Poetry, Free thought, Realization, Painting, Story & ...

The Cursed Bird As I lie doomed while I breathe my last, The sky casts its spells on me with a cursed afterlife. Upon my rebirth, in the body of a hatchling I see sky all around. And those I left behind, now tread far below and faded from my eyes. I too wish to rest my toes over the grass so green. And plash the shimmering water when it is serene. Wish I could fly so low to see the walking mortals in glee. But my wings are cursed and this earth is a fireball for me. They see me unwearyingly holding on to the top branches of the tree. And poets underneath gaze at me and make an analogy to my state with nirvana. But they know not; my predators would be more at peace, To have me on their diet than see me poised on top of the trees. The earthly mortals say, their soul leave for the sky as they breathe their last. While my soul would dash to the ground as my wings flaps its last. Every moment been edgy as long as my toes remained on the soil. ...

The Flamboyant Tree I saw you embellished with peacock flower as you stand so still. But seldom do you now see me trill, past the hill. Few were the times you made captive of a passerby. Only when left amongst all in the orchard, you remained the last to bloom. Those very few I endeared, thoughtfully gave them a pet name. Named my daughter Tini, hoping she would always be the same. One by one I plucked the pinnules in my teens at times of indecisiveness. And the last one left, often guided me; so did I name you the Decision tree. I saw you as you withstand the thunder and the storm, That bared you of, all the glory and your flamboyant form. While in my woes you have sheltered me in your shade. Caressed me with your low-hanging leaflets as I find my woes slowly fade. On a certain day, a puff to my pipe puts the smoke up in the air. My weary eyes look up to see the blue sky and the sun glare. I saw you conceal the sky from me with the spread o...

I couldn't see you leave My nights were spent as I hear you speak, My nights also spent as I stop you speak, Night passed by as I hear you breathe, And so often woke me up when I no longer hear you breathe. Now I tell my child the days that I passed. Feeling his breath with the dorsum of my hand hearing him go numb. Following him everywhere that promised him days few more. And often hopelessly chasing life that for sure one day give in. Those were the days we were meant to celebrate. But fate kept us together more when days were bad. And bad days are known to last longer than the good, So did I hope to be aside you till you are gone. Not many days did I spend since the day I had left, to return soon. And now I hear the news that you are no longer alive. I brood that when I was near, I saw you die daily. But when you did die, I could not see you die!

A Madman's Memoir They see me often with the Sun and the Moon, But when asked say they know me not. They see all of me, but knows not my name, I say, without a name, would I not be the same. I speak out my heart, and they call me mad. Bemused am I as I see them bear grief in joy and smile when sad. Many a time did they make me an offer. Could be one among them, a tongue to my mind if I can lend. Musings of thine, they call it ecstasy. And that in mine, relate to utter lunacy. Display of order raise them to the level of a supreme being. While breaking the same I see them elate with overbearing supremacy. Utterances that are loudest are deemed to be truth. Riots spark religious consciousness more than the ostentatious prayers. The infinite one foolishly confined within the walls. I pain to agree, I too was one alike long before I was mad! The God is within but they bang the bell to awaken the all-pervading. And when rectitude ...

The Vanity Bag I see them cheer, and call me the girl with the vanity bag, And some gaze at the bag as I see their head sag. More so do I walk the town with pomp when mamma is aside, But I go rapt as I see her bag, wondering what all must be inside. Among many, the vanity bag is one that displays our similarity, While among a few, this is also the one that defines us distinctly. As I desire to ask, what all do you carry in it mamma? I too would share you the secret behind my bag’s charisma. As I see you unzip yours, I am awed to see in you beauty personified, While the stars hidden in the sky see me vivified. I go pensive as I see object of surprises flutter out of your bag, And the sight of it all leaves me to gag. Mine is a bag filled with things I cherish and cared, Some love hidden inside, for when of it this earth would be bared. A pinch of prayer for those condemned and left astray, And warmth for the ones for no reason hurt in an...

An Uneasy Calm Some said, why throng the temple; living gods are often seen at the orphanage. I visited, all said; meet Sue, the charming little and the youngest of all. He was someone’s love child; forsaken when their love had gone wild. My dear, as I see you giggle and wiggle among the bluebells, I keep brooding, why I still sense an uneasy calm all around!   One asked, why do I crave relentlessly; there is a place that could answer it all. I visited a home for the old; met Dora, the most loved amongst all. She’s been left alone, as those dear to her were in a rush to reach the heaven. Charmed to see her move on with pain and pleasure, leaving her past to rust. As I bade goodbye, how do I vanquish my brooding as therein lies an uneasy calm.   As the father leaves the house at dusk to start his day of toil, Hugo, in his somnambulistic pretense locks a pinky swear, for all he expects at dawn. After a day’s toil, hands with dirt and soil, Hugo fo...

            Oh, my ruthless mind! Spare me of, longings of those, lost forever! Spare me of, dreams, I can never realize! Spare me of, desires, for good, insatiable! Spare me of, love, meant to tear my heart apart! Spare me of, touch, that leaves behind, deep bruises! Spare me of, care, eyeing for a lot more in return! Spare me of, cravings of those, oblivious of my being! Spare me of, sense of loss, of those gone forever! Spare me of, the erotica, bereft of subtlety! Spare me of, glorification, that would evanesce! Spare me of, friends, presence of those, I feel only in good times! Spare me of, rhapsody, that hurls me back, to the harsh reality! Spare me of, loathing, for all, who have hurt me to the core! Spare me of, this ego of mine, obscuring my soul, that I’m part of! Spare me of, my ignorant mind, knows not, wherein lies the Supreme Truth! Spare me of, attachment for only a few, while I am barely, a par...