Time To Cross Over

I remind myself again and again

This is the last leg of the journey 

Decide what you have to pack or unpack

Bitterness ? Sadness ? Emptyness ? Loneliness?

Or 

Those rare moments of clarity ? Untinted joy ? 

Unabashed realisations? 

Serendipitous revelations ? 

That life is/was worth living 

(Though not always 

Yet...)

Bounties abound 

The shelter of the sky

The fragrance of the untimely blooms

The lushness of the cluster of leaves

The chiffon breeze

The whispering branches of the trees

My breath mingling

With my dreams

They say there is a sacred space inbetween 

Where you grow abundantly 

Have I done that ?

There is still time

Still a chain of breath alive 

To pour out the poison within

Fill up the lungs with blessings

Cleanse the soul

Before  moving  on

To that white space of dreamy existence 

Let past be past 

And unbox what I have kept hidden

A very long time

Cherished rather

The darkness  imagined as light

Which propelled me to zones of grief

Starkness of thoughts 

Madness of impulses

The cursed gifts of life

Were they really ?

Or 

Did I presume them to be ?

Aha! It's not the hour to

Seek what I lost myself in

It's rather time to prepare

For the cross over destined

Lures across the threshold 

The only quest that lurks

Shouldn't I travel light ?

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Oh!! This Night...

Summer moon...

Lying on the cold sheets

Gazing at the stars

I would often fall asleep 

Forgetting you

O summer moon 

You still shone

At the window

And spread over

My threshold 

Your sequined smile

Autumnal wind...

Did you take away

My dear friend 

I had carried her back home

On chariots of chrome

She had winked at me

And promised to be mine

Forever 

Where does she hide now?

Beneath the caper of the clouds

Darkening deeper my nights

Oh! That frozen smile

I guess winter has arrived

You have lost your sheen a little 

Your shine sends chill down my spine

Your bleak visage soothe

My fluttering heart no longer

O ice maiden

Where are the nights warmer ?

Aah spring...

You bring back intoxicating dreams

Your breeze sprays fragrances

Of delight...your blooms are 

Ever so bright 

The days are sunny and cheerful 

The nights have that devilish charm

I know you are no longer mine

Yet I crave for your beatific smile

O spring moon 

You have always been my muse

And shall forever remain mine

Pic from Pinterest

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Waking Up

it's difficult 

to wake up from a dream

the sudden realisation that 

it was just a dream

is maddening

dreams are no more dreams

as often I watch over myself 

while dreaming 

it's disheartening 

it's not another world

where you are happy, sad

bickering, pathetic, miserable

it's here and now

so frustrating

what you thought was attainable

is perhaps a figment of your

imagination....no more reachable 

because it's not a dream any longer

it's here and now here and now 

don't scream out of anger

or disappointment 

it's your late realisation 

that you forgot to figure out

it's no more a dream

the world knew and therefore 

it never stopped moving away

taking a course different 

you stagnated because 

you thought it was just a dream

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My Neighbour

Sharp 12.00 PM

Afternoon 

She is there

Nosing around 

Poking, peeping,

Irritating ... 

Curious as ever 

"Too much of curiosity is not good"

Like water falling on stone

It has no effect on her

"What you reading?"

She asks, her eyes sharp, shrewd

Brows puckered in an ugly frown

"A book...a novel.."

"What about?"

"About a married girl being blackmailed about her past..."

She snorted...

"As usual, old story..."

"It's interesting ", I said

" Must be,"She smirked,

" Everybody is interested in other's business,"

I look at her pointedly 

She shrugs 

"Why don't they write about the futility of everything.... conquests and bloodbaths...

we are making history they say.....all rubbish "

"Yes, all rubbish! That is why it's not written about"

She puts her head down almost kissing her chest

"All rubbish! All rubbish!" She suddenly shrieks,

A cackle of laughter follows

Cacophonous....

I object but by then she is gone 

At 12.00 PM

Every afternoon 

She comes uninvited 

Sitting on the leafy branch

Of my Chameli tree

Surveys the world around knowledgeably 

Makes a few caustic comments about humans and their follies

Flies away spreading her wings wide

Perhaps

To peep in some other windows 

And collect the leftovers of

Gossips and whispers 

Of mellowed pain 

I don't hide my feelings 

She can't care less

Yet, if she is late 

I look at the clock

And check the time

Is it not 12.00 PM ?

How come she is not here

My neighbour 

Infallible Mrs Crow...

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Last Minute

Sooner we end this the better

The tomfoolery

The bickerings 

The fake smiles

The real tears

The abrupt touch

Of the hands

The dismal longings 

Of togetherness 

The hopes

The disappointments 

The disillusioned dreams

The loss , the pain 

Of losing

The aches, the burns 

The haunting memories 

The fear of knowing

The truth

The exaltations

The exuberances

The excitements

Of rapid heartbeats

The fading happiness 

The hurried parting

The last minute goodbye

Sooner it ends the better

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One Day

One day 

I shall call myself 

Home

Sit across you

And sing a heart to heart 

Song

I have

So many questions to ask 

Hoping after hope

For honest replies

To the mysteries unresolved

To the dark side veiled

By  crooked smiles

To the tears unshed

To the wound untreated

To the pain unembalmed

I guess

You will open up to me 

And I perhaps eagerly  to you

Till we find the fulcrum 

On which to balance 

Our tears and smiles

Pains and relief

Wounds and sutures

Till then

We shall seek moments of truth

Unto ourselves 

With hearts half healed

Flesh half scarred

Notes unmusical 

Lyrics jarred

Thoughts unrevealed 

Unsaid, unfelt, unspoken 

Squashed

Mysteries unveiled

Yet far apart

One day

You and I will be one

Till then....

The quest continues

Unembarked

One day

I will bring you 

Home

You and I

Together 

Shall build a nest

Of songs and lyrics 

Of your and mine

One day...

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At Sixty

At sixty

I am still not consumed forever

Life still flickers

Though not inflammable

It's peculiar strength

Comes from bygone years

By now I should have given up

On having a heart....yet I am not heart-less

Till now.... nor am I green with envy

Of those who possess sweeter memories 

Of days gone by and left in hand

Nor do I yearn for my baby teeth

To show off the whiteness of my soul

Virgin in its longings

At sixty

I am my own self 

A little bitter...a wee bit better than

My former self with roots firmer still

Stretching to the ocean 

Where all tributaries mingle

And loose their own selves

In shape, colour, creed of being human

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