Sunday, October 23, 2016

Melancholic Verses

Burning in the midnight,
the rage ,the sorrow and the fantasy.
Men and women mean nothing to me,
She or He ,I am the child of sea.

Distant dreams and broken hearts,
Roses bleed and sparrows fade.
When mending of our hearts, fail,
On white snow,we sail.

Now without her shadow
me and my words are empty
No love , no curses
only melancholic verses.

Monday, September 5, 2016

Where Souls don't speak

Tell me ,
All about the skies you roamed
All about the birds you met
All about the trees you slept in
Was it worth it ?
Worth it, leaving us all behind?

My heart, overwhelmed and cold
It betrayed me many times,untold
I was roaming alone
Singing songs of melancholic tone..

But was it worth it?

Oh yes!
Here souls don't speak
and no promises, we keep
There, the climb is steep
But Freedom
Freedom is always worth the leap.

Friday, July 1, 2016

Melancholy princess

Her fiery eyes staring back at me.
Her shimmering lips calling to me.
My longing, my unquenched thirst
Yearning of her in lust
Heavens watch her unyielding stance
In joy and pride, the princess dance.

Friday, June 3, 2016

To Choke an Eagle

All eagles told her
in love,in anger
even in despair
"All eagles are meant to fly,
for we are the rulers of sky.
The grounds are realms.
of ignorant mortal men."

Under the gaze of disappointment
of her parents,teachers and siblings
she replied,
"Father,mother and rest,
I know flying is what we do best
But wings mean nothing to me
for hollow skies is all i see.
Ground is where i roam
for now it is my home."

"Let me walk, let me go"
she said countless times.
Her tender heart,
overburdened and broken,
wept in words unspoken.
Her Majestic Wings,
resting on ground,
Her soul earth bound.

"You disgust us, you are a disgrace"
as she saw her father and her mother
join the crowd in chanting
Her claws pierced her chest,
putting her heart to rest.
She lay on her home, blood soaked
An eagle,choked.

Monday, May 30, 2016


I have life talk to me,
The misery it dawns upon me.
My words are filled,
with sorrows for her to see.

Life in all its pride
listens to my disjoint questioning.
My thirst, my unending love
and my dissent quibbling.

I am but a meager soul
Disillusioned by her cruel child,
souls only more evil than me.
They left me alone in the wild.

Life smiles to my childish rumbling
My heart wiser than my words
wounded yet unbent
Cries like a caged bird.

Life has an answer 
to my broken pride,
to my despair ,
to my wandering stride

She points to my heart
and says to me, 
" Fear not child,
for you heart still beats."


God, Devil
couldn't do us part.
The Angels. the Demons
tried, become one with dust.
The brightest day, the blackest night
meant nothing in our home.
The kindest heart, The cruelest souls
left us alone.
You, me
standing lone in the woods.
Death did us part
only if it could.

Friday, May 20, 2016

The Blue Butterfly

Tell me do you remember the blue butterfly
of stars unknown and unyielding pride?
Tell me do you remember her plight?
on a day like this she cried.

The wings now rest on ground.
After all her battles,
cold, calm and shaken.
Fallen but not lost ,her rage rattles.

It was here on this muddy swamp,
she lay shimmering to cold.
Her grievance lost to me in her light
As I watched her elegance unfold.

The blue butterfly ,
brought herself closer to me.
she whispered in languages unknown,
Then she flew to the white tree.

Tears fall on flowers,
filled with dancing butterflies.
Green, red, yellow but blue.

Saturday, April 16, 2016

Rusting Railroad

The long walk on a dusky afternoon
filled with gleaming light,
yet not enough to anguish the darkness
As our protagonist dispels into the night.

Do not misjudge him,
for he is not the hero of this story
Do not pity him,  
for angels sing in his glory.

Let me remind you, not so long ago
Our protagonist made it to the daily news
Irony of life that no one could identify 
he remained silent amid all our excuse.

Then again, no one is to blame
for we mourn when heroes die
Yet his smile is all that lingers
as time passes by.

The rusting railroad is all that is left
Quenched in blood and now in rust
He sits there longing and waiting
silently screaming of his unquenched lust.

Friday, March 25, 2016

The Cruel Mermaids

Mermaids are calling to me.
They tempt me with the unyielding freedom
Freedom to roam the seven seas
and of all the things I lost.
They tell me to let it go,
For the oceans are filled with wonders
Wonders unseen and unknown.
They are calling to me
to let it all go,
Mermaids are calling to me.

