Footsteps falling
on snow, prints leave
Falling leaves of thoughts remembered
as the mind misses a beat
Hear your silent footsteps tread
on the foyer of hearts laden heavy
Weary eyes yearn for mornin' sunlight
as steps take me down early twilight
Monday, August 23, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Moods
POEM 7: (Life alone in USA)
Title: Moods
As I walk alone
Along the winding paths of life
The wind caresses my soul
And the rustle of leaves
Sets my emotions aflight.
I can feel…
Feel the coldness of the pavements
I can see…
See the looming shadows of trees,
The feeble lights of street lamps
Crawl the surface of the earth
And
Windows and doors of all shapes and sizes
Nestling the warm glow of happiness and laughter
While the cold and darkness around
Seems to engulf me…
But lo and behold …
Up above I see
The moon seems to bestow upon me its friendship
And the clouds wrap me in bliss.
Once again I feel ..
I feel like a child in it’s mother’s arms
Lapped in tranquility …
I feel the touch of the winds,
The music of the leaves.
I can feel ..
As I walk
Along the winding paths of life
Title: Moods
As I walk alone
Along the winding paths of life
The wind caresses my soul
And the rustle of leaves
Sets my emotions aflight.
I can feel…
Feel the coldness of the pavements
I can see…
See the looming shadows of trees,
The feeble lights of street lamps
Crawl the surface of the earth
And
Windows and doors of all shapes and sizes
Nestling the warm glow of happiness and laughter
While the cold and darkness around
Seems to engulf me…
But lo and behold …
Up above I see
The moon seems to bestow upon me its friendship
And the clouds wrap me in bliss.
Once again I feel ..
I feel like a child in it’s mother’s arms
Lapped in tranquility …
I feel the touch of the winds,
The music of the leaves.
I can feel ..
As I walk
Along the winding paths of life
A day at the beach...
[background: For folks who have been there...
its somewhat specific to the Santa Cruz beach with the Boardwalk in the backdrop with its rides, flags etc...]
A day at the beach...
Your tiny feet take those first steps...
in search of sea-gull feathers...
As grown up feets would bring you back in my arms
crowned with plumes of peace...
As children's laughter sways on the wings of kites
like sweet music to my aged ears...
Sand castles of hopes and promises
as birth of civilizations to be...
The soft white eyes of waves blink away the lazy noons
as they beckon out to thee...
My heart craves for the pure love and joy
as nature bonds with thee...
The hands that dragged me
to the streaming sunshine in the dawn of life
Lead me through silent stars falling from the sky,
as the dusk of life sets in...
As I sleep amidst the clouds of childhood past
the seeds of dreams grow slowly
Slowly in my heart's mind, yearning,
for another day at the beach...
its somewhat specific to the Santa Cruz beach with the Boardwalk in the backdrop with its rides, flags etc...]
A day at the beach...
Your tiny feet take those first steps...
in search of sea-gull feathers...
As grown up feets would bring you back in my arms
crowned with plumes of peace...
As children's laughter sways on the wings of kites
like sweet music to my aged ears...
Sand castles of hopes and promises
as birth of civilizations to be...
The soft white eyes of waves blink away the lazy noons
as they beckon out to thee...
My heart craves for the pure love and joy
as nature bonds with thee...
The hands that dragged me
to the streaming sunshine in the dawn of life
Lead me through silent stars falling from the sky,
as the dusk of life sets in...
As I sleep amidst the clouds of childhood past
the seeds of dreams grow slowly
Slowly in my heart's mind, yearning,
for another day at the beach...
For a friend,
For a friend,
Wake up and walk the paths
shone by the stars
to the ways of the Lord
that’s designed for us...
Feel and be blessed,
Care with no stress,
Share and then some rest
in the arms of the Lord...
Wake up and walk in the light
that God shines on us...
Share thy love and warmth
and many of us shall follow thy footsteps...
Wake up and walk the paths
shone by the stars
to the ways of the Lord
that’s designed for us...
Feel and be blessed,
Care with no stress,
Share and then some rest
in the arms of the Lord...
Wake up and walk in the light
that God shines on us...
Share thy love and warmth
and many of us shall follow thy footsteps...
STROLL OF LIFE
Inspiration:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/01/opinion/01canadaday.html?th&emc=th
tribute to homeland...
