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Just one day

The ripples on the quiet lake,
twinkling stars on a moonless night,
and his lonely, crazy, thoughts,
yet again, his faithful companions
on another of those countless nights,
searching for meaning, awaiting the dawn.

the night crawled by, as he drifted afloat,
memories of the past and dreams of the future,
until approaching footsteps, brought him back
did the chill of the wind, get to his head?
or was his guarded secret, not his anymore?

Before his thoughts, collect, he could,
his friend, from far away lands unknown,
was there with him, to share his thoughts,
to hear the wind hum the tunes of yore,
while the stars and the lake, as a duo, danced.

They watch the sun rise, from atop the hillock,
basking in the warmth, and see the town wake up,
lose themselves in the woods below,
on their way back, rest by the lake shore,
watching it, silently, shine in the daylight,
letting it wet their feet and clear his head.

Together, they cook themselves, a delicious meal,
n enjoy it, with some of the choicest old wine.
Catch-up on things, and yearn for more, discuss
all the many things, under the sun, and over,
without a clue, as to how much time flew by.

Riding away, as fast as they could, they reach,
just in time, as the sun set, over the seas,
perched on bicycles, in mirrored positions, with
resonating thoughts, the horizon, they watch
the sun set, the beach light up, and the fair begin.

They ate and drank, sung and danced and
just had a good time, for the rest of the night,
indulging, in all that the fair could offer.
the night was long, but if wouldn't go on forever,
pretty well, they knew, they day was to end.

the twinkling stars they watched, yet again,
but to the sea's song, on the still warm sand
slowly, but steadily, into sleep he drifted,
only to be awake, moments later, with the
bright sun coming harshly down upon him,
lighting up the lake, like a carpet of jewels.

all he had, once again, were just his thoughts,
the lake, and not the sea, by his side,
with fading impressions of an impossible dream
after all, wasn't it just too much action,
for just one day, for a life engulfed by ennui?

One some day, he told himself, and walked away.

Inspired by a friend.

Hand in Glove

the time, together spent,
the memories cherished,
all the love, concern and care
may they stay with us, for life.

as high and far as you like
may you fly, like you own the sky
while I fumble, with my flying guide
I see the world, through your eyes

may you run, with all your might
as if, fighting for life, you are.
struggling to walk, I stumble and fall,
but get up each time, inspired to run.

may you, in all that we shared
find strength to go on, if en-route
our paths diverged; you may have to wait,
but you shall see me, on the other side!

Thanks to Chaitu, I re-read Love Unvoiced a few times and realized, I was trying to say too much. Here's another poem, with one part of what I wanted to say. I will not be writing newer poems, to say the other stuff. Perform your own Fourier analysis.

Love Unvoiced

Hard, I tried, to stay mum,
and keep it all within.
But, not much longer can I stand,
I give in, and here's my song

wherever you are, anywhere you go,
whatever you do, or choose not to,
whatever you think and however you feel,
my love for you, it shall only grow.

Sweet, is the attachment,
but let it not keep you from flying.
the clear open sky, it's all yours
fly! fly! fly!

see all that you want to,
and do all that you'd like to.
to your hearts content, fly!
without a care in the world, fly!

for, if ever, you wish to rest,
now you know, where to return
right here, I shall be,
with love, just a little more.

Mute, I chose to be, but, boy!
does it need to be told. All over me,
it's written; and you, sure, read me!
Love you, for being the more loving one!

Who I am

I'm not the body that dies
on missing a beat or one breath.
I'm not the mind, so fickle,
I'm in heaven one moment, and next in hell.

I'm the moments I live,
not the ones, in which I just exist.
I'm the dreams I dream,
those fulfilled, and not just yet.

I am the occasions I grace
and those, missed, where I am.
I am the words I spoke,
those I wrote, and those I will.

I am all that I create,
and the stuff that I catalyse.
I am the love I receive,
and all of it that I spread.

