The Solitary Song

Candid I live now far too griped;
A domain door and wall to steal;
A vault this strong no common man
Had eyed beyond nor reveal.
The coldest night, calm and blind,
Fingers numb desperately slide.
Sheltered in tales conveyed,
Unseemingly bold yet draped
In questions of some oblivion might;
Echoes what far less than said.
Crinkle, crumble thoughts that build;
Contemplate a lingering denied;
Never in western sails I fought
Names always dared to write.


Far corners

Further while I passed the door, my footsteps on long corridor,
Each hurled in murmur fainting…
Torment not O echo of thy voice – plead thee with life.
Was I in slumber slain to bleed my limbs, fail to rise,
Stared at by the coldest walls, dark ceiling to vie?
At far end it stood and seemed to last;
Corners outshone blinding lights;
No warrior did ever lay hands on spoils so worth a prize.
Did I hear u call my name?
My lady, a silence so desired to stay –
The first I know to find longing so.

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

  • -render
  • 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.