Go away, silly one

Go away, silly one, that don’t know of loss,

dub yourself loser, leave joker, laughter not here,

wailed a lady in crowd, all noise did pause,

now clad colourful, old black dresses didn’t smear;

I spoke, I lost but a dream, not living, loving soul,

came not to mourn or share, yet I do care,

gone days of joy, nights of sleep, dreams stole,

gone thunder, rain, rainbow and lighting’s glare;

what desert, as gone the sand beneath my feet,

gone breeze, even mighty sea without time to see,

gone sweet home, now a thorn, my last retreat,

no refuge, no place known to shelter, nowhere to flee;

innocence lost, ignorance cost, spoilt forecast, time flew fast,

gone courage, morals, little laurels, tears and laughter,

gone stories, movies, idle banter, carefree canter of past,

know not where all went, my life spent, grew softer;

pride, confidence, dreams gone with skill and wisdom,

never lost any near and dear, just lost an empty dream,

not compare losses, my misery trifle, akin to boredom,

you lost forever, loved ones, to death, time’s stream;

music, song, poems and prose scribbles died long ago,

forgot drinks, dinners, friends with just cigarette in hand,

didn’t love a soul, lost none, yet your grief with me grow,

despite troubles and sorrow, your feet planted firm on land;

for you love and so live, I merely forgive, you strive, you give,

give your thought and action calmly to those that remain,

those gone, a strong memory, you forever mourn and grieve,

parent, sibling, child or friend, leave void, stain uncleared by strain;

but folks enshrined in history to pavement dweller has to leave,

all love, except vile like me that can’t, from terrorist to rapist,

even I can’t deny being loved, a love that can’t be worn on sleeve,

gone sun, stars, days and nights, not the memory in our midst;

cherish memory with tears or laughter,

dead find lease in your memories, yet how long,

perish with you, you a memory, ones in your’s, lost chapter,

no matter, unsought immortality, till lasts hear love’s song;

Go away confused one, come when know what you want, what to say,

let us in peace pray, why without clarity or purpose, you here stray?

(This is partly done and shall be continued in future posts)






Ate Soul, hunger for fame

Ate soul, hunger for fame, well known name,

pained yet jumped for it shameless low,

not anymore, calm without regret, quit the game,

gained peace, sweet release, normalcy show;

cyberworld eased need for sharing,

does it matter, one view or a million,

for there is skill daring in soul baring,

when giants given space who deny minion;

truly free now, not just me but writings too,

joys galore to be had scribbling in reckless abandon,

now, alone relish bizarrely tasty stew I brew,

gentler winds in my world where nothing undone;

won’t believe there is great joy withdrawing from success,

yet there’ll be a day the world slows from Tokyo to Texas.

Oh, my cute, loving, little daughter

Oh, my cute, loving, little daughter of dreams,

how light, easily I pick you up to toss you in air,

you smile dwarfing beauty of golden sunbeams,

gentle hand on head, forever be in my hair;

constantly change your diapers and wash you clean,

am not a kid playing house all innocent and ignorant,

but dutiful father on whom you can forever lean,

a reliable friend, my soul all yours, never a tyrant;

joyful when I see other kids but soon they go home,

none to take home except you a painful wish unfulfilled,

to see you real will cross seven seas or forever hell roam,

daughter is all I ask, easily granted all, why me thus billed?

defeated, what can I do? Poor me, unfit for marriage,

if only could immaculately conceive and quell my rage.



Cute Dimpled Daughter

Cute dimpled daughter of my dreams,

heed not the world and never cry,

never be serious it will tear your seams,

never aspire, perspire or try for anything high;

forget the fools around and forever relax,

you are your own world, the one that matters,

this dawns at end, enjoy each moment to the max,

ambitions, work, purpose, all myth that scatters;

be selfish, accept love but love yourself most,

love isn’t a duty but a joy to cherish so never strive,

can’t escape pain, discerningly share till becomes toast,

be tempestuous, moody, but test waters before dive;

Oh, dear daughter don’t ache but live for this daddy,

judged unfit by the world to even be a caddie.


Out from home

Out from home on a walk, lost in thoughts, lost my way,

darkest hour of night when skies hide and owls sleep,

a failure I was, not knowing my backyard even at day,

cursed like me to hang in a limbo the skies did weep;

drenched to bone was the perilous journey worth it,

to catch a fair lady said to show now by the rail track,

sure was her that haunted my dreams and waking wit,

accepting defeat if I turned now chance to be safely back;

frightened by the strange apparition none approached,

only me with the vision can near what experts can’t,

two paths, forward seeking treasure none broached,

or back to safety, head bowed, burying forever heart’s want,

both paths agonising for a meandering dreaming novice like me,

chose to let someone find me, relinquishing ability to ever be free.


Tonight to escape

Tonight to escape tortuous torment I accept humiliating defeat,

crushed, I hope not to redeem my pitiable self tomorrow,

I shall not claim or try to accomplish any glorious feat,

just leave this crumpled paper to float with least sorrow;

contentment is nearby and treacherous aspirations must fly,

a chicken can dream but can never soar like an eagle,

but to be fair this solitary bird was never the one to cry,

despite pains been faithful to world and fun like dog beagle,

to be mature, calm and be respected this worm should try;

all said and done what is the fuss about success or even life,

the soaring eagle shall surely perish as this wriggling worm,

is there a reason or lofty purpose for all our ambitious strife,

loser’s whine or sagely counsel from a failure’s humble calm;

what if I fail before expectant world’s eyes or my own desire,

if I don’t fail inside and can rest myself dousing that inner fire.




