Wearisome days

Black and white stripes
Of dilapidated images
Lie juxtaposed
And reflected on my retina.
Seeming to me,
Like a delusional chimera.
Bland , vacuous sketches
In a vision splattered
With wishy-washy reveries.
The colours have drained,
Leaving behind mere traces
That moan in solitude,
Jostling amongst each other
Wanting to make
That little streak of colour
Last for just another moment,
On a wearisome day.

Advertisement

Deep within.

The unabating cry
Of an outlying cricket
Invades the stillness
Of a monsoon night.

Sweet cacophony
Fills the airspace
Quietly summoning
A mellifluous cloudburst.

Hounds of melancholy
Strengthen their shields
And sharpen blades
In perpetual obstinacy.

In the distrait ambit
I see a flourish too bright
Like stars caught
In a cast net.

A breath of damp soil
Plunges into my nostrils
Leaving a dewy freshness
On my curved lips.

A cry breaks the tranquility
Of the morose nighttime.
My soul awakens to the
Plea that I realise has come from
Deep within.

Of stars and glory.

Sorrows sweep o’er the grassy plains
And the summer unfolds,
In a ferocity so surreptitious
Like a rattlesnake among the bushes
Lost in a daze of pursuit.
Yonder the zephyr
Twists and turns in immaculate
Chutzpah;
A pacifier of a cold night;
Wrath of the day.
When the sun rests beneath
The saffron horizons,
The world awakens
To an untold dream
Of stars and glory.

-Varina

Dusk

The day wears off
Summoning the dusk
With its smell of wilted
Jasmines;
And a hue of orange
Luminescence
That paints us all
In its loving embrace.

Child of dreams

It lay there
Among the debris
Of yesterday;
Breathing heavily with
Tightly shut eyes,
Cold and forgotten.

A pile of white
Shrouded hastily neat.
A thin layer of flannel
Obscuring its limp body
In a trashed mould.

A cry rose into the night
Stirring the impregnated silence;
Leaves shook, twigs broke free,
Rivers ceased flowing,
Chaos grew like the west winds.

Subtle as the night sky,
The brown skin glowed,
And the folks paid heed.
They rubbed its tiny feet
And kissed it clean,
Naming it: ‘The child of dreams’.

The silent rhythm

The curtains flow
In response to a blowing wind
Overlapping the folds
Ducking beneath each other
Swaying merrily
And unfolding an exquisite
Paisley dream.
Inebriated with the silent rhythm,
I summon a good night’s sleep.

Night sky

Solemn stars in the night sky
Like a dotted dream
On a stretch of azure;
Creamy overcast.
A sparkle of young grey
On the horizons
Merging with the mainstream
In a fit of frenzy.
Yonder, I see the bolt
Of electric blue;
In a fleeting second, it’s gone
And replaced
With the pouring staccato
Of rainfall on my roof.

Marionette of your dreams

My arms ache with the weight
Of the emotions
I’ve gathered;
Long years of togetherness
Kiss my feet
With a hushed goodbye.
The fiery scent
Of woody musk you
Fancied
Stings me over and over
Again; I give up.
You blew neat
Sawdust into my
Irreproachable vision-
Yet, you guffawed, a laugh
So deep and vexatious;
It still pounds in my ears.
The church bells ring;
It’s the time of atonement.
Do you hear?
The garden lilies have
Spoken them all
In one full servile sway,
The words you failed to me.
You spat and tainted my soul
With words of dishonor.
I waited.
You overlooked what brought
You to me in the first place.
L.o.v.e.
I feel dark and tenebrous.
No, those overcast skies
Are no more delightful.
They moan
Like you and I do.
Tonight, when I stand against
The might of the storms-
I shall liberate myself
From the solicitude ,if any,
I have towards you.
Because, until then
I shall continue to be
The marionette of your dreams.

Summer

The humid taste

Of the summer weather

Lingers surreptitiously

in the air;

Scalding my senses

In a desire so relentless

And insatiable.

My skin has grown coarse

Without your touch;

My vision obscure

And my tongue grazes

The palate in solitude.

I hear oblivion

Pounding wildly…

I i-n-h-a-l-e and

E-x-h-a-l-e the sullen

Wafting sentiments of

What you and I

Did last summer…

Chaos

Under the incessant
Churn of the fan blades,
I found turmoil
Growing like hyacinths
In the pit of my soul
Inebriated by the moist
Tears that I failed to shed.
They crept at night,
And sprinted during the day
All over my skin
In calculated precision;
And it was then I realised
In the heat of that moment
That-
Chaos had found
A new dwelling in me…