A Sacred Oath

Words die on quivering lips
As I hold on to a broken wish
A wish to make, a wish to break
Of timeless hold, of ephemeral swish

Words die on quivering lips.....

There's yet more to learn on the path
Of life, how to hurt and how to strife
To get over the pain of prolonged days
Of endless nights of interminable anguish

Words die on quivering lips....

Its an art to survive when you want not to
Its disastrous to die when you ought to
Navigate the waters dangerous to wade
At the other end perhaps joy awaits

Words die on quivering lips....

At the far end of the horizon there appears
Alive a rainbow of colours so bright
I think I can wrench it free from the sky
Squeeze it tight in my palms and make it mine

Words die on quivering lips....

Alas! Roars the thunderous fate
The torrents of pain how to abate
How to reason with demons within
How to let the angels win

Words die on quivering lips......

Free I shall be from shackles strong
Soul's songs are yet to be born
Dirge of pain, the venomous peg
Reign I shall within to check

Shan't let the melody die
Shan't let spring say goodbye
Shan't let hurt on self inflict
Shan't let words die on quivering lips

Vagrant Shades

Its good that you know me not

Far apart shall echo muted pain

In intimacy, a hesitant blush

Deep, in the rush of spring 

The surge of shades million

Paint the breeze melodious  

Fragrant, the jewels be cherished

In dreams of a perfect mating

Glimpsed have I the  

Tempest reigned in unkempt

Locks, the bohemian jazz of 

Unchecked hush of whispers 

Loud and the unsaid stays 

Embedded in my flute tuned

To sing your songs unwritten yet

Its good that you know me not

(Inspired by this wonderful song by Tagore which can never be told in any other way....)

Of Wound & Pain

of the wounds lets not talk
they are old and dry
though they have left behind
ugly marks, yet they are mine
of the pain I have to say more
because that is what has made me
courage? No, not that
perhaps, the will to endure
and the zest to survive
lets talk about that a little more
you tell me how you've gathered
wit, when life took on the
thorny paths, I shall tell you
my tale of unexpected twists
and you shall pat my back...
"Bravo" spell the admiration
loud and clear, well that's what
motivates to move on, dear
not wounds nor pain, but
the odd realization , my friend!
that we have made it to the
end; that is what pulls on
from time to time
rest is just a long, dreary walk
down the memory lane