Don't cry, when I die,
for I never really will.

Just another bunch

Come spring -
a fresh lease of green
drapes the bare branches.

The leaves, dancing and whistling
to the tunes of the wind
playing, screaming, and singing,
in each other's company, enjoying.

Singing to one another
promises of sticking together,
come what may, through it all.

The song goes on,
but the count goes down,
not noticed or just unacknowledged,
first by one and then by many more.

the song, still, goes on.
And the promises too, of course.
The song goes on and on and on.

Until silence falls upon, when all
of them are gone. The tree, knowing well,
watches on - it won't be long before
a new bunch springs up to sing the song.

To do or not to do

Achieve something, I'm often reminded,
achieve something, something that's worthwhile.
Don't just kill time, they say,
for, brutally, it shall kill you someday.

Make the best use of time, I tell myself,
for I realize, how I spend my days
is how I'm spending my life and
I'm going to get just one of it!

But, what is worthwhile, I wonder
everything seems so good one moment
and all meaning vanishes the very next.
I'm utterly confused, somebody help!

Pick one from, spoke my brother,
the 'everything' that seems good
and do it right, just, do it right!
Life, as you live through it, shall
teach you to do things that are right
and at the end of it all, you'll
never regret what you've done
but, only what you couldn't!


Inspired by

  1. a late-night conversation with a friend
  2. Annie Dillard, "How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives"

who am I?

dead and lifeless, in a box I lie
just my size, to be buried deep somewhere,
arranged with flowers, bright and fragrant
more alive than dead, are they
the final goodbye I have said,
gone am I, never to return–but
who am I, who am I, who am I?

am I –
the knowledge I arduously gained,
from all the books I read and re-read.
the wealth and riches I made,
at the cost of sweat, often also blood.
the skill with utmost care I groomed,
for that, today, has me world-renowned.
the numerous battles I braved,
where win or loss never, only a fight mattered.
all those dreams I dared to dream,
and the goals I never, or have, reached.

None of it, I realised, am I,
but, who am I, who am I, who am I
deep and loud, for one last time I wonder
"the difference, you make to the world,
is who you are", my Master answered,
"Life's fragrance is in service,
it grows and unfurls, far and wide,
long after you are lifeless and dead"


A hug so deep,
resting on him the Christ,
isn't just etched
unto flesh of my chest,
but my heart bathes,
in the beauty of His love.

A close embrace,
not a speck moves,
the winds stand still,
while my mind soars,
above the skies,
across the blues,
within and without.

I wish a Wish.

On a day, Wonderful,
'm filled with emotion
for, I think of
all that we share.

On a day that's Special,
for the World,
not just yet may be,
my heart rejoices
in the light you fill me with.

On a day, epochal
I just hope, you enjoy
all that the World's given
and celebrate for
all the difference you make
in the World of some.

On this day,
overwhelmed, with lots to convey,
silence, I choose,
for, it speaks louder than words.
I just say,
Happy Birthday, mate.

my 50th post; A poem, I wrote a few weeks ago; A poem or is it doggerel?; Something I wrote for a chum, that gives me courage to write more.

What is... ?

This is a free world,
you are free to will and whim,
can it, at the cost of,
your brother n his freedom,be?

Life is price'less',
the big shots say, we realize.
is it why, you sell ya brethren's life,
cheaply, for personal gain?

The human'kind', we call ourselves,
aren't the rivers, the air,
the forests or our mother earth,
worthy of our acts of kindness?

We are making rapid strides,
from the micro to the nano,
is it just in sci & tech, or does
it coop in our loves and lives too?

The world's a small place,
the wise and learned say,
is that why, not all have,
a roof, under which to stay?

Its a world of press n media,
is it why we are pressed at,
with news that's dubious,
in truth and worth as well?

We are all for world peace, they say,
do you alone, make up "the world"? I ask
How else would war, uncalled for
bring about world peace?

I want my piece is all I hear.