The stars I gaze through window
and dreams I capture in night,
I feel you around me
when a poem is in my sight.
Old days bonded on the string of memory
and the torn pages of the book I lost.
I guess seasons using words from your mouth
and the wars I pray for when I defeat a ghost.
The story I folded in the handkerchief
and the planes I flew with a string.
I walk copying the steps of your shadow
and hear the silence of the breath you sing.
Oh! What a Day I had
when I slept in night.
Rare of the rarest thought
blinded the exhausted plight.
Smelly mornings and stinking hours
I have to carry around.
Invisible people to see
and their tiring sound.
Working to sacrifice the
only life that I got.
No other plans I have,
but only the regrettable thought.
Socks in the alarm clock
tell me my path.
All day and night I cry,
and have a teary bath.
Look around and see the wishes
floating on your way.
I sold my words to time,
and now I don’t have any say.
OK. OK. OK.
I got it what you think.
You think I lost it,
and do not know how to blink.
Let me think again
for one more time.
Hug someone, who
is giving you a rhyme.
Let us see my old friend,
who died a day before yesterday
in a lonely park
due to wisdom unutilized,
Smell the faintness of disease,
hear the defeat of a soul in a war,
see the pages left blank in the notebook of dry leaves.
The life of selfishness lives on the sand beneath your feet.
Feet that are old, wrinkled, and tired
due to walking in a storm of
frustration, delay, and wait
of some one,
to be arrived on any day.
Whiteness of the black color
in the sun around the corner
of my home,
sells dream of sympathy,
compassion, and love.
Let us see your old friend,
who became a king
when you were stuck in
defining the blankness around.
The time of possibility
in the impossibility
down the line.
(Image Courtesy: http://imgur.com/gallery/yOswBLG)
The winter is over and sun has dried,
you slept every time I thought you tried.
Songs of journey that I kept on your desk,
they never followed me or my profound side.
Happier times multiplied the long day,
more I prayed, more you lied.
Let us meet our death like an angel of our dreams,
solved mysteries and secrets open wide.
Wrinkled hope and sniffing sorrow look beautiful together,
dear tell me a place for my fears to hide.
(Image Courtesy: Hygain)
When I told you the fallacy
of the life,
You looked around for years you had
So that was something which I would not have predicted.
The selfishness, jealousy and you envying me.
The printed words in the newspaper and the seldom talking radio,
both of them are liar I hired when I had visited loneliness.
Smelling me like a child through your eyes,
telling me the way to dream,
and blessing me once again with your teeth,
wasn’t that one year old thing.
I walk everyday to reach towards the seconds you left behind,
snaking through the world that I believed lived near my town.
“OK”, I said.
You said “You are such a charm, I will miss your face”.
(Image Coustesy: MKM Photography)
Here comes the rain of my first winter without you,
I am wet from head to toe with your remembrance.
Here comes the first chilly night without you covering me like a quilt,
and my trembling body in an ugly shape.
Last days of future are like pine trees,
they are never ending.
Moist eyes on a paper of words kept thinking about your first smile,
you passed it to me
when I was still
(Images courtesy: Filter magagzine)
Do you know that poets are strange people?
They eat loneliness and write feelings unheard about.
They sleep with yesterday and future, but present is always in fight with them.
They never win any battles or any beloved ones or any medals anywhere.
They just keep on fighting with the devil inside them.
They are very lazy, lazy like any summer.
That’s the reason they don’t have any girlfriends or boyfriends.
Last night I got stuck somewhere in this part of the letter.
I am still stuck here.
If you can find me a way, just let me know.
A Poet in sleep, who loves laziness
(Image taken from Lovely etc)