Cross road

Standstill at a junction

Of present

Two directions

Two outcomes

One heading towards glories of past

Other heading towards oblivion of silence

Uncertainty rules

Choice is beyond me

I have to wait

Until the war clouds drizzle down

And clear the sky

Mistakes of past haunt me

Journey towards unknown beckon me

I’ve forgotten my own soul

I am searching for my old self

Lost somewhere in ocean of quarrels

Lost my goodwill on the mountain of agony

I tried to dig it down to find plain ground

Where I lost my identity

As I wish to be recognized again

And tear apart the tag of imposter

Perceptions built on first impressions

Now stands tall in front of my own shadows

I feel dwarfed by the weight of my own image

I razed scars with my words

Now I wish to heal them with compassion

I seek forgiveness

But my lost identity

Blocks my entry to old pathway

Hopelessly

I stare at the barren new path

As time ticks down

But I wish for a new path

For a new start

Straight from the past

Without the murmurs of discontent

Without the suspicion of another breakdown

With a belief of harmony

 Images courtesy :thanks to rightful creators!

Lost world of words

Evening is still young

Sun has not gone home yet

Even as the clouds try to cover

The sky with its massive blanket

Rays of light over shadows it

With tinge of silvery brightness

I am alone waiting for night

To see the stars again

To throw dreams

At them

As I lost my way

Somewhere

I want to ask

For guiding lights

To open up new paths

Towards a lost world

Of words where I weaved

The canvas of imagination

To paint my words

With unseen colors

And spread splashes of joy

To those who might read one day

 Images Courtesy: Thanks to rightful creators

Freedom

Today, I am having my liberty

After slicing down the vultures

Of worries that kept scaring me

When I looked back at my past

I found myself sneaking past

Worries by being coldblooded

With empty hands and mind

I can just walk in rain calmly

Enjoying a banter with the clouds!

Image: Thanks to rightful owner

Suicide

Solemn journey towards peaceful obscurity

Untied from bonds and tiring obligations

Ignited by the passion for a great escape

Capitulated heart with broken dreams and tears

Identifies this medicine as cure for all ills and miseries

Dare to turn around and see the real sufferers in pain

Entice the mind to live; life can be your curing miracle

 Images courtesy: thanks to atheismresource & thebiblepost

I love you from the bottom of my heart

I live with a hope that my

Love will find its way to

You, one day

 From the moment, I met you

The wishful heart craved for you   

Bottom to top it beat the rhythm

 Of your dreams and smile

My wish is to keep them sparkling with

 Heartily promise to wipe your tears all along 

Images courtesy: thanks to rightful creators. 

us.123rf   & 2.bp.

Lonely

Laboring days and nights with an aura of funeraL

Obsolete like a buried tree on an active volcanO

Nagging someone, guilt- ridden to seek a returN

Even as the door of reconciliation blare in flamE

Left with suave memories in company to prevaiL

Yearns for love to arise from the ruins as a fancy      

Images Courtesy: thanks to rightful creators 

Winter Blues

Wayward life takes its break

In a silent manner

Nudging away

The days

Emitting the

Rays of laziness

Bores and deludes the mind

Lusts the soul to be sad amidst roar

Urging it to stay aloof and idle in cold

Energizes the fears to sizzle as nightmares  

Searches for reasons to hide away in darkness 

Images courtesy: Medicine world & Fineartamerica 

Idyllic Path

This is my path

For my soul searching journey

Pristine stream without ripples

Standing still like a lively canvas

For the reflections of trees aside

I can see the hidden sky

Through the lenses of the morning fog

The reflections look like a green curtain

To shy away the sunshine

The stream in its silence

Tells the story of its love for its surrounding

As they embrace the solemn peace

The zig-zag path goes hidden

While immersing itself in the fog

I saw an abandoned tent

I feel I can rest for a while in it

While burning the logs around

For some heat

And, listen to the silence of nature

May be I can grab some peace

For my beleaguered heart

Confused and smitten by emptiness

Enduring the pain of a lost soul

I hope this path will take me there

Where I can see my lost soul again

In peace and warmth

Forgiving and realizing each other

Once again

Image courtesy: Magpie tales. Please visit magpietales98 to read other writers creations. Thanks.

