Meet me in July

One of those silly little things I feel like writing when it rains. The pitter-patter of raindrops creates a natural rhythm and some words just fall into place. I am not too good at rhyming and often clueless to throw one word after another...but somedays there is a broken song, beautiful in its swaying away from perfection. It's not a good poem and it's not according to meter, it doesn't follow any rules. It's a little of this a little of that...somehow I feel guilty about writing poetry, especially verse that rhymes. Still, somedays I should allow myself the luxury of posting something totally useless.

Just like that, learning to say my goodbye's better...

---

No sooner than I fell in love with you

It was the time to say goodbye

I could tell you, I never fell in love with the city
May be you would actually believe my lie

As I think of you, the city blooms
The rains sing a night's silent lullaby 

I tiptoe on nights of dark, misty, grey
I reach up to kiss the cloudy sky

A thousand things to forget you for
A million things to remember you by

I wonder if you’ll ever know my friend

I love you so, but I don't know why

I'll wait for you till the monsoons end
Come, meet me one last time in July

The hyperbolic element

I am an example 

of controlled chaos.

Every element that makes me up

has a mind of it's own.

Each electron has its own maddening path.

Each desire manifested 

in some form of unbound energy.

Every voice in my head

screams out loud what it thinks.

My heart is the breeding ground

for a million diabolical conflicts.

I often wonder 

at the level of difference

between my circuits and

that of a hydrogen bomb.

An explosion in me

would trigger an atomic fusion 

devastating enough to swallow all definitions.

Merge Heaven and Hell

to create a plasma

akin to what remains after removal of blood cells

or your name from my memories...

Why do you stay a lifetime-light-years away?

I am a virgin planet.

You are the key to the code of my existence. 

Come, unravel me. 

The heart's blank verse

The city is painted in the hue of your memories
sounds echo still, every note intact.
The only thing alas, not synchronized with time
is my weary, pallid, broken heart.

The autumn of the evening dissolves
into melodies the sleepy bird sings.
The leaves are waiting to turn to amber
from dead tree trunks the winter springs.

I see a young girl puff a cigarette
and I trace my fingers for traces of you.
My eyes turn mellow like shriveling cinders
the smoke doesn't let any dream through.

The sun recedes to the hollow of your palm
it's last ray kisses the shore goodbye.
Sea waves run like madness on a high tide
a lonely moon utters a lonely sigh.

Do footsteps actually sound like cymbals
or mind plays tricks with the trickling rain?
That world is tangentially apart from ours
in which you said, you'll come again.

I can't put together the mosaic of your face
nor recreate the way you call my name.
Just wait and in waiting pet these words
the wildest ones just love can tame.

The city paint peels and memories fade
in the blank vacuum, all echos depart.
The only thing still, not synchronized with time
is my hoping, dreaming, waiting heart.

Autumn evenings

It's a very strange pain
that blossoms in my heart
like a three and a quarter petal orchid

A faint scent of violet, indeed
Oh...the fragrance of a colour
changes the way my evenings feel

The walls bleed music
of a thousand years past
stories of a lute and a trombone and you

I see you humming to yourself
and the stage of the world burns
ashes clog the flow of time for eternity

You paint my thoughts
the hue of your lips
I become a muddy pool of blue

You have ink in your veins
the moon is a blank sheet of paper
Love...an inevitable piece of poetry

You won't know those evenings...

And ever since
the river flowed
wordlessly
across the gentle plains,
in her heart
a lilting lullaby
silenced forever.
---
The evenings
forgot the melody
of homecoming.
Migratory birds
died en-route
thirsty, lonely and loveless
---
Some grave
was razed to nothingness
to ease my soul's
breaking the repertoire
of past births.
---
To create
nothingness
from chaos
is insanity.
---
Mute the pain.
Nurture a desert
within an oasis.
---
Salvation is deafening.
Each teardrop plays a note
Let it rain...let it rain...let it rain. 

Impermeable

Listen
Don't breathe
Quiet
Dead silence

A tear just
shattered
The fragments
unleash a tsunami

A limitless
depression
submerges
my existence

Words become
impermeable
gloss over
the real pain

Crude stitches
don't let me
fall apart
nor heal

Now. Wait.
I am not
reborn.
Yet.

Hope.
Pray.
And then
come back.