I KNOW NOT..

I know not

   What I write…

I hear a murmur..

   “Only Insanity could give birth

To poetry

       Without pangs….”

Here, words hug

 Each other..

      I smell rain and earth….

And lost,

And forever

   Lost in an embrace..

AWAY

How far should I travel

To find 
Where

  This story ends….
Where 
This ink

  Stops bleeding itself…..

A THEME UNWRITTEN

I lost you

Somewhere in the rains....

Only to find you again,

Waving at me...

From the far end 

of a railway platform

never -ending........

........................................

And with every step 

You took,

Closer

To me..

You were becoming a

Theme

For my poem, unwritten....

YATRA

The journey is gaining momentum, cutting across time…

Through the lowered windows a cool breeze tries to get in to play with the waning fragrance of Ponds cold cream…

It’s eternity for me, the journeys of the soul…

Beyond the sands of Bharatapuzha, everything seems different... atleast to the migratory soul in me…the nights more darker, the songs more deeper..

Every little thing, every moment, every face I met…

The remnants of ghazals, grandmas in plain white, dark red chillies , the night skies under the canopy of which cicads cry, the aroma of  hibiscus greens turning brown in simmering coconut oil  ,and

Loves more loved and passions more passionate…

I remember every journey  ending with my cotton dupattas whiffing of acrylic and sunsets ....marvelling at the fascinating amiability with which  fibres engorge the fragrances around them..

Maybe memory is playing a little prank with my thoughts adding hues to a canvas dripping in rain …

Should I complain..:) ..well, why should I ?

I am loving them..this journey and the journeys beyond..:)

For a Very Misplaced You

Sometimes the forsaken streets

Talk to me in whispers,

And the stray dogs

Whom you fed rotis,

Whom you christened orphans

Look up from the leftovers

Of a suburb,

With tenderness so genuine

At me,

At thy companion of

ardent memoirs

And follow me,

Till they feel I slackened my pace

To bestow a nod of recognition

In pure imitation of

A very evanescent you.

Friend,

This verse , I dedicate

To your absence,

For

Every moment

This misplaced gratitude

Stings my perfectly armoured

Heart..

Coffee Blues

Over a cup of brewing

Coffee

We laughed them off,

And caroused

The thoughtful years that went by

Adding

Ounces of maturity

To our rather

Immature reflections.

Once again, we laughed them off..

Our very own 

Pride,

Anger,

 Hatred,

 Dreams,

 Hopes

Love...

We went on stirring

Those brown waves that

Smelt of memories,

Iridescent and effervescent.

 In the end a void  remains

That spoke of

Silences…

and

Nothingness demands

Nothing more.

The coffee tastes

Insipid.

MIGRATORY BIRDS

Why 

Do we call 

Ourselves...

  Migratory Birds ,

While, 

All we have

And

All we long for

is

a

Home .

Insane Ramblings of a Mind with Extrasensory Perception

When the bookworms came seeking me

Through the worn out pages of some tale,

I was reading Kafka.

 “Intellectual”

I heard them whispering

To each other.

And one by one, like meek school kids

They retreated,

To the dog-eared pages

Of knitted words.

 When the termites came seeking me

Through the void space where

The door meets the floor,

I was in deep slumber.

   “Yogini”

They articulated with solemnity

And took silent steps backward

To their crimson castles.

When the ants came seeking me

From their sand dunes,

I was snacking

A packet full/half  of Lays.

To be more precise

American-style Cream and Onion,

(My favourite flavour)

“Citizen of the world”

They looked up with acceptance

And marched away

To their dunes

Through the open windows.

P.S : And I don  my robes with elan