Emptiness

Endless voyage leading one to nowherE

Muddling the mind like a shrewd worM

Playing the tunes of poignance in a looP  

Tiring the senses with hot rains of guilT

Irking the feeling of loneliness like chillI   

Nesting the darkness as a soulless EdeN  

Embracing the tears as a shelter of frailE

Silencing the soul with frozen emotionS

Surrendering the love of life to thoughtS

Images courtsey: ravsworld , greek viking & Adlan

Rainbow on River USK

A welsh winter morning

After an enlightened new-year

Gloomed with dark clouds

Groomed with silent rain

Chilled with wind from riverside

The festive mood was still in air

As the near empty roads suggested

I went for a walk with a friend

Gracing the lonely rain

Walking along the riverside

The usk river remained a slim beauty

Glazing its bare muddy curves

We turned around

A spectacle semi circled the river

Like a colorful hanging bridge

From the edge of its side

To the heights of a nearby tower

A rainbow sparkled

Like a portrait on cloudy canvas

As we snapped up its beauty

With our eyes

The sky opened its canvas

Tearing away the clouds

Making way for the sun to surface

It wished the dawn with a bright smile

While bidding adieu to the soul rain

As the glamour of sun flourished

The fantasy trail of rainbow diminished

With a silent goodbye! 

Image Courtsey: BBC

Helpless Moments

Some moments freezes as it is

Refuses to melt down

As if, it is an imprint to live with

The more I try to forget it

The more it haunts me

A deep regret within my soul

A plight I tried to avoid

I chased the time, to catch some air

Even the shortest distance from safety

Looked so distant, on a night slept in silence

But, my legs weren’t strong enough

In that night of misfortune

I prayed for all the luck

There was nothing left in my destiny

A hollow mind and a strangled heart

Kept me drowning,

While I tried to hold on to the hands of hope

I still ask myself, why I am so slow to react

When it matters the most!

I wonder why I forgot even the sense

To make a simple call , I panicked

As I saw the last breath gasping to the doom

Stood numb and signed that record

On final moment of your life

I still can’t forgive myself

For failing to save you, by a whisker

A few minutes,

I wished I could buy those moments

And give you a breather

While I saw

 You flying away from me forever

Leaving my hands

I still haven’t found my promised land

Without you, I am still wandering

Images: Courtsey dreamstime.com, flickrhivemind.net

New Year 2012

Just a change of guard

Like we move from yesterday to today

We leave behind bunch of memories

We leave behind the treasures of joy

We leave behind the trenches of losses

As the clock tick to the twelve

The fireworks mar the beautiful winter sky

With the smoke covering the glowing stars

A night is kept awake with loud music

With dancing floors sweating in its misery

Rather than the nectar, alcohol flows

Like rivers of ecstasy filling empty hearts

While those struggling, wish for a change

Hope for a new dawn and new path

Those who gave up hope plays down

It’s just another number, a routine

While the predecessors wonder in heavens

What is this mess?

This is just another month and another day

While April is the real New Year

Now it’s a fools new year

But how about those cultures

Where there are many new years

Depending upon on beliefs and harvests

Yeah, it’s just another day another year

A cycle to repeat to add to the history

This time that year that day

Get some sleep and wake up

It’s the same you

Even with all new resolutions

 Image: Courtesy discreet news! Visit thursday poets rally to read exciting creations of other poets. Thanks.

Dawn of retirement

They worked like machines through ages

To build their lives and future of their kids

Now, old to be dynamic,

Yet, for authorities, they are not old enough

To seek the leisure and peace of retirement

May be they are living in fool’s paradise

As politicians never retire until heaven calls them

 What will these hapless people do?

