Writing is an emotional bunker to which I retreat to protect myself from the war zone of life
Staid skies,
Wilting wind
Fallow land,
Elusive rain,
Tree canopy,
Shrubs to shield,
If not hide,
Roving urban eyes,
Brown, short tufts,
Struggling in heat,
Earth meets hoary blue,
Sweating electric tall
dwarfs blanked thoughts
The stillness of nothingness
Long way,
Short stay,
The search for you
Will continue.
I could not write to describe you.
Much as I desired to ascribe to you,
The winter and the fall in leaves of thoughts,
All my literary plans tied in frustrating knots,
Frozen in admiration,
Tired, lone, adoration,
Twigs of frail memories,
Icicles on my stories,
Yet I shall wait
Horizon hope to light
In crimson dusk,
Paint your sight.
Y
Just that quiet unseen wave,
touch my heart , dart to weave,
hopes around sands that hurry,
onto tomorrow’s night so empty,
rushing on to welcome nothingness,
except those freeze sparks to stillness,
Lost in those eyes, so much like history,
steeped in your misty minuted mystery
Encapsulate this moment.
Let me retreat to this rare treat.
Just sit and gaze
Frozen into those eyes
Caress the leaf,
Trickle sheaf,
Tread light,
Touch soft,
Run past,
Damp, wet,
On to flows,
Glisten, glows,
Bubbles,
Nibbles,
To earth,
The hearth.
A dew of loneliness
The rarity of a moment
of helplessness
of anguish
of nostalgia
of darkness
the search for a lighthouse
then
the murmur of waves
thumping at my soul
I wait for you.
I wait for every car to slow down,
parallel run, cars that moan,
like, me they too are tired,
humid, drenched in sweat,
heat, long at the intersect ,
pure water, vend a packet.
quench someone else’s thirst,
dreams are so dead and decrepit,
I fear every spirit,
haunted by some threat,
I seek a share of fortune,
illusory pelf to be strewn.
The donor is long gone.
He avoids the Sun this afternoon!
An incessant evangelist,
The hum of the air conditioner,
The fidgety jerk of the generator,
The rustle of the unread books,
Honks at meek, wearied, pedestrians,
The strokes of an over- used keyboard
The clicks of the neighbour’s mouse,
The weary wind at my window,
Guilt knocks at my drained soul,
Scheming voices of office politics,
Sighs of a hungry, tired watchman,
Dissolution of sugar into that cup of tea,
The softness of your steps on my reverie ,
The fatigued waft of your smile,
The innocence of your laughter.
