Buried in the tears cried only in the heart

Buried in the tears cried only in the heart
I have felt the overlaps of constraints:
Of failed relationships you hold on to; 
Not allowing even the voices  to touch
Your stature of freshness born of that morning sun
Which comes over your terrace 
To reflect your being.

Tell Me the Meaning

Did you say that poems have meaning?
Oh! My God!

You said the greatest truth on earth
Really
Believe me.

But do tell me
The meaning you have found.

I have never found one!

Walking on the glint of a theoretical life
Spreading wings, very slowly
Sometimes, the wind catches me
And I fly.

Sometimes,
I fall
Straight from the branch
To the floor
Full of mud and stones

To rise up again
To fall again

Or who knows
To fly.

My Heart Didn't Light Up

That light which fills you from inside
Did not sparkle this tide
Made small leaps
And, subsided by the side

I waited for it to inundate me                    
To wet me
To enclose me

It did not

I was left unblessed on the shore
Thirsty, for more, for more  

I could see the glaze in her eyes
She could easily understand the vice

How come you have this

Was her expression without amiss

I sat looking at myself in pain
She did not come in vain

Her fatal look took me by surprise
I was there for the rise

Of emotions welling up inside
Heating up by the side

She touched me to know
I could only worship her now

Touch me again, said my heart
Heal me by your part.

Love You

I couldn't understand you.

A life spent as
A child, a teenager, a sweet sixteen, a young lady
As a wife
As a mother
And now old.

Ma, I was unaware,
As a child you must  have been scolded as any other
In teen age,as a young lady
You must have been wooed,
Sometimes teased, sometimes harassed
Physically, mentally, emotionally.


I was unaware,
Marriage was not a bed of roses for you.
Neither raising children.

I live because of your pain ma.

Thanks ma!
Love you!

Flight and Nest

The birds

With white wings and 

Black beaks

Have shown me 

The way.

Flying high in the sky

And soaring above the 

Humiliating towers

Passing, 

Each hurdle.

They say :

O the flying humans 

Rotating and revolving;

Do not try to fly.

When I come to my nest

I see the flying birds

My head up,

And the neck aches.

Painful it is 

To track 

Any motion.

You may fly

But do not think of flying.

Fly, 

Wings open

In reality.

And when you come home 

Look

Trees as trees 

And the moon as the moon.

Homes are for rest

Not to fly.

Freedom from the Roots of a Tired God

Tired, tired, tired
Oh! The master,
Thou art tired.

Of the roots,
Or the shoots,
Or of the fruits?

How come, I know of
Your intentions,
Please;
Free me,
From thou roots.

I Don't Know

I don't know.
Simply.
I don't know.

Why should I feel so fearful
While erasing a sign on the wall .

Maybe,
One cannot erase without
Making a sign
Again.

The Wall and the Grill

Good, 

It has been good

The going has been good.

It has been healing:

Time heals.

When the walls came forward to stop

The grilling started.

Friction.

Heat.

Dust.

Crack.

Blunt.

Pierce.

Entangled.

But, we fought to disentangle.

So when I try to come out of the piercing,

From you, the wall,

I have to pierce my own self,

Backwards.

It is not a shield that contains the grill,

It is a protective measure.

Once out,

The memory remains

With:

The cracks and blunts.

Convention

Whenever the lights have turned to darkness
The tears have rolled in the never ending nights,
The sobs, the spit, the moan
All suppressed
To uphold a convention.

It never changes
Never transforms
Only 'inspires'
And repeats.

The answer itself
Becomes the abuse.

I Told the Sky Not to Cry

For all the rain drops fallen on my floor
I could only remember my tears.


They were the same:
Drop like,
Which came together to form never ending streams .

I told the sky not to cry.
It did not listen.

And when I told people about the sad sky,
They laughed.
They talked of monetary gains and granaries.

Poor sky!
And the irony of having clouds as friends.

The Forgotten Taj Mahal

The Taj Mahal will be forgotten one day
And its 'shehzadi' will really die

By the side of the dry river
It will be remembered as the forgotten token of love

Give the monument my name then

Here too
No one comes
And everyone forgets
The love, I am
Symbol of.

I See Someone Smiling In The Background

The deadlines you have fixed
Have shattered  all my dreams.

I worked by the inspiration of your breath,
Now that we don't meet
I cannot smell your presence.

Why does your stolen photograph
Always remind me of myself
And not you.

Your life which I have tried to share
Is too protected by your relations.
I always see someone smiling in the background .

Your Concern

The love you show makes us what we are


In this never ending maze of relationships

It keeps the flame alive

Keeps us going

To the extent of that endless sky

Where the sea meets the sky

But we seperate.

Your Photograph at Two o' clock

At two 'o clock in the night nothing seems all right
The eyes are dreaming
And the unfulfilled unfathomable waters of wants
Strike the images to shards.

No one comes
And every one goes
The dreams play in a reverse order.

I have a photograph of yours
You look very fine in it
But I have stolen it from somewhere .

I see it sometimes.

The hushed realities of your eyes
Keeps my flame alive
You infect people
Your enthusiasm infects.