Alone in their final days

Nobody around to look after

Left to face the freeze in the winter

With no heat aids to support

No money for holidays

Pawns of hedging pension funds

Generations spoiled with benefits

Cut aside from the values of Victorian age

The system of looking after the old aged

All within the family

In the name of independence

Leaving home at early age

Leaving the burden on government

To look after an ageing population

Who is to blame?

The middle aged can’t even rest

As pensions mocks at their face

As a question mark over their future

With no choices to opt

Destined to work longer

In the name of higher life expectancy

Some of them can’t even see the dawn of retirement

Recession is a silly excuse

To cover the holes of faulty economic policies

There is money to support wars abroad

But, there is no money for the beleaguered

Now they can work more

With a dream about a dawn

Sitting in the couch, reading a paper

Going out with friends to the pub

To beach to feel the sunshine

Without the stress from bosses

Without the worry about paychecks

With pension, the mr. safeguard on side

Without depending on anyone else

But, that dawn of retirement is moving farther

Somebody has to stop it sooner!

 This poem is a form of support for those people who deserve early retirement!When the legs and hands become weak, we should let them rest and live the life without worries! Extending the retirement age is an escapism! Images: Thanks to respected copyright holders!

silence of the soul

Silence of the soul

Aftermath a long journey

Leaves behind countless questions

Unanswered

Yet, everyone ask beloved

What happened?

Without knowing what to say

To console them

To overcome the pain of irrecoverable loss

The tears of the loved ones

Raise questions towards heaven

Hoping that it will be heard

Why did you do it?

We all were here for you

We were part of your happiness

We celebrated it as ours

But when you had a sorrow

You thought, you were alone

Now, we are helpless

We have to survive through this life

With a regret that we couldn’t heal your sorrow

We wish, you had kept some moments

To share your problem with us

We would have found a solution

Now, we can only shower our love for you

With our prayers for you

Lost flowers

Flowers decorate our gardens

Alleys, abandoned lands

On the ten glorious days starting with Atham

It’s the jewel on the courtyards of our homes

I remember the buzz in the mornings

To pluck the mist filled flowers

To create floral layouts of joy

Striving to create something different

Every day, with whatever flowers available

I’ve seen kids visiting homes

Collecting flowers with exuberance

Now , they get it from market

Preserved flowers at exorbitant prices

Grown and cared just for us somewhere else

Far away from our culture and our lives

This makes me wonder!

Where did we bury our flowering plants?

To stop it from blooming in our little spaces

It takes a few minutes to water

But, its more easy to buy colorful flowers

These aren’t our flowers which decorated our lives

There are more residential associations than residents itself

Yet nobody got time to raise flowers for the kids

When they got time to organize all kind of silly events

Acres of farmlands are laying barren

Yet nobody wish to grow flowers for ourselves

We have outsourced that right to our neighboring states

Youth have time to squeeze money from people on streets

In the name of non-existent arts associations for onam celebrations

Yeah, they don’t have time to raise silly flowers bearing our culture

People have time to queue up infront of liquor outlets

They have creativity to create layouts with empty bottles of liquor

But, raising flowers is waste of time, as it gives fragrance

So fresh and exotic than the much priced rums, brandies, beers and more

We create new limca records for floral arrangements every year
To show how much we care about our onam
An event of glits and glamour for flowers for media 

But, I wish they could see use the colors and flowers of our lives

The big floral layouts on the street, sprouted by the active youth

It was part of our lives, now it’s on the wane

As salt filled , artificial colored layouts smiles at us

I wonder, even they have abandoned our flowers

When these tv channels shower our eyes with the floral extravaganza

Even they forgot our roots and our flowers

They can sell ads for showing prices of flowers

Just like, they do with any other sensational news

Government pays huge bills to organize events

To show the world our onam celebrations

But even they don’t realize we celebrate onam at the mercy of others

Our king is welcomed with dead flowers from afar

It speaks the language of another culture to him

What if he stops visiting us one day?

Disillusioned with his welcome!