And I miss Winnipeg’s winters, which any Winnipegger will tell you is ridiculous. Nonetheless, I miss the winter sun on snow and ice, the blue sky too cold for a scrap of cloud, and clear air like a healing draft so strong that too much will kill you. Walking in such weather is necessarily walking meditation, every breath sears with cold, every footfall in the snow crunches and squeaks.
[The most frequently occurring theory of classical elements, held by the Hindu, Japanese, and Greek systems of thought, is that there are five elements, namely Earth, Water, Air, Fire, and a fifth element known variously as space, Idea, Void "quintessence" or Aether (the term "quintessence" derives from "quint" meaning "fifth").
-from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Classical_element
Each one of the description in the poem refers to the blossoming of the following trees:
1. Delonix regia
2. PELTOPHORUM PTEROCARPUM - COPPER POD TREE]
STROLL OF LIFE
[Water]
As I stroll ...
The rain of yellow dew
my mother tree showers on me.
[Air]
As I stroll ...
with little leafs of flowers red
the swaying winds bring to me.
[Fire]
As I stroll ...
the orange glow of petals strewn
stir a dancing fire within my heart ...
[Earth]
As I stroll ...
for its true love made, for you and me
from deep within nature's soul ...
[Space - or Idea of life]
As I stroll ...
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/01/opinion/01canadaday.html?th&emc=th
tribute to homeland...
And I miss Winnipeg’s winters, which any Winnipegger will tell you is ridiculous. Nonetheless, I miss the winter sun on snow and ice, the blue sky too cold for a scrap of cloud, and clear air like a healing draft so strong that too much will kill you. Walking in such weather is necessarily walking meditation, every breath sears with cold, every footfall in the snow crunches and squeaks.
[The most frequently occurring theory of classical elements, held by the Hindu, Japanese, and Greek systems of thought, is that there are five elements, namely Earth, Water, Air, Fire, and a fifth element known variously as space, Idea, Void "quintessence" or Aether (the term "quintessence" derives from "quint" meaning "fifth").
-from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Classical_element
Each one of the description in the poem refers to the blossoming of the following trees:
1. Delonix regia
2. PELTOPHORUM PTEROCARPUM - COPPER POD TREE]
STROLL OF LIFE
[Water]
As I stroll ...
The rain of yellow dew
my mother tree showers on me.
[Air]
As I stroll ...
with little leafs of flowers red
the swaying winds bring to me.
[Fire]
As I stroll ...
the orange glow of petals strewn
stir a dancing fire within my heart ...
[Earth]
As I stroll ...
for its true love made, for you and me
from deep within nature's soul ...
[Space - or Idea of life]
As I stroll ...
USA
Scribble 2:
[In the eve of the O’bama elections...]
Title: USA
Red or Blue, all in the image of Thee
be married under the rainbow - my country so free
that emanates from all the bright stars so white, so pure
from up above amidst the skies and galaxies of democracy...
(Red and Blue not only means
1. the colors of the flag
2. it also means the two parties
3. it also implies people – both white and colored.)
[In the eve of the O’bama elections...]
Title: USA
Red or Blue, all in the image of Thee
be married under the rainbow - my country so free
that emanates from all the bright stars so white, so pure
from up above amidst the skies and galaxies of democracy...
(Red and Blue not only means
1. the colors of the flag
2. it also means the two parties
3. it also implies people – both white and colored.)
in the wake of NY and for WTC…
Scribble 1:
[in the wake of NY and for WTC…]
The tear rolls down from buildings..
Mothers walk from it lashing out
Pull down those buildings, raise it from the ashes.
Wake up my children, there’s a mornin yonder after the dash.
The blood runs wet through the streets.
The children walk through the nights..
Its time you take them in your arms
For weary and tired, fighting the claws of the nights..
O’child of mine…
Rest awhile for the flowers bloom for thee..
For they will carry thy fragrance
long after the world’s forgotten thee..
[in the wake of NY and for WTC…]
The tear rolls down from buildings..
Mothers walk from it lashing out
Pull down those buildings, raise it from the ashes.
Wake up my children, there’s a mornin yonder after the dash.
The blood runs wet through the streets.
The children walk through the nights..
Its time you take them in your arms
For weary and tired, fighting the claws of the nights..
