Carousel

Stealthily soft-footed the shadow approached
The long dark patch stood in stark contrast to the brilliant white
Slowly moving in, the looming dark grew smaller...almost mellower
Gently it lifted the curtain of... dreams
And unlocked splashes of color
The tinkling sounds mingled with the smell of cinnamon

An appreciative sniff, and then a tumble through soft haziness
Dreamy, swirls of wonder softly tickles the arm
The sound of happiness knocks
The bubbly, curly soft heads all bobbing up and down
The carousel of childhood is carefree and full

Tripping skipping the faltering steps are unsure
The peach mingles into the orange
Blooms soft yet unknown beckons
The laughter threatens to spill unguarded
But, the grimace is the uniform to be worn

Flying, free and cloaked in goodness
Discovering new light that twinkles in the eye
Rash unhindered the laughter is melodic and controlled

The cinnamon-y goodness is mixed with the smell of spices
The sharpness of ginger peeks through the sweetness
The depth of contrast edges past developing a unique blend
Spinning, stopping the carousel moves on

The Lone Leaf

The lone tiny leaf sways in the wind
Winter is almost here...the wind is harsh
The cruel notes tearing the leaves from the tree in heaps
Golden, red, brown, orange and a murkish green
The leaves lie desolate, against the brown earth

The tiny leaf, looks down, and knows soon she'll join her brethren
The glint of sunshine will not touch her
The soft petals of bloom would not tickle her

The warm amber rays slant, and soon the black comes for its regular visit
In the silence, the breeze picks up
Soon the sound of buzzing can be heard
The wintry wind comes raging

The leaf flaps, bends and tries to hide
Knowing there is nothing, she decides to come face to face
As the bellows of the wind swishes past, she stands erect
Soon she is flying with the wind!
But, firmly anchored to the branch beneath

As the pink smiles its welcome
The lone leaf, stares groggily across the lightening expanse
As the warm glows sing
The lone leaf once again stands tall to embrace its light

As silence speaks...

As the orange turns to green...or is the green turning orange?
The glint of golden rays touches the lofty white tops,
As they part ways...bidding adieu.. the orange light caresses
Shines bright with a promise to meet again
The warm amber glow, slowly subdues and fades away
And a large grey almost ominous shadow looms...

Wrapped in a small glittery pitch black blanket
The white shadow soon peeps out
Growing till everything is bathed in its sylvan hue
As the first of the slanting rays falls on the shadowy darkness
It almost glints and sparkles with delight...
Till the whole expanse is covered in its calm whiteness

The single shining ray penetrates the grey looming fluffs
To descend on the dark blue mass- standing tall against the shrouding black
The comforting, buzzing sound of stillness
And the biting notes touches the nostrils
Create a symphony of peace and serenity

The beauty of stillness shines bright against the dark backdrop
The sheer mellowness of the rugged terrain
Leaves me without words
Silent, tall, brooding, and comforting
You enchant me, speaking, whispering your secret to happiness...and peace

Faded fascinating corner

A ray of light shines on a bit of ground
The light reflects the scattered stones etched within...
Black and White...some discoloured
They are illuminated...shining with the glory of past?

Is the glory in the past?
Or, is it made to be perceived as such?
An old photograph with faded edges...but the smile in the picture shines with the same brightness
The tinkering of bells, is still in tune despite the digital forage
So, why do we think that the same corner is old and washed out
Past its prime?

The old corner is as valuable, as priceless as any swank new pad
The same old streets, by lanes, the corners are all full of vibrant memories
Coloured by the "new" presence...
The feeling of belonging...the feeling of staying with your roots
Flourishing in the same swamp
Does it make you a frog, who is unable to leap outside?

Or, is it a sign of strength, standing in your own piece of soil
So, what if it is old, dirty or even faded
It is nurtured by warm memories, love that shines bright and is aglow with your sheer presence

So, the faded corner is not forgotten
It is indeed fascinating
Dwelling and thriving in its uniqueness
It takes a special sight to see this
It takes a feeling to realize it
And it takes love to nourish and cherish it

Return

The flow ebbs and stops,
It meanders and bends, twisting itself to mould
At the precipice it pauses as if contemplating...
Should I take the leap... and then it flows right in

Yet..the mockery of inevitability..
It meanders or speeds with reckless velocity;
Changes course at will or delights in ambling along,
But, did ever its nature know otherwise?

