I think about my dreams.
Some coloured faces beneath the sheet…
There’s no place to escape,
Once you are inside….
I freeze, I melt, I run, I hide
The doors never unlock for me
There’s no place u can escape to
Once you are in your dreams
But then often I see the light,
The smile of a child, the smell of the ocean…
And I wake up at a distance.
Am I still there?
And I walk down that same road,
Where I once went searching for you,
Or a certainty.
I had escaped from me into another trap,
It clears as morning comes..
The mist rises into my eyes.
Which was real?
And oblivion waits for me.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Before the day slips off the clock,
My soul leaves me in my space...
Sitting alone, staring at the sun, melting down my window pane.
In smiles so scanty, and yet teasing…
I know it goes away, sometimes for days
I do not dare go with her
Through paths crossed and paths shunned
I come back empty handed.
As always,
Failing to slake her choice of freedom.
Its better, this way then,
Let her come back one day
Through the reasonless blinds of the skies..
We are all alone,
With our pride and hope,
A few lost souls we that we cling on to
And we share the world with sleepless dreams
Though we slip and fall, through each other,
The abyss waits, in silence
My soul leaves me in my space...
Sitting alone, staring at the sun, melting down my window pane.
In smiles so scanty, and yet teasing…
I know it goes away, sometimes for days
I do not dare go with her
Through paths crossed and paths shunned
I come back empty handed.
As always,
Failing to slake her choice of freedom.
Its better, this way then,
Let her come back one day
Through the reasonless blinds of the skies..
We are all alone,
With our pride and hope,
A few lost souls we that we cling on to
And we share the world with sleepless dreams
Though we slip and fall, through each other,
The abyss waits, in silence
Tuesday, December 11, 2007

II won’t write about you.
It may be winter again, unsettled still
…A long way before she finally gives her prounciamento.
But this time I won’t write about you.
I am searching for a panacea..
I am sure I can find one…
As I walk the varicoloured streets
Spray painted stories,
yet formless, on broken walls.
There is still a life..
There are still smiles…
Levity, chords, and a few known songs.
They slowly land at my doorstep..
With the morning papers..
I read, and yet wait for the
End to my favourite story.
It may be winter again, unsettled still
…A long way before she finally gives her prounciamento.
But this time I won’t write about you.
I am searching for a panacea..
I am sure I can find one…
As I walk the varicoloured streets
Spray painted stories,
yet formless, on broken walls.
There is still a life..
There are still smiles…
Levity, chords, and a few known songs.
They slowly land at my doorstep..
With the morning papers..
I read, and yet wait for the
End to my favourite story.
Friday, August 31, 2007
spaces i own

I love the nameless streets left on their own…
Those corners with strange angles jutting out of nowhere...
Unfitting my sense of mathematics.
They always let me be the main character, away from the blare, where legion of lost souls collide with each other…
Here sometimes the ignorance of the municipality is bliss. For once, civilization can wait….!!!
the lamp posts flicker and go out..
There are cars parked in the dark, small balconies with clothes hanging in the line, and one can for once, ignore the ordinariness of it!
And somewhere here, I remember a lost friend.
A page from my favourite book...
Or the words of a song befitting…
Here, perhaps, you can get time for yourself. Here, perhaps, the others can wait.
And here, undeniably I can see myself. All that is mist or all that is trenchant!!
I know now, a thousand nights ago, I had dreams.I know now, after thousand such nights , I still have dreams…..
For here is where they take shapes. Die. Live. Fly.
Who will reckon them?
Who will make them alive..
Darkness, she often gives me light.
Those corners with strange angles jutting out of nowhere...
Unfitting my sense of mathematics.
They always let me be the main character, away from the blare, where legion of lost souls collide with each other…
Here sometimes the ignorance of the municipality is bliss. For once, civilization can wait….!!!
the lamp posts flicker and go out..
There are cars parked in the dark, small balconies with clothes hanging in the line, and one can for once, ignore the ordinariness of it!
And somewhere here, I remember a lost friend.
A page from my favourite book...
Or the words of a song befitting…
Here, perhaps, you can get time for yourself. Here, perhaps, the others can wait.
And here, undeniably I can see myself. All that is mist or all that is trenchant!!
I know now, a thousand nights ago, I had dreams.I know now, after thousand such nights , I still have dreams…..
For here is where they take shapes. Die. Live. Fly.
Who will reckon them?
Who will make them alive..
Darkness, she often gives me light.
Monday, July 9, 2007

