Paved a dreary path through the waking,
a solemn passage in time.
Severed tears to quell the aching,
rather poor funeral crime.

In a world as cruel as her fate,
she lay draped in white so pure.
She had said that it’s never too late,
Now I stand beside her unsure.

The warm smells of laddoos and incense,
still drift across her bright room.
She surrendered to a steep descent.
while I sunk in a selfish gloom.

I dredged the dry riverbed of thoughts,
to recall our vivid days.
Braided streams of old memories’ knots
twisted in an endless maze.

A fiery beast climbs upon the sky,
threatening to scorch again,
The glorious era’s end will lie,
with the ashes of her reign.



To The Neighbour Who Plays Metal At Night

Meet my neighbour- Aspiring,
he claims that he’s an upcoming star.
Sometimes he shreds the metal strings,
sometimes he likes to play the base guitar.
I hear his pals beat the drums at night,
by 3 am he’s done with the drunken show.
We took the siege to the doors of death metal,
when last night’s grogginess turned into furious brow.
Our bangs and screeching never woke him up,
the man-child’s used to the usual symphony.
Only if the use of animal tranquillizers was legal,
his window would be an ideal target practice exigency.


The Blooms of the Day

She heaved her basket of luck,
the small one to be sold.
The rolled bundles of cut flowers,
tomorrow would be old.
She waited for her only hope,
she waited in the cold.
Now, they had all that she did not,
much more than they could hold.
She trailed the heels of the tourists,
she badgered the employed.
Some bought flowers for their beauty,
some grace for the destroyed,
some bought flowers for their love,
some for those to avoid.
They saw the basket and petals,
but not her in the void.
She had a name that no one called,
she was seen then unseen,
The flowers were cherished till bloom,
while she had never been.
She took comfort in tomorrow
which she had never seen.
In a midst of the torn tempest,
a fragile figurine.


She sang Turtles All the Way Down

The Earth…“, he said with pride,
is suspended in space
filled with matter we can’t see.
I bring to you the Future

But it is the turtle!
The grand old turtle!
Who never let us down once“,
she knew the Past and Future.

Pray tell me old woman“,
he drew the sword of wit,
If this turtle bears the world,
on what does this grand being stand?”

Her answer was ready
for the cynical man.
For those who think they are wise.
Who own the absolute truth.

The turtle stands grandly on
the grander turtles all the way down!”



The End

“Where were you?”, he asked,
his eyes moist with pain,
“I sought you”, he cried,
tears merging with the rain.

His skin was numb,
his shoulders slack,
abandoned all hope, he did,
clung to hope again.

He waited for an answer,
with mounting frustration,
it couldn’t end like this,
he had worked to mend his ways.

“Now it’s too late”, he sighed,
as his worries washed off,
“At least I tried”, he murmured,
his last words left his mouth.

He collapsed on the road,
under a fluorescent light,
he was a good man,
he didn’t deserve the end.

“At least he tried”, they cried,
At least he tried.


Discovered it today. Written four years ago.

Three Heroes

The Bringer of Death, woe begone!
the Master Grim must die,
he ruled from his throne in the East,
a place hard to come by.
The remarkable village swore,
that the Valley is theirs,
they blessed three youths a mighty quest,
to trounce who no one dares.
Thence came Winter with icy spears,
and bequeathed the land,
to frost, sleet and snow, to devour,
their barren final stand.
What would destroy the immortal?
perplexed, they asked their own,
an axe or arrow or poison,
tragedy of unknown.
They arrived at the Gates of Hell,
with devious plan in mind,
only Death could take him indeed,
he wasn’t hard to find.
Death dwelled in the palace wearing,
invisible shackles,
he appeared before the three youths,
with his birds of grackles.
Death would take the Master away,
if they melted his chains,
a feat accomplished by their souls,
only the pure remains.
They could vanquish the dark ruler,
Now were their souls worthy?
they released Death from his restraints,
Now were they unworthy?
The Valley of the East was theirs,
See merry joy abound,
three stars of brave celebrated,
only heroes around.