The Unborn

She sleeps so sweet..

my angel,

the girl of my dreams..

i crumple in peace..

in pieces..

though bliss it still seems..

such a boon..

like spring,

seamless as the sea..

like parchment maps..

so fragile,

a note hidden under my morning tea..

like summer curtains..

swaying always

something old, something blue..

like unread chapters..

of the favourite book,

something borrowed something new..

i know she hears me not..

the unborn,

and she shall never see..

but i'll crave yet..

for her some more..

and always know how she'd be..

they say she's gone..

for forever..

for no stars shine above..

li'lle do they know..

she lives..

fast asleep in my cradle of love..

The Frozen Tree

Do look beyond the frozen tree

There's sunshine a li'lle, I think..

Or maybe just broken glass

Smiling with every blink..

Do look beyond its ugly knots

The russet cracks and the scoops

There are treasured pains, Linking arms..

Bronzed in friendly loops..

Do look beyond its leafless shrug,

Its stare..

Its toothless grin..

There are unshed tears,

Resting in peace..

In the cradle of thoughtless sin..

Lovers robed in leaves of passion

Of Autumn frolics and fun..

Leaving behind forbidden love

Naked beneath the sun..

Pirates of the lonely coasts

Robbing the shelter of the tree -

Draped in hues of earthly pleasures

And the mystic lull of the sea..

Burnt, broken.. but still alive

With secrets buried deep -

It stays awake through endless dreams..

Just so, I can sleep..

Look beyond the frozen arms

Where I survive unseen..

A solitary bud in the crest of death,

A hope that keeps it green..

The "OTHER" woman...

Kohl-lined eyes and a blue skirt

Sometimes even a dash of red,

And she was beautiful for one more night

Before the sun rose,torn, from her bed..

The mirror glared and the sunbeams scorned..

The skirt shed tears from where it hung,

The patches cried with heartbroken sobs..

The blue that had soothed, now stung..

She sat bare from dawn to dusk..

With only void feelings to lend,

of what remained throttled in sheets

Unwashed, untouched... unkempt..

She lived in the pleasure of his leisure

But perished when conscience begun..

The daily knocking on the door..

The door that his beloved did shun..

Motionless at the doorway of solitude,

She stood endlessly as if she'd been,

Lured in by the mirage of love..

Tumbling upon the sands of sin..

Trapped in what made her mark days,

Imprisoned where they spared none..

He is called "The Tragic Hero"..

While she remains.. "The Other Woman"..

"The Night Train To Deoli"

um. well... this is sorta strange...

today in English class, we read "The Night Train To Deoli" by Ruskin Bond..

so this is what i thought after reading it.. i'll keep the tittle unchanged...

Posts and stations.. the dingy metal,

The empty vacant sigh..

The dust,.. the storm and the lonely train

Slowly whistling by

"BAskets!!Baskets!! Its strong fine cane..."

I still remember her cry

I still remember the haunting smile

When the train kissed the station good-bye..

Her hands shook when she held my dream..

Of making our songs rhyme

Her eyes glistened with unspoken words

That i wanted to tell her just one more time..

She said she would wait

But i can't find her now..

I just live with the resounding lack..

There's a question unanswered,

Whether it was love or not..

For which i keep coming back?

Its a fantasy,

I nurture inside..

A dream i pretend i can see..

I wish this mirage..

Could come alive,

And i could see her waiting for me..