:32 +0000

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

C H Chaitanya — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 04:59:06 +0000

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.

Invest carefully

C H Chaitanya — Mon, 07 Feb 2011 16:59:19 +0000

Beauty is a tricky thing.
The slim, get plum. And fat, fatter.
Face will bloat, a chin may pop.
What can we trust?
Hair would whiten, loose may some.
Ripple may brow, unsaid this vow.
The skin will wrinkle, tooth could topple.
A belly might sprout. A thicket may wild.
Spine would vine, forever may whine.
What in a person would you bank on?
Let me suggest my friend…
Try eyes. They lie not beauty.

- Inspired by works of Ogden Nash.

Hear

C H Chaitanya — Tue, 01 Feb 2011 14:19:09 +0000

Creaking door. Sizzling beach shore.
Dry leaves rustling. Birds chirping.
Distant church bells. Buzz of a city dwell.
Country cricket. Croaks in thicket.
Duteous trains. Pitter-patter rains.
Wind creeps. Snore sleeps.
Tingling waters. Kuch-kuch barbers.
Rustic radio. Mountain echo.
Laughing kids. Cooker lids.
Finger snaps. Group yaps.
An applause and a hello.

- Inspired by works of Ogden Nash.
Semi done.

Laila

C H Chaitanya — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 14:34:43 +0000

Her mystic grace,
A tranquil embrace.
Her twinkling dress,
A dark sacred bless.
Peeping teasing smiles.
Satin cast shadows.
Slowly she moves.
Gorgeous. Reverend.
The coldness she brings,
For warmth of a fireplace.
And every man, in quaintness
For her, awaits.
A graceful queen.
A mysterious night.

Arrogance

C H Chaitanya — Thu, 04 Nov 2010 10:49:30 +0000

The blueness stretched far,
Endless far, till the eye could see.
Roaring like a leash en lion
Were waves luring to brave.
Clenching for the man’s feat.
And to its mystic love calls,
Into plummeting walls he ran.
Crashing into him were surfs.
Gushing off his breath.
Daunted, dazed and dead.

Kindled was wrath to conquer.
He built dinghies and canoes,
That sailed awhile, making the
Crew men damned in sweat.
Brackish-ed not was his pride.
He built ships, with masts and sails.
In violent storms they weathered.
Toughened with a steel en heart,
Steering rudders and engine parts.
Propelling away fears, he set sail.

The helmsman teetered gentle slow,
A long forever grueling go.
And so, one day, reached he ashore.
For those who sweat and bled,
Their untold souls – now free set.
In a gallant glory, he strode.
And through his toes skimmed -
The cold moonlit beach sands,
The silken manes of the golden beast,
Of the sea that he tamed.

His lustful arrogance.

Choices

C H Chaitanya — Fri, 15 Oct 2010 09:03:17 +0000

The long barrel of time is
Aiming you – what do you do?
You are back to being there -
The all familiar nowhere.
Revisiting doubts that healed.
Where you need to go – unknown.

Secure vastness of forever lands,
Or cold steeps of mountain sides?
Painful pursuit for peace.
Brave alone you shall go -
In search for joy -
The joy that sets you free.