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On life and its vagaries

Posts Tagged ‘writing

Haiku’s

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Haiku’s

1

I saw, by chance, a
Smile on a sad face; why seek
Peace in futile words

2

The rudder seems new,
The Boat, about to take off,
What ails the slow breeze

3

The skies remain veiled
After a day of dogged rain.
Mirrors seem to cloud

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To An Unknown Friend

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To An Unknown Friend

Stay a while, my friend and stranger
The day is still meandering, and there’s still time
Those drinks you had, how are they faring
Does the mind tell you where I am now, near or far
The disheveled hair on your head, is it painted
Or are you yet young at heart to outgrow the Time
The way you walk, never steady and in control,
Does that affect you in what you see
How does the world look, flat or round
Does it look twisted or covered in glamour
When do you sleep my friend, or do you not
Is there a sleep that helps you dream

The world is passing us, the children laughing
Horns honking, footwear grazing the side walks
There isn’t a thing still, all are moving

While we sit here, on this lonely bench
By the side of this antediluvian road
There are flowers blooming, lots emptying
Pans frying, fans whirling and some even hooting
Things are ever frantic, let us be not like that
Let us sit here, till the close of day
Why are you drooping, hold your head steady
We aren’t done talking, my man, you and I
That stain on your shirt, does that sting friend
Did the potion spill into your soul
Is that why you are looking at me fearfully
Don’t be frightened, I am not your darkness
I can be the light you were seeking in your nights

This drizzle, it isn’t from heaven, it’s the tears
That you and I shed together, may be not here
Nor anywhere, but still we shed them together
For we aren’t divided, we, you and I, are ever together
That sagging chest holds a thousand terrors
The drinks can’t still them, they garrote the drink
Don’t get up, you can’t yet walk, I am here my man
Though I don’t even lift a hand to make you steady
I am here still, with you all the way

Stop looking at those happy faces, embraces, and kisses
They aren’t real friend; they are off a passing show
You had partaken in that show once, as I had
They are bland, at least to us sitting here
You are now muttering assent, I see your lips move
Don’t wipe those dribbles off; they are droplets of your pain
You aren’t wagging your head to the music now
Are you, the music stall across is what this is all about
Noise, more noise, there isn’t a lapse to the noise
It blares day and night, winter and summer, burial and birth

She could be your girl, the one approaching
I see I was right, she isn’t happy with me
And is abusive towards you, you are doing great, old girl
He is drowning in your love; we were having a nice talk
About just that and he was doing good
Now you cart him away, with bitter looks at me

Fare thee well my friend, you can’t drink
This sorrow away, for it has claws of steel.

“………………………..”

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“………………………..”

Denizens of the underworld rooting for his life is a dormant psyche’s mistaken and muted wail.
Before hand
By a mind tortured to the extreme by inner conundrums -with the imprint of harsh reality on fantasies and ever reducing the zest to live, combating gips were being thrown out in the guise of barely fine-spun imagery.
Those were gruesome, and never ever were handsome, aiming to center on the not so winsome. Quips created to while away the ever ascending OF terrors of life.

By the macabre purchase of quaint expressions brave the world?
By and by that domain was overtaken by inanition.

Crossing A River

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The Original Story

 

“Two mendicants, having taken a vow of celibacy

 Were about to cross a river

 

A pretty lass was about to do the same

But was looking with fear at the rushing waters

 

The young mendicant suggested that

 One of them carries her across

 

The old guy said:

 

Son, we have taken a vow

Of celibacy, we can’t do such things

 

The other Said:

 

We have only taken

A vow of not marrying, not one of Not Carrying

 

The old guy Said:

 

 Do what you will

 

The three got across and went their ways

 

After a while the old guy grumbled:

Yet you shouldn’t have done that:

 

The young one responded:

 

I deposited her on the shore itself

Strangely you seem to be still carrying her!”

 

 

 

( This was the old tale. Yet what happened was this):

 

The Real Story

 

The old guy

Seeing the younger one quite set on carrying her across

And grasping the dangers of bodily contact

Volunteered to carry her saying:

 

 Just watch our rear, when we are in the waters

 

They proceeded thus to the other side

The girl turning her head to look at the boy often

And the boy blushing when their eyes met

 

Water being a fine conductor of nervous energy

Their rapport was instantaneous

 

At the far side, after thanking the old man

They both took off together

 

The old guy, watching them disappear

In the distance, mused:

 

When you carry something precious

You either don’t put it down

Or you make sure that it stays yours

Before doing so

Touch of Dew

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Touch of Dew

While young, some girl brought me

A blade of grass with

A glistening dewdrop at its end

It looked like a drop of pearl ….

  

She said:

 

Sam, it’s so cool to the touch, you know,

Can I touch it to your eye?

  I had doubts on its coolness and

My ‘coolness’ in allowing such a silly thing

Yet being kind, I said hesitantly:

“Go ahead then”

 

And that touch of dew over my iris

Altered my way of seeing things…..

 

I don’t know where she is now

But I know she changed my life

Two Sights

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Two Sights

1

Something is  green in the grass

Yet it isn’t  really true

It’s only a cute little word I found

2

Two people are carrying something

It’s a little dead snake

Their time is past noon, fast fading

Buried Hills

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Buried Hills

Now

As I prepare to say goodbye

To this land of hills and the ephemeral showers

I feel a deep sense of ennui

Everything feels grey, and without glitter

The green leaves seems to have lost their luster

The valley’s their life

This mist in the pass itself looks like a smog

That shrouds everything pleasant

And appears to releases an unhealthy vapor

Of mistrust and tastelessness

 

I stayed here for couple of long years

Shedding my sweat on these roots of grass

And trying to tend a few shoots upward even

Praying that things would change-

For the better in this land of the forsaken

 

I didn’t know

About the curse this land had

Of having ever to bog down to the shadow

Of a distant and disturbing past

The memories it carries of muted pains

And violated lives, both of plants and the moving

The hovering thoughts over the plateau

Of mistrust to the visiting life

 

The other visitors to this land, unlike me, had

Intuited this fact the moment they alighted here

They opted to play the role of disinterested visitors

And were saved by that very fact

I erred in not doing so, and carry the regret

Still with me as I say bye to these buried lands