Anybody care!

Sorry, we are busy, shopping flowers at trade fairs!

images: thanks to rightful owners!

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Latecomer

Running briskly

With perspiring senses

Wildly beating heart

Checking the watch every other moment

To see how much time lost already

To calculate possible reaching time

To raise the speed
And to prepare for an abrupt entrance

There is a big price to pay

For getting late

A risk

Unworthy

As you stand to lose out

The savory moments upfront

Amongst the settled audience

Engaged fluidly up to the occasion

Then the door cracks up

Breaking the silence of even the noise

Making heads to turn around for a glimpse

To see the distracting latecomer

With countless eyes sprinkling spotlights

Walking past the aisle

Becomes nervy like on a ramp

Nodding the sorry with the eyes

And the bowing head

Whispering the excuse

From the shell of a sorry figure

Without any idea about the scenario

That persisted there

A messy catch up work remains

To be done, to get on level terms

With all those present there

With short enquiries for briefings

Fighting against the time  

To make up for the lost time

Before gelling into the zone

With the ease in breathe 

Scary, if there is scolding

Embarrassing

Funny, if there is mocking

Light hearted banter for folks

There is always an awkward moment

Awaiting the late comer

Images: Thanks to rightful owners

The Fiddle Player

On the corner of a bustling city centre

He stood,

Another tough day to conquer

At the mercy of strangers

Walking past the street

He played his fiddle

Emitting the heavenly aura

With the sweetness of his music

Some people stood there to listen

Some sat on the benches and engaged

In the rhythm of his solemn creativity

He played song after song

Changing the mood with each beat

A talented musician plying his art

On the street, to earn bread

Some acknowledged his efforts

And threw some pence in his fiddle cover

He wasn’t looking at the money

He just played the music

Until he got tired

I hope, one day his luck may turn golden

As his music has a soul of honesty and hope

May be, one well-wisher will give him a big break

To play his fiddle amidst the symphony than on street

There are so many talented musicians who play their music on streets just for pennies.They play simple but heartening music, without any show offs.  Images : Thanks to rightful owners

Rose

‎" every rose blooms,

 spreads fragrance, 

spreads smile, 

carries the love,

 dazzles in mist, 

becomes mystic in drizzle,

 then dulls down with the sun,

 bidding adieu to the world, 

but rose still catches imagination,

 making us love its successors,

 just as it,

 with the charm"

Images : Thanks to the rightful owners

Erratic luminous omen

Life was erratic

Disillusioned with the greed

Disoriented with the purpose

Of living, when I failed to buy time

To save my dearest soul

To catch the precious breath

To survive in this world

Though, I ran like a sprinter

On that fateful night

I might never run like that again

For anything, no matter what at stake

Though, my heart pounds harder still

With nerves wrangling tighter

When I face those deadlines

That I always shied away

Still a luminous angel

Drives me to walk again

To climb the mountains

Of tasks left to achieve

To survive

And thrive again

Like the trees growing green

Again in spring, after the fall

By raining a gritty omen

With actions of courage

Outwitting the fears

To achieve the things beyond

With an ease

Making me wonder!

Why I can’t do the same !

Surreal to Real

Barriers are crumbling down

Distances are narrowing down

Hearts are falling down

For the invisible souls

That keeps flying afar

Through the wings of the web

Sharing all the sweetest dreams

Poaching all the darkest secrets

Sourcing all the hardest exploits

Wiping all the bloody tears

Riding an adventure

Full of hope

Awaiting

Unison

Face to face

Voice to voice

Embrace to embrace

So real from surreal

Hours that brought together

The souls through words

Magical views on screen

Games played with fun

Fights fought with fury

Patch ups done with passion

Promises made with devotion

Altogether now looks real

While holding the hands

While looking at the eyes

Bemused without words

It’s the dawn of a relation

Cemented with love

From surreal to real 

This poem is about two people who fell in love through facebook, whom i met today on a park. Images thanks to google.

