Fresco!

I take a step

Forward!

Randomness unfurls

The soil beneath my feet erodes

And the crust collapses

Some thoughts lay strewn

In the path, clenched

In the metamorphosis

Of sweat into tears

And vice-versa

Some dreams

Fading out 

In the bleached sky

Some shrill silences

Filling the cracks

The cracks commencing

From a place

I call home.

The doors were closed

Years ago

The curtains drawn

To let not enter

Even a drop of moan

Ah! I stopped moaning

Long ago

The place

Is now like a painting

On old canvas

In oil and pastel

Earthy!Earthy brown

In the base coat

Rendered with strokes

Brushes!

Of all thickness used

And the window

From where

I used to peep outside

To greet the morn

Has turned into

A silent, frozen lake

Some voices sleep inside

Some giggles have been stoned

Some books still lie

Unread. tilted on the bookshelf

And the chimney persistently

Spews an aroma

Of belonging

The still painting

The dead lake

The mute chimney

The sleeping memories

All framed together

fresco!

I take a step

Again!

Dusks

The mighty yellow

Melting in scarlet fog!

Tad purple and grey

Losing subsistence!

Life beyond life

Metamorphosing!

Evolution?

Figment of imagination?

The question of belief remains..

A Winter Lullaby

The green water drops,
Lying placid,
On the suede petals,
Of a white, water lily.

The night sings a lullaby,
And the droplets recede;

Towards the kernel,
To rest in peace.
And sleep mutely,
Amongst the anthers;

Waiting to disperse,
To lose its being;

To move on,
In an eternal slumber,
And dwell endlessly,
In the Lily’s heart;

It’s almost,
The last quarter,
Of the cold and windy,
December night!

It sings a lullaby again,
Melancholic like the lost love;

This time for the white lily;
Fighting with the arctic wind,
Till the last,
Frozen breath sways;

Eventually, to slip inside;
The unfathomable womb,
Of the dead frozen lake;
And close the doors of petals;

For the next morning’s,
Virgin dew drops!

To make love eternally,
With those green water drops,
Curled inside its satin petals,
Inside the misty lake;

For all the endless nights,
Winter brings on its wings.

The post is inspired by the picture above, specially the flowy petals and the mystic beauty residing in the frame.

"Beauty"

Once someone asked me, “What’s the most beautiful thing that you have done in your life?”, and I really could not think of an answer to that simple question. Today when I trace back to the same question, which not only asks about the idea of beauty for an individual but also the meaning of a very abstract noun called “beauty”, I realize how naive are we when we actually try getting into the realms of beauty, whether it be mental, physical or beyond both and try to quantify the limitless.

Isn't beauty as boundless as the thoughts coming to a free mind with no strands of inhibitions we generally carry about people? I remember reading Arundhati Roy, “The God of Small Things” where “Ammu” makes forbidden love with “Velutha”. An upper caste divorcee, “Ammu” and the untouchable, “Velutha”, meet in the obscurity of the dark in the verity of their love, to denounce the inhibitions of an esteemed society which just devours on the idiosyncrasy of two people with no other crime committed than being in “Love”.

For me, they are just two people in love, not bound by anything else than the same.
This is beauty for me!

And the most beautiful thing I have ever done in my life, is being in arms of the person, I had a lot of inhibitions about, which I finally let go off, to come to a state of mystic beauty, where I felt being like the wind touching and caressing the lone beechnut tree aimlessly and shamelessly!

For the Lost "Love"

Most times in our life, we do not understand what love is? And what it entails. The biggest problem happens in the part where we are easily alluded into thinking that we love ourselves, we preach the concept of being the best and thinking so; while lacking awareness as to what do we love about us, why do we love, how do we love and we leave those questions aside and thus our reasons for the same. Then we start being with people, and issues and conditions start applying, this should be thus and that should be thus. The problem happens since we do not love ourselves, we also do not find any reason to love someone else or things around us. The mind wants to change everything, and while what change is required is unknown except for as long as it is the way we want. Someday we start loving ourselves, fully and completely and a lot of things start looking beautiful. Things we could not imagine before start happening and while we do not understand what is happening, the right or wrong but we know one thing, this is me who is doing it and I am loving it.

I started loving the person inside me a long ago, the me who was beautiful, amazing, special, sometimes beyond the comprehension of most, and capable of loving someone in a manner where nothing stayed important except the idea of love.

However, today I stand broken at the threshold of that love for which I gave myself, I loved myself.

For “destiny” is cruel!

Surreal

Fall has marked its advent!

Hopefully,

The hummingbirds have,

Preened the feathers.

And are set to soar,

High, up in the sky.

A flight of freedom!

A perch of delight!

All emblematic of,

The weaponry.

Beauty and Exemption,

Vigor and energy!

Or, a depletion less trajectory!

Take me along,

Not to the winter-blooming gardens!

Rather, further down, further away,

Crossing the Nevada, take me,

Up till the strange pathway!

Straight down the winding,

Valley of Mexico.

Into the long lost kingdom,

Of Aztecs!

I will be reborn!

As a warrior, of the sun-god!

My wings in gold and crimson

Bringing back the civilization.

I will forge ahead.

On the bosom,

Of this new land!

Rising from the ruins,

Of everything lost and forgotten.

Of everything beautiful once

I will be born-again!

In the summers of Nevada,

To the glory of hummingbirds!

Like a hummingbird!

Venom

It lies still and placid,
Between the folds of thy heart!
Like a foetus, sleeping secure
In a mother's womb.

The way the sky nests,
The winds in its palms.
It dwells in the realms,
Of those grainy eyes.

Like the water, getting dyed,
In the hue of the unknown.
It metamorphoses, itself
In thy name and form.

How strange it is!
Pain!
With no particular name,
Only !pain begets pain!

Purple Rouge

Purple!

What’s so beautiful?

In this!

Neither mine,

Nor the color,

Of anything,

I ever had!

Neither mesmerizing,

Nor the color,

Of anything,

That I have dreamt of!

Bold!

Jarring!

Crude!

A color!

With no melody,

In it’s hitherto,

Pigments!

Still so close to me,

It is the color

Of the only Sparkle!

I had touched once.

A sparkle in My eyes,

Seen as a double

In yours!

I still,

Remember!

It’s your favorite,

For no rhyme and reason.

And I willingly,

Carry this color.

In my eyes,

Even when you are gone.

The beaded neck-piece,

The messy stilettos,

The flashy loops,

The kitschy nail-paint!

The miss you card,

The pretentious smile,

The flashy tears,

The shattered me!

All losing themselves,

In the deluge,

Of something,

Never mine!

Always your’s,

Huh! Only your’s,

The color,Purple!

Tell me!

A non sense scribble

On a thrown

Piece of paper

I am!

A directionless

Rivulet, cut off

From the river

I am!

A melancholic song

Sung by

A demented oscine

I am!

A wind chime

With no music

And no motion

I am!

A dictionary

Whose words

Render no meaning

I am!

But what are you?

Raw

Details!

Spun in all the objects,

Describing life,

Connecting life.

Details!

So unimportant,

Adding just another,

“Thing” again;

Details!

So pretentious,

Luring, ah! alluring,

Incubating under brassy wraps;

Details!

They call finesse,

Adding silhouette,

To this vaporizing form;

Details!

Trying to catch,

Beauty in manual forms,

Mere tawdry!

Details!

I want no more,

Give me something,

Not elaborate;

Give me something,

Simple!

Uncivilized!

Bare!

Beautiful!

Give it!

Raw!