O’child of mine…
Rest awhile for the flowers bloom for thee..
For they will carry thy fragrance
long after the world’s forgotten thee..
The Death Of Thought…
Title: The Death Of Thought…
[prelude]
Is a thought a thought or just a word
Was thought ever meant to be but a mere accident of thy creator
What is it to be, if being is all but unreal
What is real if not another word, a sheer pleasantry for thy senses…
[birth]
Is there a word in the thought of a child as it cries.
Is the love of thy mother all but a mere web of words
Is to be liked a feeling, or the thought of a feeling all but a word
Is to be alive, a mere thought or an ephemeral fragance of a withering flower…
[childhood]
Does a thought drape itself in slumber
And slip into dreams on cool summer nights
Does it hide behind clouds and play as a child,
And blossom to a youth in the castle of thy minds…
[youth]
Does a thought arch itself, amidst dew drenched flowers
And wear a new garb, as seasons wax and wane
Is it the wind that caresses thy face, as the love of thy Almighty
Or is an angel’s whisper in thy ears, of a feeling that’s newly born…
[adulthood]
Is a thought but a flock of birds
A flock of birds that nests in the wings of thy imagination
Is it’s color a feeling or the flight of thy thoughts
What is red or blue but a streak of sensation to the veils of thy eyes…
[death]
The death of a poet would be the death of a word
As it slips into the darkness of after life
Would the word live far beyond, in thy minds
As contagious thoughts that plagues humankind…
[beyond]
Would it go far beyond the realms of the poet's mind, it once enslaved...
In search of meandering rivers, of words that have no banks
banks of thoughts, that he fights and prays
prays to fade away, in the very womb of it’s mother…
[postlude]
What would thy give…
To measure the freedom of thy thought
The thought that sets you free, of all thoughts and feelings
Or is it all but to a word’s whim, we fall to, defeated…and slain.
[prelude]
Is a thought a thought or just a word
Was thought ever meant to be but a mere accident of thy creator
What is it to be, if being is all but unreal
What is real if not another word, a sheer pleasantry for thy senses…
[birth]
Is there a word in the thought of a child as it cries.
Is the love of thy mother all but a mere web of words
Is to be liked a feeling, or the thought of a feeling all but a word
Is to be alive, a mere thought or an ephemeral fragance of a withering flower…
[childhood]
Does a thought drape itself in slumber
And slip into dreams on cool summer nights
Does it hide behind clouds and play as a child,
And blossom to a youth in the castle of thy minds…
[youth]
Does a thought arch itself, amidst dew drenched flowers
And wear a new garb, as seasons wax and wane
Is it the wind that caresses thy face, as the love of thy Almighty
Or is an angel’s whisper in thy ears, of a feeling that’s newly born…
[adulthood]
Is a thought but a flock of birds
A flock of birds that nests in the wings of thy imagination
Is it’s color a feeling or the flight of thy thoughts
What is red or blue but a streak of sensation to the veils of thy eyes…
[death]
The death of a poet would be the death of a word
As it slips into the darkness of after life
Would the word live far beyond, in thy minds
As contagious thoughts that plagues humankind…
[beyond]
Would it go far beyond the realms of the poet's mind, it once enslaved...
In search of meandering rivers, of words that have no banks
banks of thoughts, that he fights and prays
prays to fade away, in the very womb of it’s mother…
[postlude]
What would thy give…
To measure the freedom of thy thought
The thought that sets you free, of all thoughts and feelings
Or is it all but to a word’s whim, we fall to, defeated…and slain.
Happy Birthday Friend!
Wishes for a friend on her 40th birthday
Title: Happy Birthday Friend
Driving along these winding paths
May this day remind you of …
Of those rolling hills and mountains
Of meadows that entrance cows in peace
Of trees dancing in the breeze, and
Of sturdy firs with their mighty girths
Of tiny flowers, dew wet along the paths
Of soaring birds and their songs so sweet
May this day remind you of …
Of chiming bells out on the porches
Of children waving their tiny little hands
Of snakelike rivers, that chases the seas
Of sea shells, fishes and white sandy beaches
Of fairies and goblins that
Dance in your dreams
Of summers sunshine bright and
Of moonlit winters cold …
Happy Birthday Friend!
