blur and part

“the people blur and part”

and i await for the words to come

a frantic search

through many no longer sticky notes

bent and creased and come apart

with scribbles, waves and loops

half brackets, slashes and arrows

and lines wobbily crossed out

all tossed aside for that one

where all that has stuck

to memory

are “the people blur and part”

a thunderous sound

the platform trembles

a whoosh of stale and mechanical air

an impatient rush, quick shuffles and speakered din

all scattered now

and stuck between the tracks

is love..it is…

is love the enjoyment of the moment hoping that it never ends?

it is the yearning for a moment that will never come…

is love saying i love you and meaning it?

it is saying i love you silently, masking its meaning from fear of any one soul hearing it…

is love knowing you should say i love you more often?

it is not being able to say it at all…

is love remembering the sweet times spent together?

it is living in the minute moments that takes a bit of you each time.

is love feeling hatred at only the moment of anger?

it is living in hatred of not being loved…

is love leaving your loved one, loved?

it is leaving without ever telling them they are loved…

is love being beside your lover at all times?

it is the pain of staying alongside and yet so far away from realization…

is love for giving up for the sake of peace?

it is giving up love for everyone’s sake but yours…

is love wanting to touch and wanting to be touched?

it is when the touch of breath upon words is enough…

is love wanting to be together always?

it is hoping to be together but knowing it is never…

tarnished

Is it Age which has tarnished this man?

loosened his tongue?
lessened his morals?
degraded his respect?
diminished his kindness?

Has wear and tear and time done its deed?

No….only that irrepressible bitterness of life
and its thorny, barren path.

Do i hate this one now?

No, not hate…after all that has gone by…

struggled and survived.

No, not hate…no, not a lot…just a little.

Ungratefulness is a nettle-laden venom
inflaming all those who are no less weaker than you.

see how selfish one is to remember:

only his errors, his faults

his stumblings-grumblings-bumblings

his wandering and oft lost thoughts…

see how my finger points…how my words sting,

even when inside i am only hurt because
i let the finger point and the words sting…

the answer is “e”

a poem scribbled out when…Yes, I was supposed to be studying…just for fun =)

such a tedious chore
to study

such a waste of time
to cram

in studying i find:

innumerable slowly nonsensical
words, terms and dreaded definitions
theories old and disproved

yet in need of dutiful memorization
concepts to be fully understood

applications to be applied
experiments to be analysed
conclusions to be reiterized

the onslaught of words turn into a maze of letters
this means this but after that it means those
no no that’s wrong

this means that but before it means this it causes one to say

WHAT???

mnemonic devices how ever clever never fully suffice

“remember the one who rewrote for the one who re-rewrote what the
other one wrote”

“no frankly i don’t…”

“what is your name?”

“i can’t recall…”

your exam is facilitated by the use
of multiple choice:

a) study, write, fail to write name

b) study, blank out, scribble, tremble, sweat, finally write on a hilarious tangent and fail

c) study, re-study, revise, summarize, write for wrong class and fail

d) all of the above

hint: the answer is always e)

 

touch upon a word

let me reach out
and touch upon a word…

a word that lets you share
that which i feel
and fail to tell
how it scars the soul

every shudder trembles
as that memorable wound is touched upon
once more….

why should you not know how it feels?

to hear the morning dew whisper
to feel the pulse of loving words
to see the heavenly sound of melodies

bitter tears shared have a sweetness of their own…

and however love may be praised it too grows jealous
of not being felt the same by all.

A Selection of the background score to the movie “Azaghi” by Ilayaraja

manic days

When there are Manic days

where hope when not cried for

glimmers slightly,

tinting lightly on the blushing horizon

Reminisce back to those heavenly times:

sweet stretches of blissful sighs.

Remember those moments

those cheery, dazey, redolently, dreamy days.

Wait…what is that?

Oh.

Only a
silly
repression.

lost eyes

lost eyes
lend a smile
that slips itself
lightly on my lips

letting me forget
the lonely world

reminding me how far away you are
and how close your sweet memory
remains with me

i shake my head
and tell myself “this is no good…”

to think of one who has
so easily forgotten
of all that has gone by

this is my downfall.

for every moment
i yearn
for you and your all

i fall into the trap
of keeping you alive…

until lost eyes

uncloud

clearly knowing

that they would rather

be blind

with the glimpses

of your once

sweet wanting.