A Sense of Love

A Sense of Love

I did not love her for the curls of silk
on her head, cascading down like a stream,
that watered the dried out plains of my heart.
Nor was my love for the sparkle in her eyes
twinkling like the beacon from a lighthouse,
that showed my drifting soul a destiny.
I loved her not for the warmth of her smile,
radiating like an Autumn afternoon,
supple, mellow yet reinvigorating,
that healed my ageing spirit’s chronic wounds.

 

But why did I love her then, and for what?
I loved her so because she truly was
what I have always wanted my female self to be.
So loving her was like loving myself for me!


 

One Day I’ll Write A Poem

One Day I’ll Write A Poem

One day I’ll write a poem for sure,
a real poem that will take its readers down the rabbit hole,
to the place with no illusion
as the definition of sanity, set and observed
by an overwhelming majority,
no one knows whether wittingly or not!
    

One day I’ll write a poem for sure,
one whose melody will resonate with the vibration
made by the beating of its readers’ hearts
and in tune too with the frequency of their thoughts!
    

All I have and will have written until that piece,
are my humble tries to compose it,
though failing over and over again.
I hope you are keeping your fingers crossed!

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In The Mood For Love

In The Mood For Love
Dedicated to Kholood Azz,
the most beautiful human being I have met so far,
for rekindling my love in the humankind!

In the shadows a violin comes to life.
The sadness from her sustained agonies
seeps into the wilderness of my heart.
The flash of memories, both old and new,
at my door returns, like a long lost friend
and I wonder if I am dying at last!

   

I can feel the soft wailing of the strings
ravaging through my organs from inside,
annihilating me like Nirvana.
Then I knew, with a shudder and a heave,
from my wild cravings to be at your side
what being in the mood for love truly means!

    

I grow weary of my existing form,
what good has this human shape done so far!
Wish I could have been the gentle wind instead,
blowing inland from middle earth’s northern shore
and softly play with your cascading locks,
as you look up at the evening star!

    

Being a nimbus cloud too would have sufficed
and float towards my destiny, against
the rotation of the earth on its poles
to hold you with my shadows from the sky,
when the sun is too rude on your sacred face
and drown your sorrows in the joy of rain!

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By Time

By Time

By the cold ticking hands of time I swear,
I have never held a grudge against anyone
save myself, my bitter self, too eager
always, to rectify and looking for the sun
even within the heaviest, darkest cloud!

   

By the unforgiving hands of time I promise,
there shall not be a tremor at my heart
for anything even a little less than what is
the origin of all the things and love,
anymore, I swear, so you’d better have no doubt!

  

By the ever gyrating hands of time I guarantee
this time around no well would ever cascade into springs!
I am the garden, unseeded, whose flowers’ knell has been rung,
fading away. So, break my heart for I must hold my tongue!

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For The Rain

For The Rain
Watch and Listen to a Reading of the Poem by me.

 

The wind once more smells of the distant sea,
as last night’s petrichor bemoaned a hazy dream.
In that dream I saw palaces succumb
to the inevitable beats of time’s ancient drums,
almost like a metaphor of my life,
churning white foam in the throes of a foolish strife!
   

For the rain I throw my windows ajar
and let the cascading drops trace my benumbed skin,
it never fails to make me remember
those monsoon days when I was alive with a dream!  
    

Is that the wind’s groan I hear all around
or my heart’s refusal to accept destiny?
How much do I owe my life to that sound,
I must know for once and all to set myself free!

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