Title: Happy Birthday Friend
Driving along these winding paths
May this day remind you of …
Of those rolling hills and mountains
Of meadows that entrance cows in peace
Of trees dancing in the breeze, and
Of sturdy firs with their mighty girths
Of tiny flowers, dew wet along the paths
Of soaring birds and their songs so sweet
May this day remind you of …
Of chiming bells out on the porches
Of children waving their tiny little hands
Of snakelike rivers, that chases the seas
Of sea shells, fishes and white sandy beaches
Of fairies and goblins that
Dance in your dreams
Of summers sunshine bright and
Of moonlit winters cold …
Happy Birthday Friend!
Of poems that’d never be…
My humble interpretation of my following poem:
It’s this constant struggle between you and something you always were as a child or something that you want to be. The child, the friendly star and the caravan portrays the state of absolute happiness, truth and knowledge that one can possess. It is a symbol of having reached the acme point (nirvaana) which eludes everyone who are the children of long lost cultures lying in the very hearts of mountains. It picturizes oneself among these people of the land who are oblivious of the existence of a soul, like the one that the poet has, which constantly urges him to venture into or grope for the absolute reality or truth.
The poem is sad and disillusive since it shows the poet as a weak person and not one who stands boldly upright in the crowd of people he belongs to. This is a delineation of reality. Or else the poet would have been a great human being who could overpower the shortcomings like the ones possessed by the people of his valley. Thus the soul that kindles the fire in the hearts of people like the poet, is the true hero of the poem, which braves to scale upto the challenges posed by the deeply enrooted culture which is now dormant.
Thus, in the sentence,
The poems that would never be
The poet wants to say that, “poem” as a term implies the state of achieving nirvaana or the absolute truth.
The next sentence,
Of poets, never free
Implies the insignificance and fruitless existence of people like the poet, who are afraid to venture the path of truth, in spite of being haunted by their strong and dominant counterpart, THE SOUL !!!
Title: Of poems that’d never be…
Yet another day,
The sun shone bright
Yet there’s no light in sight,
As I plod along …
I plod along the paths of life
With weary eyes and feet so sore
With sacks of my deeds
That I carry along,
That burdens me more …
The battle goes on
Between right and wrong
Yet another day,
It’s me and my soul
There seems no end
It’s me against my soul …
I see the child in me
In my very eyes
Climb the vines of life
Among shades of flowers
That nurture trees,
In their bosoms deep …
I see him, talk to the trees
And sleep among the leaves
I see him, swim the rivers red
Among rhythms of love that run deep,
Run so very deep …
When silence screams
And laughter cries
And ghosts of loneliness crowd you
My weary eyes probe the dark skies
For a friendly star, of sunshine bright …
I feel like the solemn winds,
That roam valleys, in silent despair
Though cultures, buried in the hearts of mountains
Lay deep in slumber,
My soul rests no more,
In search of friendly caravans, it goes …
The battle goes on
Between right and wrong
Yet another day
Like the rain and the sun
There seems no end
It’s me against my soul …
As I plod along
I hear whispers, speak of
Poems that’d never be …
Of poets, never free
As I plod along …
It’s this constant struggle between you and something you always were as a child or something that you want to be. The child, the friendly star and the caravan portrays the state of absolute happiness, truth and knowledge that one can possess. It is a symbol of having reached the acme point (nirvaana) which eludes everyone who are the children of long lost cultures lying in the very hearts of mountains. It picturizes oneself among these people of the land who are oblivious of the existence of a soul, like the one that the poet has, which constantly urges him to venture into or grope for the absolute reality or truth.
The poem is sad and disillusive since it shows the poet as a weak person and not one who stands boldly upright in the crowd of people he belongs to. This is a delineation of reality. Or else the poet would have been a great human being who could overpower the shortcomings like the ones possessed by the people of his valley. Thus the soul that kindles the fire in the hearts of people like the poet, is the true hero of the poem, which braves to scale upto the challenges posed by the deeply enrooted culture which is now dormant.
Thus, in the sentence,
The poems that would never be
The poet wants to say that, “poem” as a term implies the state of achieving nirvaana or the absolute truth.
The next sentence,
Of poets, never free
Implies the insignificance and fruitless existence of people like the poet, who are afraid to venture the path of truth, in spite of being haunted by their strong and dominant counterpart, THE SOUL !!!