THE VITAL PAUSE……………….
There's an easy way of closing the hours
Without care for the incurved lines
It has become strangely forgetful,
Time worn maybe.
A victim of our whims .And undesired suppressions.
It often charmed unreason
And thrilled in small abundance
But alas! Its forlorn now
Quite convoluted, it sighs.
Maybe lost in the labyrinth ofThe yellowed leaves….....
It says we don't have time!!!!
To smear our palms in paint
Often in the colour of the setting sun…..
Or dance without enough room
But enough space for grace
Watch the slow autumn come and go
and still not know when the days condensed…
Or search between the pages
For the dried flowers hidden Or crushed beyond reason.…
A testimony to our wings
Once spread far away..
To all these
And many more moments
Hidden in the cracks of Our half said stories…
Why do we need an author's clarity?
When simplicity, secretly pines for attention.?
For our climax,
And that happy ending,
Often abrupt or well thought,
We just need to pause!!
There's an easy way of closing the hours
Without care for the incurved lines
It has become strangely forgetful,
Time worn maybe.
A victim of our whims .And undesired suppressions.
It often charmed unreason
And thrilled in small abundance
But alas! Its forlorn now
Quite convoluted, it sighs.
Maybe lost in the labyrinth ofThe yellowed leaves….....
It says we don't have time!!!!
To smear our palms in paint
Often in the colour of the setting sun…..
Or dance without enough room
But enough space for grace
Watch the slow autumn come and go
and still not know when the days condensed…
Or search between the pages
For the dried flowers hidden Or crushed beyond reason.…
A testimony to our wings
Once spread far away..
To all these
And many more moments
Hidden in the cracks of Our half said stories…
Why do we need an author's clarity?
When simplicity, secretly pines for attention.?
For our climax,
And that happy ending,
Often abrupt or well thought,
We just need to pause!!
Friday, July 6, 2007


It unwrapped that big apple tree
And just ahead that friendless seat…
Still staring at the distant sea!!
But did I tell you time has passed
Like slow steady winds of change,
Yellowed leaves liked memoirs of time
Sighs around that forlorn bench.
I saw the lashing waves again…
Echoes still, but with different tales
Do you know where stories go….
Like sparkles on the shining sails!!
‘You can never hide’ you told me oft,
And I believed you and dried my tears…
But when I slowly went my way…
You just let me disappear.
And now the lonely apple tree
still paints my ground deep red
Fades soon through the dust by dusk
And brings back the words unsaid.
I didn't tell you ever, did I?
That this lane still had another way,
When you leave that bend of yours..
And walk a mile or so away….
You never liked the dark in there,
Scared of shadows, you often said,
But sometimes I had entered deep…
And saw that dimness often fades.
And today that same other bend
Still calls me from the sea and skies
But now both the bends merge
With tacit words and hidden lies…
But the path still wants footprints on sand
And the bends of past still show our sky
I don't know how my world seems sad
We both have gone, and I wonder why!!!!!
The smell of coffee beans….and a verse of gauche words….I am drinking to my memoirs, with every gust that throws open the window.
And Since then it hasn’t stopped raining.
Poems don’t rhyme again. But the rain still has her rhythm. Even as she changes shape and takes sides, new patterns are born.. I stare at the colours , paste them in my scrap book. It has long been submerged in black and white.
Legends are forgotten. They travel far through the moon bathed roads. Lost in the darkness of our closed books through time..
And still it hasn’t stopped raining.
I close ‘The hungry Tide’ and stop the unchained Melodies. Because the rain splashes over them. I cannot get inside other people’s stories now.
I can make mine.
and I will try
and outside, my muse still soak my city in dreams.
And Since then it hasn’t stopped raining.
Poems don’t rhyme again. But the rain still has her rhythm. Even as she changes shape and takes sides, new patterns are born.. I stare at the colours , paste them in my scrap book. It has long been submerged in black and white.
Legends are forgotten. They travel far through the moon bathed roads. Lost in the darkness of our closed books through time..
And still it hasn’t stopped raining.
I close ‘The hungry Tide’ and stop the unchained Melodies. Because the rain splashes over them. I cannot get inside other people’s stories now.
I can make mine.
and I will try
and outside, my muse still soak my city in dreams.
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