Thursday 29 April 2010


Someone to fight my battles… sometimes; to teach me how to fight the rest of the times.
Someone to hold me tight and squeeze the pain out
Someone to listen to half-baked truths and strange lies
Someone to tell faraway stories and sing forgotten songs
Someone to let me wet his cheeks with my tears and not dry them
Someone to look and find new mysteries in my eyes everyday
Someone to live for, someone to die for…

Saturday 24 April 2010

Haven of words

I found this on a friend's profile, it sums up almost entirely what I want to say, or write. Well, almost... other emotions I can't even begin to put into words...

“I try to talk to you, but I don't know what to say. I am afraid you don't want me to say anything. So I don't. But inside of me there are words waiting to come out. And tell you how I feel-like how I miss you. How I love you despite my broken heart. How I need you in my life. Especially how much I want you. But those words may forever stay in my heart-locked inside. Sometimes I wonder if there are words locked inside you too... but I'll never know. May the love hidden deep inside your heart, find the love waiting in your dreams. May the laughter that you find in your tomorrow wipe away the pain you find in your yesterdays...”

Friday 23 April 2010


- for U.
(written by the fantastic poet in response to the one below)

Shining inside a forest,
Your eyes capture the night,

Sight and dream look for home,
on a wild terrestrial adventure,

Sky maps unfold in your song,
New villages come alive,

We speak of the universe,
and it's fresh dance,

Your body once more,
an orange factory of truth,
my words are sore and clever,

Sit softly on the stone,
It hears your breathing,
Hears your prayer,

Hears your voice as it moves
through the snake
lanes of love.

Come running tonight,
Come in poetry tonight,

Come in spirals and grey architecture.


(to a fantastic poet, friend, fellow-being)

Serenades of purple darkness
Streaking from your pen,
Onto pages
Forming fragile images
And fractured tunes
On the night-fabric.
Rivers of pain,
Acid, ash, embers;
Orange tongues of passion
Splayed on walls of thought.
Whorls of emotions
Ensconced in poems, songs
Empty, filled.
Ebbing now, brimming again.
Strains of the forgotten music
Mix with
Strokes of the brush
Forming you
Unbridled, unconcealed
On your rampant ravages
Through space...

Thursday 22 April 2010


This was written quite some time ago. Its about how nature, in the form of trees, depicts platonic love... the pain of wanting physical comfort and not finding it from the one you love.

Down the road of wintry lights,
Where autumn’s coffin lay,
Where golden days and silver nights,
Have always had their way.

Footsteps etched in coppice, heath
And water lilies born.
Where dawn heralds the dewy wreaths,
That emerald grass adorn.

Azure the skies with cotton clouds,
Brilliant the wind that sighs,
Steadfast trees standing proud,
Reflected in the eyes.

Trees that whispered windy songs
To birds that glided past.
Rippling streams of stories long
Gurgled though the valley, vast.

Two trees that stood on the bank
A lifetime of knowing hence,
Wished upon each other’s flank
Pining for each other thence.

The ash tree, she sang for him,
Her oak, her forever love.
Songs of caprice and her whim,
For her only true love.

“Come to me, O stranger you,
To become one on starlit nights,
To make dreams of us true,
To stretch our arms to greater heights.”

But cannot move the oak great,
Nor can the dainty ash,
For roots beneath the soil stayed,
Not yielding to thoughts rash.

Springs melted into summer heat,
To touch with fingers, was all to do
“Autumns into winter retreat,
But I can’t be one with you…”

“I wish for flight my only one,
To prove my love to you.
If only we were not held down,
That I would be one with you.”

Years passed by in furious haste
Till that one fateful night,
When a storm put all world to waste,
And everything in its sight.

It ripped apart the oak in two
While the ash survived;
Streaks of lightning electric blue,
And a fiery red sky.

Down the road of wintry lights,
Where autumn’s coffin lay,
Are strains of song on lonely nights,
This is what they say…

“O love of mine, my soul of yore
Now you are but free,
From bondage then, for evermore,
Mine in death to be…”

Monday 19 April 2010


(to the one who broke all the promises)

If you had stayed,
Perhaps I would've remained too.
This is a strange malady
That you have me in.
A part of me has flown with you,
The other knows not what to do.
If you had known all along,
You should have wished it for me,
The same you wished yourself-
The walking away, the going apart;
And then I too,
Would've found a way
That led away from you.
I wouldn't have hurt and you,
In your stony silence,
Would have heard my nails
screech against the glass
Of my loneliness...


There are days when I don't feel like moving, or doing anything. I want to wake up and lie in bed, unthinking, unfeeling. I don't even want to talk, or eat, or do anything to improve this state of mind. I want to stay in my numbness, cold and biting, like ice in my veins.
Today is one of those days, when I want to go into a coccoon and not peep out, time-warp this entire day. I am at work and everytime I have to say something I have to will myself to open my mouth and make the words come out at an acceptable rate. It seems like such an effort to just get myself to act upon anything. I wish everything around me would freeze and stand still for just a little while.Everyone to stop talking, stop moving, just stop whatever they are doing and sit still, unfeeling...
It would be good too, if I lay somewhere and bled out. If my blood kept flowing out of everywhere and drained me of life, sapped my of strength, and then I would just waste away and not be. That would be nice...

Friday 16 April 2010


Murphy’s Law states that “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong”.
Well I am Murphy’s all-time favourite. At airports, my luggage is always the last to appear trudging on the conveyor belt. When I am at a restaurant with a group of people, my order invariably comes last. The glue always finishes before the last picture is to be stuck and sizes are never available for the clothes I like.
Things like the above i can deal with... I can curse and stomp my feet and vent my anger. But I also happen to be a real person with real preferences. I hate moving, hate shifting. I have had to move and live in different places all my life. And yes it is lovely to travel and see new places and meet different people. But no, it isn’t worth the effort of moving your entire life and losing your old friends.
I hate partings, I hate knowing people who move on, fast and easy. They leave their old lives behind and keep up with the need of time and I have to deal with moving on and carrying the emotional baggage of their absence.
I hate times when I am having difficulty in coming to terms with my problems and someone comes along and says “Oh I am so used to it”. Well, I wish i could get used to ‘it’ too. I do not like change. It seems to me too, that it shouldn’t be very difficult to have my life in a corner, one job, one house and a little space to call my own; forever. Friends that I’d have had for years, places and roads I know like the back of my hand, the same joints, the same bookshops, the same life day-after-day, year-after-year. Oh to be mundane... anything for mundanity.

Wednesday 14 April 2010


Are you talking to me,
With you voiceless lips
And loveless eyes?
Strains of our old songs
Are struggling with
Your smoking cancer stick;
Have you forgotten them already?
Your naked, fragile fragrance
Is whispering things to me,
Are you making it?
O mad lover, when you
Tried to make you mine,
What stopped you? Or
Was it just that
My love was too much to bear?
And you sneaked away
Scared and wounded
Like me...