New Outlook

I, like the proverbial frog in a well, thought myself to be intelligent and good at writing, especially poems. Far too early I spied on other works and gleaned that they were far too superior. But I felt envy and rage and denial back then. Forgive me I am a child at heart, someone not grown in to an adult yet as my brother often pointed out. This time though when I came across brilliant verses I enjoyed it immensely. The aftermath was not envy or disappointment or self loathing instead it too was joy. I was overjoyed to have witnessed such beauty that springs from the human minds. I consider myself a novice or apprentice of sorts. For the new found joy some credit must go to the magic weavers who made me feel at home and welcome by their visits and encouragements to my humble verses.

It might not have anything to do with that at all. May be today I woke up on the right side of bed. What it was, was a new outlook on life.  I used to be the soul of a party. To us middle class Indians party means chugging a few drinks over the table or having a hearty dinner. Anyway friends loved me for I was an incredibly fun person. There was humorous banter and I didn’t mind and in fact did make myself intentionally the subject of simple minded laughter. But there must be people for there to be laughter. I was isolated except for limited company at odd times. In short I was alone. The school and college buses were gone. Gone the days of innumerable friends and endless joy. My friends now can be counted in my fingers. Life happened and made me lose touch with friends. I got down from the work bus after a very short time. That is about to change with the opening of my restaurant.

People especially my friends envy me for the carefree life I led devoid of a wife and family baggage. I too enjoyed even in my idleness using amazon prime and netflix for movies and libgen to get the fiction books I need. My writings though tend to cling on the sadness, spite and sufferings in my so called jolly life. For solitude and idleness took a toll. Yet all that might change from today. I might be moving slowly to my old chipper self. I might turn out to be the protagonist of the novel Goodbye Mr.Chips instead of becoming a grumpy old man.

All this positivity from the new outlook or rather gaining back my old self. Oh, to think that I of all people had turned in to a sort of a whiner even in the context of my writings. I still shall write sad verses but hope to do jollily so. If T.S Elliot’s take on the suffering mind and the creative self is true then let my writings be mediocre but I shall be happy. That was said to make a point but I intend to pursue writing and mastering the craft especially of poetry slowly but steadily. I don’t know what started my writing may be my shy nature and inability to be popular like my brother, may be was the reason I wrote for my eyes only, in the first place. Now I write, for I have to write. I write for writing’s sake. Like doing a crossword or  a sudoko puzzle for some. Writing verses gives me joy. But I also want the joy of sharing to encourage me more. That is why the blog has rekindled my writing after almost a couple of decades. I am just thirty seven but God I really feel old but not tired with the new outlook.

I am happy now and wishing the same for you guys. A new outlook was all that it took. Happy blogging.


He was high as a kite

He was high as a kite,
she sober as a math class,
yet a regular couple in spite,
fighting and doting crass,
he no hero from yonder,
she not any the better,
yet they make me wonder,
why willing they chose fetter;

I long for an attentive partner,
that won’t impinge my freedom,
and not be an emotional burner,
a permanent cure for my boredom,
alas that is not written for sick me,
fated to be alone for now and ever,
society holds back and I can’t be free,
a bird that can’t fly but does hover;

if not destined to rhyme as a couplet,
can I be a tercet, an addendum of sorts,
what pitiful thought to consider and fret,
as many tree leaves, want to win as many hearts,
if boredom and solitude are my bane,
need to hurry faster to defeat them,
at this snail’s pace there is no marked lane,
to gather rage and courage and produce a gem;

I made a few plans but destiny said otherwise,
some accept fate and munch leaves like a caterpillar,
I shall become a butterfly and fly beyond the high shingle,
and if there be hurdles, shall work hard as a tiller,
being single doesn’t mean I can’t in society mingle,
I shall be a stately, steady and surefooted pillar,
soothed in a kid’s laughter or a smiling old wrinkle,
if a couple dare threaten my space, I’ll be a cold killer.

There is an ever

There is an ever so mild drizzle,

a soothing aptly chilled breeze,

droplets caress skin without a fizzle,

clouds danced above in a tight squeeze;

the light dim with an ethereal glow,

there was not the usual rush today,

the streets were calm in its flow,

for it was a joyous holiday;

the cows mooed walking dead slow,

unmindful of crows, stray dogs or rain,

every passerby seemed happy, nature was thorough,

the scorching town sang now in a different vein,

what a calm, bewitching, beautiful experience

made possible by contemplation and silence.

I write raw

I write raw,

with many a flaw,

else no thaw,

frozen the writing claw,

there is some rhyme,

but little to no meter,

can I call it poem after,

is it worth a dime;

I write simple,

on things trivial,

like a baby’s dimple,

sweet but not quite cordial;

I am a dare that writes without a care,

yet longing for words and thoughts you can spare.