Sometime It Rains

Sometime It Rains

As the rain with a drizzle, unrelenting,
soaks the ground, come to me and drench my thirst!
Leave behind a wet sheen to make my soul,
like a rain soaked street, a giant reflector,
reflecting back some light to fill the scene
and glowing too with the audacity of hope!
      

Sometime it rains through the night and the dawn
is as dark as the hours that came before
and sometime the day too gets washed away
by a torrential pelting from the clouds!
     

The raindrops, falling on me as I walk,
where did they start their earthbound falling from?
Is it those dark grey clouds, crying overhead
or a dark figment of my imagination?
     

For I see no one washed and made fair by the rain
or perhaps it did but we succumbed, yet again!

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O Night, Tender Night

O Night, Tender Night

O Night, tender night, I miss the darkness
of your silent hours, when the society
is dead asleep! Introspection that shreds
myself to pieces in search of the light
demands prolonged hours of darkness in solitude!

   

Now I too must surrender to the whims
and wishes of my frail limbs, the pinnacle
of evolution, one step in front of the chimps!

   

Pity for my empty dreams I have through the night
like the rest, of belonging to a higher step
the next day; higher not ahead on a stairway
built on the whispering wind and vague promises
of a better day, at the cost of one’s neighbors’ demise!

    

As the dawn spreads across the horizon,
a darkness grows inside despite the rising sun.
Soon the forged manacle of time with its tick-tocking,
incessant, pushes me over the edge of sanity.

   

And though I know, absolute freedom too is disastrous,
amid so many shining abattoirs
on every walk of life, I am neither cruel
nor fat enough to take either roles, so I pray –
O Night, tender night, I miss growing mad the other way!

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Sonnet 275

Sonnet 275

After the wetness of the rain,
on open prairies, lush and green;
after the endless waves of sand
in the glare of a desert sun;
after the lashing of the wind
atop the foggy mountain peaks;
after the broad-leaved trees become
deciduous with rose and amber
bathing as the day’s knell is tolled –
this is who I am in the end:

An applicant who has too often failed
to get into the human club
for refusing to be a cannibal;
a global citizen,
a refugee, imprisoned
in his own motherland!

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So What: The Prologue of a Dream

So What: The Prologue of a Dream

So what, if no one is
paying heed to our unequivocal words,
in solitude we have
a chance to listen to the universe!
And trust me I swear, it is
a far more skilled partner in dialogue,
despite what we have been taught
or customs that might have come in vogue
of late, with well patronized galas,
awards and ceremonies,
often so many that
certain ignorance rather tastes like bliss!

But we wage war instead and fight
against the received social norms
to overthrow the tyranny
of tribalism’s established ways!

Yes we know, change too often comes,
riding on the meaninglessness
of shed human blood and too many lives
and revolutions, too often as well,
end up flattened beneath a guillotine.

Still, if we don’t suffer and grow
to be its fearless harbingers,
like a Winter is of the Spring,
the children of Eve and Adam,
cave dwellers for eternity,
will not see what it truly means
to become a human being first.

Until all men become half woman and
all women, half man, we cannot
and nor will we ever relent
from our pursuit of equal rights!
So what, if we are dreaming big,
human dreams ain’t supposed to be like rats’!

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