Can it fly, can it find another identity?
Exploring the vast canvas, trekking through the knowledge that beckons
Thirstily it looks up to quench its dream
But, the more it reaches towards the sun, the more droplets evaporate

The sun mocks its insolence...you who can be turned to nothing dare to dream
As the last speck of water disappears under the harsh criticism
Vaporizing into nothingness.. but is it truly gone?

Where are you? it cries out in violent resignation
Gentleness surrenders to the grey turbidity
Reflected all around.
The lashings of tears fall freely
Droplets...those vanquished by the "powerful"
Returning to their source

I Stand Alone

I stand alone I stand alone...
The sound of darkness sweeps over...engulfing me
I stand alone - looking at the impenetrable void
I stand alone and witness the hub of voices...soundless
I stand alone bereft of thoughts,vision-handicapped
I stand alone clutching...the grains of time, dignity or principle...
Watching as they slowly slip past.
Stripped i stand alone

Row Row row your boat

Sometimes I wonder if I had done things differently, would I be happy...perhaps more satisfied? But isn't it true that what is destined to happen will happen! If that indeed is the case, then why do we work hard, why do we do things why even dream... so that they can be shattered...or is it necessary to feel the void as you sit amidst the ruins of dreamy castles that you had built?

I'm sure we all have experienced such tumultuous thoughts...where we are undecided as to what to do. But do we then give up.. and live life as it comes. Go with the flow? No, we do put our oar into the water, but when currents advise otherwise we stop to contemplate...

Here's an example...some years back I was desperate to quit my job. I hated the job, the people I worked with and most importantly I felt trapped. To not earn, was not an option. So, there I was stuck in a job that somehow left me gasping for air. I was religiously scoring every opportunity, had also sent out feelers and explored every avenue, but somehow for the tiniest inconsequential things, I could not clinch the deal!

Then blow, right out blue... an avenue I had not even considered, beckoned. An old acquaintance, reached out. Within 4 days, I gladly tendered my resignation and settled into a job that I would hold for more than half a decade!!

Destiny, as they say has a quirky humour! But here I am again, mature, experienced and certainly more patient but with an unquenchable desire to explore more options.

My job is interesting, challenging even... yet there is something that is missing? What is it? Is it the corporate politics? the environment? the people? Well, an amalgamation of all. But, most importantly I felt I was trapped, stagnated, It is not as if there had not been opportunities of growth, or I have been doing the same thing...

So, the burning question remained...what is it that was bugging me? The answer I realized as I stared at the naked blue night light in my bedroom. It was "Me"... I  wanted to find myself! In the midst of duty, obligation and responsibility... I had lost the very thing that I fought against all odds to pursue. My dreams, my goals... something that I wanted to do...

So, yes you should dream... as you go with the flow, you may lose perspective, but remember to put your oar in.. and row with the flow!

"I'll be"

"I'll be..." and realization dawned that I'll not
The writing has become scratchy
There are uneven marks...the flow is haltered
"I'll be..." this phrase already has a period
A stop.

Standing on the threshold of 30/40, this realization is bittersweet
Dotted with unfinished dreams, but carries the soft radiance of fulfilled chances
Some dreams have been realized, some not...and some will be

But, standing on the threshold of life...
The phrase rings cruel
Fresh faced, all of five years, the possibilities should be limitless
But, a closer scrutiny shows the thin arms failing in strength, punctured
"I'll be" has come to a halt
The possibilities limited

There is a twinkle, a shine
As a small hand clasps eagerly at colors
It is the clasp of hope
Suddenly "I'll be" is hopeful
Yes, "I'll be hopeful"
That's what "I''ll be"

Scars

She tucked in her shirt,
smoothening the crinkles as she carefully covered the lines
Lines straight...jagged and branching off
Witness to her world of pain

He climbs out of his bed,
Stands under the shower, and watches
As the rivulets of water almost skirts the crevasses on his chest
Staunch companion of the darkness that he carries

Silently, the little head looks at the mirror
A pale pink bolt of lightening streaks across the black brows
It's edgy and lumpy
Footprints of the monsters he knows are real

Standing she shifts the tank top to cover her left shoulder
Jagged, Edgy...it is "cool"
But a Tattoo it is not
Marks of crimson invasion