Across again


Merged two days, this mind wonders still…
Longer if to hold this beat, dear too nigh that none does know.
In crowded cheers, in thousand thoughts,
All gathered whispers in the hall, no reason fascinated so will draw –
Turn such sights across but her.
At night when times in desperate flee, hold a spur to light memories.
Each and every smile so flashes, bridges call to destiny.
Times that stood so silenced, adored like dusty dusky rays,
No borders meet though humbly found, tender throbs lead the way.
Like every breeze that slithers and fondles indifferent blades,
Her voice, an alluring laughter, soothes uncanny waves.


Heaven’s drizzle

  • – render
  • Standing in the hallway with blinking lights.
    Modest drizzle droplets slide down the panes beside;
    Each drop could be a wonder,
    Each drop that caught the eyes;
    If rain made heaven like today,
    What man deserved to die?
    Overgrown windowsill’s awe-inspiring,
    Lush with tender vines;
    Did Lord made the good earth
    Or man won it to their pride?
    Jacana still lingers long past the twilight,
    Has it begun to ponder of that’s left last to cry?
    And all the empty vases while waited petals grow,
    Invast seasons wishing the last withered no more.
    Like the satin curtains veiled nature’s play,
    On road to any heaven, man stood at doorway.
    No jump surpassed such tallness, or by strength overthrown,
    No music could reach the ears, the magic they did before.

    Street laurel

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  • Kept aside so long in time –
    Walks in alley of places deprived;
    Pictures pretty etched to despair
    When conjured, fastened to pain aware.
    Shattered hailstones on rooftops loud,
    Clouds of rain o’er washed down town.
    Old street lamps of the brightest few;
    Dun street ditches draw steps uneven.
    Lonesome on crossroads, dusky ripples or bronze
    Drops, so playful, train down umbrella ends.
    Darkened leaves that spatter against the crimson sky,
    Their broad contours enlivened along the tree-line.
    One way uplifts where signpost is maimed due,
    Market bound, perhaps for a boon companion too.

    Closer Still

    A clouded bridge, no signs convey
    A misty bed, a river dead;
    The air’s too still and earth tranquil.
    How soon to a broken end?
    Eerie, eerie, step to miss –
    A word to pass in sight to crave!
    Heavy with heart’s turmoil,
    Ruins to leave with rising stead.
    Chances meek to time’s despair,
    Closer still the awkward wall;
    Chained to length by mystery,
    Strangers till the solemn fall.
    Wordless whisper if floats with stairs,
    Newel top or to scaffold tall,
    Concealed temptation no greater nigh,
    To stay beneath, to stay unloved.

    So laden

    Beheld an evening sky –
    Across which if my answers lie?
    If the hilltop now swooped up high;
    Like my breaths life does not get by.
    So care to now have unfolded wings
    And see beyond the farthest skies.

    Not crumbled yet, still laden left;
    Can care no more to lift an eye;
    But the shadow stays and darkness cries,
    Where failures drag me down the side.

    Don’t ask no more, let me be still;
    Hold my hand, be a company.
    Tired of running all my life
    Like someone lined at muzzle sights.

    If man ever worked so hard,
    What gain he had to boast in end?
    A content life, a blithely spree?
    A broken soul that’s never free.

    Drenched in toils of sweetest life,
    With icy stakes across the heart;
    Gasping, suffocating with every sigh.
    Can coldness smother the lively warmth,
    Jubilee in thoughts of purest white?
    Life O life, what more do you need?
    Take away my days
    And lend me back my pride.

    Lady By The Shore

    lady on shore
    I took a cab to Kipit waterfront. When I stepped out the greyness had disappeared. Tedious after work, it was habitual to stroll along the finely pruned hedges. A year or so had it been since I last sighed at the misty shore breezes. I stopped to look around and eased my brows at the sight of the day fading to darkness. The still waters of Bay and the abandoned steamer on my left sank in to an easy familiar picture. There was however the bench a few yards off, a glimmering red to the eye, looking all by itself.

    The way it used to be, a lady took her seat often, sitting in solitude for long hours, staring straight at the dying day over the water. I wondered if she ever noticed my presence. The number of times I had seen her, it seemed nostalgic about looking at the picture of a girl waiting on the subway platform for her train home. At times when she arrived along with her friend, they would chat, stop in between, leave their seats for a while and then start bantering again. Yet of all the blarney, her friend would reluctantly depart before very long. The lady would step back and take her place in all her wonted likeliness. Not blasé, she had the looks true to a stranger – a stranger to a foreign land. Not defiance, nor acceptance – she seemed to pity others. And the thought that she enjoyed a tranquil sunset gradually faded away.

    I stepped into the Antoinne’s Meet to sip coffee. The river was now glowing with the lights from the row of houses and shops facing the river. A painfully distraught swell of the strings of fiddle caught my attention from the instrument store next to Antoinne’s prime diner. The classical ambience outside had always been a definition of pleasure. The yellowness of the brightened alleys was to be enamoured with. Once or twice, the picture through the double glazing gave me the strangest feeling of having caught a glimpse of the lady sitting by the shore. I got my head straight and finished up my cup of coffee, considering to take a stroll while still trying to relax myself.

    I stopped only to light a cigarette when the voice of a lady, looking in my direction with some interest, disrupted the spontaneity of my quietness. She walked up to me and to all my surprise said, “Do you remember me?” I stood wondering for a moment if she actually meant me. She got the idea from my face and answered herself, “Remember me, you paid for my ride home the last time when I forgot my handbag in another cab and lost it earlier that evening.” Still all I could think was, “She definitely means me.”

    “I wanted to pay you back before but you never returned. I live a little up the street now. Here!” And she headed for her purse.

    “That is not necessary. But thank you.
    I am still not certain if you owe me.”

    “I see; would you like to join for the evening tea then?”
    I hesitated again thinking that I had just been to the coffee shop. She tried to excuse herself saying she needed to get back soon revealing an immediate familiarity from her features when she turned.

    “Can I walk you home Holly?”

    She looked at me this time in surprise. “So, you do remember me. Sure! If you don’t mind.” “Do you go around helping people all the time that it becomes hard for you to remember them all?”, she joked. I couldn’t help but smile, thinking whatever had happened to the melancholy loneliness, to the silence in her face. She did sound sort of outgoing and gregarious in the company of her friend. But I was glad to meet her again. The glimpse a while ago might not have been an illusion. She did come after all.

    Café love

    Treading on rustling leaves in moments last fall,
    Maiden lifted my head and had you told –
    Daisy-love like heart fluttered and burst in fiddle waves;
    No imagination or things foretold to be in café tales.

    Sassy curls, calmly resting on shoulders so graceful,
    Awed at the beauty sipping coffee at the table;
    Dreamy gestures captured past lashes of the hazel eyes,
    Found fingers smoothly slipping on the stiletto sides.

    Dotty hair-pin bite at the corner of glossy lips;
    Strolled behind silently to catch one careful glimpse.
    Stops, every turn and stare, captivating, how you shy away;
    Painless love profound in that smiling face.

    Blameless runaway cries, how could I not adore!
    Coloured springtime wish, yearned to perfect bout’s call.
    Nearness in aura howling peachy love, aflame;
    No sun rapt shine brighter to the eye again.