Life Poems - Page 2

FALLING SEED

This world was too much.
in him.
Sometimes he wanted
to go insane.
(He was talking to himself) .

He cared too much
of things and people around him,
but it splits
like a dry pod, the life,
in throes of running
to save a falling seed.

Yields his whole earned silence,
starts turning the pages
of a soiled book
lost in the attic of grief.

A Tear Drop

Dying daily in eternity
for it to be,
a tear drop held all the pain of life.
You were lost in words,
between the phrases
time was in, time was out.

The color, the theme was fading,
a seduced century
contriving the reasons to commit
the destruction of self-being.
I was struggling to empty my mind
completely.

To remain human in the loneliness
of ruins
I want to walk straight.

DIG THE FLOOR OF THE MOON

A fear stalks me on the road.
Sun was very aloof and cold.
Cannot stop the decline,
give me prayers of your lips.
You talk of dark children dying
when I was losing consciousness.

Will not question the ink of death
or silence of night.
The random greed of man walks
in golden ruins without listening.
I am counting my years wasted
in pursuit of crazy dreams of climbing a watchtower.

Hunger had become a great teacher.
Pain becomes a face. Limbs and shadows
seek justice after rape and murder.
Something seeps in me. Wounds bleeding
on my hands, I dig the floor of the moon
where God was sleeping.

LAKE SCENES

DREAM

Ambling on beach in dark
when the lake laps the feet.
Sometimes I wish to walk away
on the water like a dragonfly.

MORNING

Trying to figure out
what happened?
Lake Huron went
into flames!

MOONLIGHT

Up, above
a white ship was sailing.
On water,
thousands of boats.

LONGING

Oh God
I don’t believe you
for irretrievable sins in me.

My grandchild was asking
why did you have to go?
I had no answer.

My eyes were damp.
Okay, cannot hold you grandpa,
will you come again?

I was the end,
I was the beginning.
I kissed the burning tears of my small chit.
I said, let me go,
Set me free,
I will come, one day in you,
you are me.

Morning Star

There was no beginning
no ending.
Beyond tomorrow
you will be, what you were not.
Words would disappear,
only meaning will be left.

The interval ceases to be
from ’wasness’ to open pathway.
When you are not ready
I will be there to lift the veil.

My total pain surges forward today.
Quietly death opens the door
to welcome the lost child,
whose burden was his taste.

Farewell to the visitors of night.
The morning star is rising.

FIRST WORDS

Tie the knot with my mortgaged life –
I have started the self-descent.

Don’t leave me alone –
I have to unload some debts.
It was very disturbing. I have again forgotten
my alphabet and become illiterate.
Your consent is must
for starting a new journey.

I am neither afraid, nor worried
but fever is rising, like a flood
and ridge was collapsing.
The death was unknown to me –
it will come one day as a guest
and stay with me forever.

Times have rattled me enough
and sword hangs from the roof.
Why do I dream such?
The dichotomy between gold and lies
will start one day. I cannot go back
to my dilapidated house where I met the first words.

GOLDEN VALLEY

Blackened silence was holding the reflectivity,
reality was on the run.
Exile was complete.
Dark secrets, standing on head
remained buried in your chest
absorbing all colors of sun.

A night remembers the friends
who went over the hills one by one
to find the pugmarks of panther
that was killing your infant biographies.
The world stood bodyguard
not allowing any immortality.

Your speech was clear, but unheard
in terror of burnt-out principles.
New sleeping cells are coming up for a
metaphysical revolt. A heron was
stabbed by soaring kites
in the golden valley.

GREEN VISION

In a starry night
an adolescent thought starts
a rivalry. A baby moon squirms.
No hour was safe from terror in dark.
I climb the stairs breathlessly.

The great divide deepens in hearts.
Incisors bite the tongue,
grey cells bleed inside.
Thick ash has not stopped the cinders
smouldering under the veils of flushed peace.
Cupped tears wash the feet of death,
a caravan of words moves desolated,
cutting on the edges, before you say
goodbye to green vision.

Today I am pulling out the nails
from the walls. No hangings of departed centuries.
No portraits of exiled flames.
Only the face of truth, burning
at the interface of unthruths.

FLAMES

You went blank on the line
between sand and water,
between seizure and assault.
The tribes have unwrapped their torches,
they are coming in numbers.

Who was going on trial?
Fierce fidelity is demanding vendetta.
The drummer announces the fight.
Justice parts the lips for
peace against tragedy!

The golden voice caves in.
Time moves as a profane octopus –
suckers clasping on the vital stomata.
Green blood oozes from eyes.
The truce was transient.

Childless earth throws up the flames.