Thursday, September 11, 2014

Sailing Unto the Storm

The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.
Vincent van Gogh

Sea may spew some poison
For me to shock and halt
Waves may play some tricks
Break me young and clear all
But, a storm’s rising within me
Look, I see a storm in the sea
I’m sailing unto the storm
Beware you Storm

Hear me roar feel my howls
Spunk in me knows no bounds
Shout loud you Waves
Roar as much as you can
Sweet, embrace me hard
Delve, go deep in my heart
For miles and miles I’ll cruise
Forever I’ll cruise

So what if endless are your shores?
I’ll keep rowing in this little boat
To meet you face to face
You’re fierce I’ll be fiercer
Stay put, don’t you dare run
Please, let me have some fun
For I’ll lay adrift as long as it takes
As far as it takes
Oceanus you are so mighty and strong
I’m not going back on our engagement
Till my heart roars and beats
No bowing down on your feet
Your might makes me stronger
Every day I sail a little longer
For I’m sailing unto the storm
Beware you Storm.

Sunday, September 7, 2014

For In Time To Remind

I always walk
on the broken step, the
others all avoid it,
I walk on it
to remember.

~Barney F. McClelland

Forgetfulness is an easy choice. Some memories are best forgotten. Buried deep down they are safe and far from bothering me again. Yet I cling on to some not because I want to savour or treasure them but for a careful remembrance. Each time I face it there’s comfort in knowing that I won’t be doing that same thing again. Why do I do that even when I know that it chips off a part of me? I’m not eccentric and am not insane either yet some blunders or mishaps are worth retaining. It doesn’t hamper my present activities, never deviates or confuses me or dulls my senses but it does add a hint of forbearance and savoir-faire

Letters you gave me I kept
Tore them apart in my eyes
No longer have they smelt sweet
Reeked of rot and lost trust
Forget I must
Never saw them again
Not with these eyes, but
Sometimes I recall all those lines
Which you wrote me in my primes
In scribbled gibberish
I could hear your rummy voice
They were destined to be ashes
Forgotten inks, pages in stasis
I kept those forgotten pages
For half-remembrances
For in time to remind.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

When it pours at night

Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried, than before--more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle. 
Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

When it pours at night
Heavy, but there isn't light
No Sun to make me see
All I hear are sounds
Drops dropping, dripping
Sogginess is all I smell
Can feel the wetness abound
But, there isn't a light
Moon isn't there
How can I see?
Amidst this noise I lie awake
There’s dissonance within me
It flirts; it rattles paces and settles
It has a voice, it crawls passively
But there isn't a light
No one’s there
To make me see
And then there’s pouring
Not from the skies
and I sleep in the warmth
just glad that it poured tonight.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

Be Like Water

You must be shapeless, formless, like water. When you pour water in a cup, it becomes the cup. When you pour water in a bottle, it becomes the bottle. When you pour water in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Water can drip and it can crash. Become like water my friend.
 Bruce Lee

When water gushes 
nothing halts it, not even walls 
passes through pores
rises upside, changes form
never it stops
wish to flow like water
and never do any harm 
short life is
Why bother ?
Why stop at all

Monday, May 26, 2014

World Is Too Full To Talk About, Is It ?

Never miss a good chance to shut up. Too much babbling can mess with our gray matter. On the other hand silence is a silent killer, a sweet poison. Leave a thing unsaid and there’s a hole in someone’s heart which will last for eternity. It’s the silence against sheer injustice that makes it more painful than it already is. Profuseness of words around us helps us to forget things that are once said but, when there’s lack of it. Who knows?
As happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment.
 John Steinbeck, Of Mice and Men

I sat here
You sat there
None of us moved
But distance furthered

I asked nothing
You said nothing
We talked for hours
But minds were locked

I waited for you to tell
You waited for me to ask
None of us said the word
Like that generations passed

I’m guilty of not asking
Your guilt was not to tell
Ohh, it eats us all the same
Wondering who’s to blame

I had a way with words
You were a talker too
But we chose quite
Over being vocalized

Words are powerful people often say
We live and survive every single day
Sometimes we shower words
When silence could have sufficed
Sometimes all we need is words
But we think our silence is justified. 


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