Title: Of poems that’d never be…
Yet another day,
The sun shone bright
Yet there’s no light in sight,
As I plod along …
I plod along the paths of life
With weary eyes and feet so sore
With sacks of my deeds
That I carry along,
That burdens me more …
The battle goes on
Between right and wrong
Yet another day,
It’s me and my soul
There seems no end
It’s me against my soul …
I see the child in me
In my very eyes
Climb the vines of life
Among shades of flowers
That nurture trees,
In their bosoms deep …
I see him, talk to the trees
And sleep among the leaves
I see him, swim the rivers red
Among rhythms of love that run deep,
Run so very deep …
When silence screams
And laughter cries
And ghosts of loneliness crowd you
My weary eyes probe the dark skies
For a friendly star, of sunshine bright …
I feel like the solemn winds,
That roam valleys, in silent despair
Though cultures, buried in the hearts of mountains
Lay deep in slumber,
My soul rests no more,
In search of friendly caravans, it goes …
The battle goes on
Between right and wrong
Yet another day
Like the rain and the sun
There seems no end
It’s me against my soul …
As I plod along
I hear whispers, speak of
Poems that’d never be …
Of poets, never free
As I plod along …
I know not why ...
POEM 8
Title: I know not why ….
Why doesn’t the rain, from roof-tops
Tingle me as I’d soar high up in the sky, anymore
Nor
Thrill me to row boats, down streams and puddles, anymore?
Why doesn’t the touch of flowers please me, anymore
Nor
The morning dewdrops fill me with happiness, anymore?
Why don’t I crave to climb the trees, anymore
Nor
Yearn to run behind swaying kites, anymore?
Why don’t I see dreams of
Fairies and goblins, anymore
Nor
The shapes of demons scare me, anymore
As they pranced the ceilings
While the curtains danced with glee …
All those days,
Days and years,
Seem to fly away like the butterflies
Off my tiny little hands.
I know not why,
It doesn’t bring me joy,
To walk in my father’s shoes, anymore …
I know not why …
Title: I know not why ….
Why doesn’t the rain, from roof-tops
Tingle me as I’d soar high up in the sky, anymore
Nor
Thrill me to row boats, down streams and puddles, anymore?
Why doesn’t the touch of flowers please me, anymore
Nor
The morning dewdrops fill me with happiness, anymore?
Why don’t I crave to climb the trees, anymore
Nor
Yearn to run behind swaying kites, anymore?
Why don’t I see dreams of
Fairies and goblins, anymore
Nor
The shapes of demons scare me, anymore
As they pranced the ceilings
While the curtains danced with glee …
All those days,
Days and years,
Seem to fly away like the butterflies
Off my tiny little hands.
I know not why,
It doesn’t bring me joy,
To walk in my father’s shoes, anymore …
I know not why …
A Wish
POEM 6 (A house warming present)
Title: A Wish
May,
The flowers of the heavens
Bloom in your little garden,
And
The birds of the air
Build nests on your window sill.
May,
The fears of the nights, flee
As you lay in your cozy bed,
And
The moonlight bathe your house
With the warmth of the sun.
May,
The stars brighten your rooms
As they play hide and seek with thee,
And
The skies color the walls
As they would, the souls of those
Who come …
To THEE.
May,
…
Title: A Wish
May,
The flowers of the heavens
Bloom in your little garden,
And
The birds of the air
Build nests on your window sill.
May,
The fears of the nights, flee
As you lay in your cozy bed,
And
The moonlight bathe your house
With the warmth of the sun.
May,
The stars brighten your rooms
As they play hide and seek with thee,
And
The skies color the walls
As they would, the souls of those
Who come …
To THEE.
May,
…
When I left her…
POEM 5 ( To my mother)
[This is for all the people whose near and dear ones are in far off lands.]
Title: When I left her…
The tears rolled down fast
Fast down her cheeks
Her hair hung loose flying, in the air
As she stood there,
With a lost look in her eyes
One full of hope and despair
As darkness shrouded us …
The wheels screeched, and feet moved
And the whole world seemed to roll
While the earth moved beneath my feet
T’was our souls that stood still…
Was it fate that moved me that day
Or was it fate itself that moved
There’s no way to tell
There no way to know…
There was no time to turn around
To catch a glimpse of the face
That would soon disappear
Disappear, down memory lane …
All that was left of that day
Is the tears
The tears, that roll down everyday
To this day, to this time…
For only, I could turn around
Hold her in my arms and hug her
Never to leave her anymore
Never to leave her, anymore …
Oh! But a prey to time’s plot
We all forever get lost.
