War inside my head

Stolen moments,
out of his and her life,
are at war.
no its not a battle,
its unceasing,
bleeding of the soul.
wailing wind whistles shrilly,
singing his pyrrhic victory song.
wearing the moments wreath,
he walks away,
leaving not a trail,
which she can follow.




You have changed, I think,
But I am no one to judge,
for better or for the worse.
not even allowed to ponder,
because in my hands it was not.

Not to judge,
you taught me well,
You knew you would change,
and drift apart
being judged is not what you would want.

Cannot tag you as bad,
blot you as wrong,
Tell me,
how am I supposed to forget
the past gone.

“I am responsible for you”,
You said once,
Yes, for all the pain you are responsible,
really responsibly,
you did play that part.

So responsibly that the only pain I felt,
was not from the path of thorns,
or from bruises of the world,
but from whispers of my help,
echoed back from the dark oblivion you were now part of.

Tale of survival

I flounder on the road,
my feet bleeding and soul crying.
Turning back I see the golden road left behind,
fleeting away in some other lifetime.

With vanquishing hope and despairing sighs,
I trudge along the path of burning splinters.
Searing pain reverberating in my head like a scream,
simmering to break out yet unable to find its way.

I doubt I can bear this long,
my strength failing as I move along.
Fire in my heart refuses to extinguish,
veiling me from flagrance around.

As numbness prevails I keep lulling,
about the happy days inside my head .
Till each fibre of in my body joins in the chorus
singing the ballad to keep moving ahead.

I still keep walking, tears flow down like raindrops
extinguishing the burning splinters below,
Cooling the path and fecundating the ground ,
nips of grass shooting from below.

Barefoot I tread not floundering this time ,
feeling the soft green grass blades glazed with due drops,
moistening the music of my soul sucking the numbness away,
soothing the burns of the journey long gone.

Turning back I see the burning road left behind,
fleeting away in some other lifetime,
only to realize that the struggle was worth the find,
the peace of the greens is better than the shimmer of the golden tiles.


Soliloquy of Sadness


Symphony of sounds futilely rushing through numb veins,

Smell of mud after the rain reminds of distant memoirs lost in pain.

Scrumptious savory food gone bland without  salt ,

Scintillating moonlight fills no love lorn vault .

Softly Blowing spring wind chills the wailing heart,

Serenity of the distant sun lit mountains reflects melancholy so stark.

Starry shining sky staring down dimming the hope,

Soft sea Sand in hands slipping away beautiful moments tied in tight tide ropes…

PS: This poem was written in one of my most morose moods, but it served its purpose right ! :)

Bereaved in Blithe

Blazing fireplace in its glory bright ,

bids darkness away from the line of sight.

Beyond the room I still stand still,

bracing the looming shadows,

brooding over my silhouette on the wall.

Bearing bunch of belief staggering trepidations standing tall,

breach is what I am scared of above all.

Burning wait burdening bereaved heart,

beseech brevity of blithe life.