 This poem is for  oneshotwednesday . Visit there for more creations of other poets. Thanks :)

My Freedom Lies in Fire

                                                            Image from Mag 66

Sally sat on her couch, glancing at the river through her window, while she eased her mind away from the thoughts that preoccupied her for last many days. She kept the book closer to her chest as if she was embracing someone. Even in her calmness, her eyes glowed like that of a conqueror.  Last many days, this old book from the village library has given her a reason to come alive, a welcome break from her monotonous life with no purpose. She travelled a lot and visited as many libraries she could as she tried to put final touches on her research paper on “libraries and its influence on social life in villages.”Mulford, a sleepy village was her last stop.

Three days back, while visiting the Mulford library along with a kid in her new neighborhood, she never thought that she would find so many old books there. She just scrambled through the books casually until the slip on a book caught her attention. “289.6 CRI”. There was no name of the author or publisher on the side, unlike other books. The dilapidated binding showed its age. When she flipped the pages, she felt the smell of past hidden within its soul. She lent the book out of sheer curiosity. She realized that the book was relatively a new book for library, as was kept amongst recent arrivals section. From the librarian, she learned that one old man has recently donated it along with other seven books recently. Though tried to find the name of the donor, librarian refused to reveal the identity as it was against the rules of library. She had an intuition that she knew the donor somehow.

 While walking back to her home, she recollected that she has once tried to take this book from a library in her hometown Salford, as she stared at the code all along. Back then, she couldn’t as someone had already ordered for that book.  Though she tried to get this book for many months 10 years back, she was told that someone hasn’t returned the book. After reading the book, she found a new energy in her life. However, she wasn’t sure about the reason behind her rejuvenation. She spent major part of her life on books and studies. Finally, loneliness has taken toll on her journey as she missed her long-lost husband more with each day. She had given up his fortune to lead a nomadic lifestyle of travelling along the sleepy towns and villages to find the soul of libraries.  All along, she hoped to find this old book somewhere.

At night, she sat on the steps outside the house, watching the flames arising from the pages of the book. She warmed her hands with its heat. “My freedom lies in fire”, the book she enjoyed reading became ashes. She collected it in her hand and threw it in air as if releasing pigeons. Indeed, she has freed the soul of book just as the author wished. It was the only copy of that book printed by the writer himself in a quest to get a publisher. He tried his whole life to get a reader. However, he could not get one. He carried this book along with him to the small towns and villages he visited for work and displayed it on libraries. With time, the book caught up with tears and wears of ageing just as much as his own beard. In every library, he donated the book, but somehow stole it away after seeing it without takers. Every day, he used to go to library to see if it’s still there. However, Mulford was his last stop as he had lost his hope! He donated his only fortune, the eight books, to the library. She whispered, goodbye Jonathan Jopster. A name nobody will remember nor will know. But, she will keep the name in her heart for rest of the life.

Two days earlier, she came across the news that a long bearded man found dead on the river, nearer to library. She went to the spot out of curiosity. She realized that the old man might be the one who donated the book to the library. The librarian acknowledged it, even as refused to reveal the name. She saw him in every library she visited. It may be mere coincidence. Sometimes, she wondered whether she was following him or other way around. Libraries were the one common interest that kept them meeting from distance, though they didn’t know each other and their mottos. She always has noticed that he never took any book, but sat on bench staring at some stands. Then after few days, he will vanish.  As it didn’t affect her, she never tried to talk to him nor tried to find the reason for his visits to the places she visit. She became curios about the book as she felt that there might be some clue about the old man in it.

While reading, she came across one page in which she found just these words, “My freedom lies in fire. I carried this burden all my life. I can’t bear it anymore. I might not exist while you read this. I am grateful to you for reading. You have fulfilled my dream by reading my story. I don’t think, there will be another afterwards, like before you. So, burn this book and throw the ashes in air and free my soul.” Jonathan Jopster

Written on prompt Mag 66 @ Magpie Tales . Visit there to experience other writers creations. Thanks.