Be it, a mom from her child
Be it, the body from a soul …
While the storms rage outside my windows
And the flames of candles that stir
Stir, the stillness in my room
My sole companion (one’s reflections) laughs and jeers
Jeers at me, while I cry …
And as time fleets by,
The waves of warmth and sweet memories toss me,
Toss me, only to be lashed against the rocks of reality
A reality, so jagged and so cold …
As I lay on my bed
Sapped off my strength
And watch the birds of the air turn to their nests
I can hear my soul pace around
Pace around, in hope
A hope,
That the paths we tread,
And many a tree that we touch,
Someday,
Will tell our little stories
And sing our little songs …
[This is for all the people whose near and dear ones are in far off lands.]
Title: When I left her…
The tears rolled down fast
Fast down her cheeks
Her hair hung loose flying, in the air
As she stood there,
With a lost look in her eyes
One full of hope and despair
As darkness shrouded us …
The wheels screeched, and feet moved
And the whole world seemed to roll
While the earth moved beneath my feet
T’was our souls that stood still…
Was it fate that moved me that day
Or was it fate itself that moved
There’s no way to tell
There no way to know…
There was no time to turn around
To catch a glimpse of the face
That would soon disappear
Disappear, down memory lane …
All that was left of that day
Is the tears
The tears, that roll down everyday
To this day, to this time…
For only, I could turn around
Hold her in my arms and hug her
Never to leave her anymore
Never to leave her, anymore …
Oh! But a prey to time’s plot
We all forever get lost.
Be it, a mom from her child
Be it, the body from a soul …
While the storms rage outside my windows
And the flames of candles that stir
Stir, the stillness in my room
My sole companion (one’s reflections) laughs and jeers
Jeers at me, while I cry …
And as time fleets by,
The waves of warmth and sweet memories toss me,
Toss me, only to be lashed against the rocks of reality
A reality, so jagged and so cold …
As I lay on my bed
Sapped off my strength
And watch the birds of the air turn to their nests
I can hear my soul pace around
Pace around, in hope
A hope,
That the paths we tread,
And many a tree that we touch,
Someday,
Will tell our little stories
And sing our little songs …
Was it you?
POEM 4
Title: Was it you?
The girl who sat at the window combing her hair
The girl who walked down my aisle, lowered her face so fair.
The girl whose sari painted the sky, of my dreams, into the nights…
Was it you, my love?
The girl who kindled the flames of love, as she lit the lamps
The girl who was the flower, the fragrance, the ripples of my mind
The girl who was my silent companion, as I walked in solitude…
Was it someone else, or was it you, my love?
Were you the clay on my hands on a bright summer morning
Or the brush and the colors on a lazy afternoon
Or the sweet thoughts of a book on a wintry night
Were you my rain, my sunshine, my honey, my dew drops…
Was it you,
The girl who brought summers so bright
And spread the smell of spring so sweet, in my little garden of a mind…
My conscience, my very existence – Oh thank thee my Lord,
T’was you, t’was you, t’was you…
Title: Was it you?
The girl who sat at the window combing her hair
The girl who walked down my aisle, lowered her face so fair.
The girl whose sari painted the sky, of my dreams, into the nights…
Was it you, my love?
The girl who kindled the flames of love, as she lit the lamps
The girl who was the flower, the fragrance, the ripples of my mind
The girl who was my silent companion, as I walked in solitude…
Was it someone else, or was it you, my love?