The anchors withdrawn
The boat sails with the winds.
Of all the seas I have been,
This journey, seems like never before.
The mermaids guide me to abyss
Heaven and hell mean nothing to me
When freedom is all i need.
The calling to my heart
Their songs mean everything to me
The mermaids are calling to me

The lands have been cruel to me.
They told me I was the white tree amidst all green trees.
Even the birds passed by me
but for a golden sparrow
that came on me.
We talked and talked
And she told me of the seven seas
It looks like the work of God himself
Of all the hearts that beat to be free
they come to meet and everything turns glee
The mermaids are calling to us
The mermaids are calling to me.

I write of freedom to be free.
It is the traveler's spirit that calls out to me
It is the world that shuns me
For the path is my home
the mermaids my guide
There are infinite horizons
as far as we can see
The infinite stars is where I want to be
Yet The cruel mermaids are calling out to me.

Wedding Ring

The Angels envy your eyes
and your smile makes the sparrow sing.
Your tears are God's own
and your lips , His spring.
A gentle fire on a cold December night,
The warmth, your soul brings.
Angels came and took you away.
Longing, my tears fall on your wedding ring.

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

The perfect cocktail

I will be honest, I am not sure who I am. I thought I knew who I was. It was just the society version of me. The version of me that everyone accepts, the version of me that makes me a normal guy. But this inner voice never dies down it keeps on calling to me , it keeps on wishing out of me that i should probably be my fucking self for one time.
The traveller's spirit is what possess me right now , it wants to be free from boundations, the heart of travellers wishes for freedom, companionship, love and above all it wants to let go. It has been talking to me a lot recently, I think I want to be possessed by it. Maybe its just the side of me that has been regressed most of the time but it fells free, life feels a lot happier.
Maybe this time will be all stories someday, maybe we will never know how will it end, but the moments ,I thought were dying for previously, are nothing compared to the moments that the traveller spirit tells me about all the time. It just keeps out calling to me all the time. Its like a sailor being attracted to a mermaid, I think it is never the attraction, it is the longing. The longing of his real destination that make him brave the mighty waters all the time.
We are travellers and our hearts do not really settle. We stand up to the world , we are the brave warriors of the seven mighty seas, We are the hearts that make the world worth living for, We are the minds that see things as it is , We understand, We feel, We make friends and then we just let it go, We are the brave warriors of the seas after all and the journey , the path, has always been our only home.

Monday, February 8, 2016

The answer is life

Tell me ,

Why do the black clouds pour,
while the white ones just pass away?
Why some people stay,
while others just fade away ?
Why are the dreams calling to me
like mermaids to a pirate?
What chance can I possibly have
in this polluted uncertain climate?
What longing is this , that equals
a arid land's thirst for rain?
Where does this calm comes from,
when inside lies so much pain ?

The answer, my friend

Neither Gods nor the demons know,
One has always reap what he sow.
Life is unfair to some
but it is uncertain to all.
For no one knows what may come.
The answer lies in your heart
The answer lies in each of its beat
And below all the sacrifices and strife 
The answer is life.

Saturday, February 6, 2016

The Listeners by Walter De la Mare

We had this poem in our 10th grade and this was one of the first poems that really resonated with me, I was fascinated, amused and completely engrossed in its magic. Funny thing is I remember a particular incident of me going to this really studious mean guy, who used to bully peasants like me in school, to discuss this particular poem. ( I do not really remember the bullying part so if you are reading this and remember me and this moment, pardon me for the sake of a good element in the story)
He was basically the guy that was the best in the subject, according to the marks that is. So I walk straight to him and I start this conversation by asking how did he like the poem mentioned above and he gives me a straight face and says its fine pretty elementary and ordinary. I was obviously offended by this remark.Then I tired to put up an argument that the poem has symbolic meanings and interpretations to life and death,yes the poem has a simple enough narrative but the idea is very intriguing. I was hoping he acknowledge his defeat. The reply that he gave to me had a lasting impact on me and made me see beyond marks and curriculum.
He, in his wicked grin, told me that I am not intellectual enough to understand the interpretations and that he does not care about it, All that was unnecessary for exams and I am a stupid asshole whose wasting time thinking about the interpretations.
I wish instead of being stumped and speechless at that moment, I should have thanked him.
Here is the amazing poem that motivated me to write poetry myself.

The Listeners

‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,
   Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
   Of the forest’s ferny floor:
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
   Above the Traveller’s head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
   ‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
   No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
   Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
   That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
   To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
   That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
   By the lonely Traveller’s call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
   Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
   ’Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
   Louder, and lifted his head:—
‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,
   That I kept my word,’ he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
   Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
   From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
   And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
   When the plunging hoofs were gone.

Source: The Collected Poems of Walter de la Mare (1979)