Silent Screams

The walls of asylum,

hum a song of silence,

etched in their bricks.

There are people within these walls,

misfits in the world.

Many came,
fewer went,

some stayed,

in silent screams of pain,

unheeded by the world.

But, the walls of asylum

know these silent screams.

For dVerse

The City

This city

with countless people

like stars

some dim

some bright

some dying

never sleeps

Its voices

like waves

rise/fall

lost in

deep ocean

heard

unheard

City-roads

like serpents

drink lives

no mercy

no plea

life

dead

Road-lights

like moths

search brightness

ultimate

untimed

death

flicker

This city never sleeps,

its voices unheard,

city-roads dead,

road-lights flicker.

Blessings

As I lay on the forest floor, 

gazing at the starry sky,

I wonder about the blessings,

                 ~that are numerous,

                   than the stars passing by.

The sodden forest ground,

the smell of ferns and fronds,

chirping night voices,

~ earth's blessings,

   and bond,

   with creatures roaming along.

Soft brumal winds,

their tinkling hints,

snowflakes floating around,

jewels of wintry crown,

~ seasonal blessings,

   lovingly,

   showered down.

What Dreams Are made Of?

Ask a child what dreams are made of?

For a child,

Dreams are dipped in chocolate and marmalade,

A yummy sweet candy and uncountable holidays.

Ask a bird what dreams are made of?

For a bird,

Dreams are seeds, spread lavishly,

A cage free life, flying refreshingly.

Ask a youth what dreams are made of?

For a youth,

Dreams are conquering the impossible,

Rising towards the sky unstoppable.

Ask an old man what dreams are made of?

For an old man,

Dreams are nothing, but scattered imaginations,

For him they are just whims and fascinations.

Ask a wanderer what dreams are made of?

A wanderer,

Dreams of a perfect world,

A world welcoming all, where truth unfurls.

Who Is Who?

Oh! Great Saints,

my mind hurts in vain,

heal my soul,

relieve me from this pain,

and the questions unanswered…………….

We dance to the universal rhythms,

the cosmic vibrations we unknowingly follow,

thinking of them as our great endeavours.

Everything is set,

the pattern, the path, the words,

we merely step on them,

and consider as our chosen world.

Call it hard work, luck or destiny,

we fail, we rise, we do what we do,

and name it our will.

But, who is pulling the strings?

Who is the master puppeteer?

The one with the trident?

Or

Our mind’s own fallacies?

{Note: In Hinduism, God Shiva holds Trident.}

Aquamarine Gem

Soothing,

glittering,

calming the blues,

                               ~ a gift from Neptune.

                                      

Gem of,

good luck,

everlasting youth,

                               ~ a blessed truth.

For dVerse poets pub

Feed Me the Words

Oh! these words,

travel through the world.

A pilgrimage they make,

passing oceans, skies and lakes.

What panoramic scenes we know,

if words are not to flow.

                      a gamboling kitten,

                      a solitary lighthouse,

                      a volery of birds.

What paradisiac nature we see,

if words are not set free.

                       the auriferous sun,  

                       the fluvial contours,

                       the humongous hills.

Words are what - the mirabilia of this world.

So, feed me the words. 

Silence

Underneath percolating rain drops in sand beneath  dew drops rolling down the leaf blades among playful waves of roaring oceans there’s  deep silence only heard by a heart calm within

In The Stillness Of Night

In the stillness of night

I wander far away

                               from painful realities

searching for a perfect world

with a perfect beginning

                                           and a perfect ending.

In the stillness of night,

I am not a body

                           but a lost soul

a soul lost

                    in the stillness of night………………

Flying On The Edges Of Time

Flying on the edges of time

moving through the tunnels of memoirs

a soul traverses the universe

sometimes it is a wounded bird

trying to reach the skies

sometimes it is a fragile butterfly

fluttering in the woods

bound to tides of emotions

like the cord of a kite

it flies and flies .........

Photograph by Phil Slade

Summer Sunshine

All the cozy- tender things,

from the summer field I gather,

some sparkling rays, petals of spring,

and a few down feathers.

I weave them into a soft shawl,

gently adorning emotions pure,

it’ll warm your winter whole,

with hopeful promises to assure.

Securely tuck it in your heart,

love and affection will fill inside,

warmness exudes its every part,

soft prayers within strands hide.

Solitude

Edvard Munch "The Girl in the Window"  1893

All my emotions pour into you,

everything seems surreal.

No one I need,

just your thoughts I wish to heed.

I bow and listen to the quietness of dark,

silently losing myself.

Peace in heart and mind prevails,

off to far seas I sail.

Calmness of night holds me too tight,

its stillness sings a lullaby.

Clinching steadily onto memory’s veil I stand,

this solitude absorbs me in, as dunes of sand.

A Shepherd Girl

She wore a ribbon in her hair.

I asked ,"Who are you and going where?"

She said," she is the daughter of a shepherd and going to give him tea."

I asked'"where is your father's goat shed?"

She said'" above the hill and below the moon lies my father's goat shed."

Her father called her with a howl.

She quickly ran away with the tea bowl.

But I wanted to stay with her.

For she was as white as snow and as sweet as a rose.