Were you the clay on my hands on a bright summer morning
Or the brush and the colors on a lazy afternoon
Or the sweet thoughts of a book on a wintry night
Were you my rain, my sunshine, my honey, my dew drops…
Was it you,
The girl who brought summers so bright
And spread the smell of spring so sweet, in my little garden of a mind…
My conscience, my very existence – Oh thank thee my Lord,
T’was you, t’was you, t’was you…
A face in the fog
POEM 3
Title: A face in the fog
A face in the fog, the girl at the fair
Of memories and recollections; so precious and rare…
A windy day, a fragrant night
Only to not smell thy presence by my side
My body yearns, my mind shatters
Into million thoughts of things we’d do
If not the miles, infinite, that keeps us apart …
The book I hold sing songs of you
While the curtains dance to the tune
Only to remind me of you,
Of your graceful walk, your sweet little talks
O’ the winds you brought, O’ the winds you brought…
O’er the golden hills as my mind trots
Painting thy face across the roaring skies
The rustle of leaves and the grass beneath, sing songs
Of a face in the fog, the girl at the fair
Of memories and recollections; so precious and rare …
Title: A face in the fog
A face in the fog, the girl at the fair
Of memories and recollections; so precious and rare…
A windy day, a fragrant night
Only to not smell thy presence by my side
My body yearns, my mind shatters
Into million thoughts of things we’d do
If not the miles, infinite, that keeps us apart …
The book I hold sing songs of you
While the curtains dance to the tune
Only to remind me of you,
Of your graceful walk, your sweet little talks
O’ the winds you brought, O’ the winds you brought…
O’er the golden hills as my mind trots
Painting thy face across the roaring skies
The rustle of leaves and the grass beneath, sing songs
Of a face in the fog, the girl at the fair
Of memories and recollections; so precious and rare …
Grains of Thought
POEM 1
The original poem (Not Mine)
I think of you in silence, no eyes can see me weep,
But deep within my heart, your image I will keep,
When roses grew upon a vine, I chose you from amongst the rest
Bcos I love you the best
My addition to the poem above
Those eyes that wanders the deserts, run dry,
As grains of sand push forth from the bosoms of the land
The inner eye can see me weep, weep tears of blood,
As contours change, vines form and then break amidst the sands…
As the sun sets, a stream of blood drains off the rose bush
A desert as it stands – a rose land, with strewn petals of love…
The inner eye can see me weep, weep tears of blood,
As contours change, vines form and then break amidst the sands…
The original poem (Not Mine)
I think of you in silence, no eyes can see me weep,
But deep within my heart, your image I will keep,
When roses grew upon a vine, I chose you from amongst the rest
Bcos I love you the best
My addition to the poem above
Those eyes that wanders the deserts, run dry,
As grains of sand push forth from the bosoms of the land
The inner eye can see me weep, weep tears of blood,
As contours change, vines form and then break amidst the sands…
As the sun sets, a stream of blood drains off the rose bush
A desert as it stands – a rose land, with strewn petals of love…
The inner eye can see me weep, weep tears of blood,
As contours change, vines form and then break amidst the sands…
You bring forth, the best in me…
Title:
1. You bring forth, the best in me…
2. You and Me
You carry me across the oceans
You fly me by the seas
You lead me into deep devotion
One mixed with ecstasy
You set me aflight, amongst sea gulls
From snow capped mountain tops
Then gently, in your arms, I glide
And be buried, in thy bosoms, soft
You lay me in your bed, so white
Of fluffy clouds and petals bright
You watch o’er me, with tender gaze,
As do heavenly angels in flight
Serene beauty there lie within you, my love
Though seasons come and go
Like roses red, live forever, amidst the snow
I’d kiss your lips, aglow
The music chimes in me, forever
As moonlit ripples sway, o’er the face of the seas
I’d hold you in my arms, forever
As you kindle a warmth in me
You storm my oceans of desire
And give me all the love, one needs
You set me free, free of myself
You bring forth, the best in me.
You bring forth, the best in me…
1. You bring forth, the best in me…
2. You and Me
You carry me across the oceans
You fly me by the seas
You lead me into deep devotion
One mixed with ecstasy
You set me aflight, amongst sea gulls
From snow capped mountain tops
Then gently, in your arms, I glide
And be buried, in thy bosoms, soft
You lay me in your bed, so white
Of fluffy clouds and petals bright
You watch o’er me, with tender gaze,
As do heavenly angels in flight
Serene beauty there lie within you, my love
Though seasons come and go
Like roses red, live forever, amidst the snow
I’d kiss your lips, aglow
The music chimes in me, forever
As moonlit ripples sway, o’er the face of the seas
I’d hold you in my arms, forever
As you kindle a warmth in me
You storm my oceans of desire
And give me all the love, one needs
You set me free, free of myself
You bring forth, the best in me.
You bring forth, the best in me…
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