It was the rain that came down,
like a flood of suppressed emotions,
having altercations over which
would be the first drop
to touch the virgin ground.
No kings were born on lands below,
like cabbages waiting to be discovered,
some fortunate to be stolen,
others tossed into salad bowls.
The water drops gathered, merged,
became a face with a million identities,
yet identical in every respect,
meant to be forgotten,
but remembered nonetheless.
Cold to the touch,
like hands held underwater,
and brought to the surface
for the whiff of a breath.
Soaked to the skin,
she could feel the venom travel
softly down the curve of her spine
and disappear.
What more could she do but wait,
taking in the silence of the words
which were never spoken,
but which the rain whispered in her ears?

Centuries passed,
like vows undertaken,
oaths broken,
and friendships betrayed
for the clink of silver,
all in the span of a second.
Used and abused laid the emotions
attached to the end of a string,
with sticks poking through
their heart and their wings.
Yet always,
fingers reached out to mend
the shattering feelings,
fingers that caressed the forsaken soul,
fingers that healed,
fingers that deceived
and dug in deep with their nails.
Puckered up,
for the taming of the sands of time,
that came and washed away
all unwritten rhymes.
She had forgotten what was no more,
or was it that it never existed,
this petty dime for a dozen souls?
There is a fine line
between memories and dreams,
a tiny thread binding perception to fact,
such was the knowledge she had acquired.

Meandering through cervices
of lies and truth,
there was no end to the follies
played by the mind,
giving more than could be given,
and taking endlessly,
as if resources were infinite.
The guillotine is less cruel,
an execution instrument,
a clean swipe and it is over,
unlike the multiple blows,
life hits one with,
even though each one is worth it.
Dragonflies and daffodils,
more like a drop of sunshine,
coming into her life,
but leaving before she could grab it,
and she learned to believe in nothing.
It was hard to believe that one
could be so alone in this vast universe,
stretching on into infinity.
It was hard to comprehend
the magnitude of the fact
that solitude was one’s best friend
on a planet with seven billion souls.
But it was a choice she said,
not an obligation.




Like forgotten tears,
And frozen fears,
You are a thousand miles away,
I’ll seek you out
You will tell me,
I will listen,
Nothing matters,
Everything changes.

Like petals,
Fallen on the ground
Soft, like a carpet,
Infinitely bound,
Slowly faltering
With each step
Come to me
I reach out to you.

Madness divine,
Tangled, entwined,
I am spinning a web,
You will tear it,
I will still catch you,
Coax you, persuade you,
You cannot escape me,
You will not even try.

The tables turn,
I don’t know you,
You read me like a book,
Why bother? I ask
The world will churn us
Make us into buttery soup
Where will you be,
Where will I?

I will play, you will sing,
We will be one
No, a million,
With one face
You will be me,
I will be you,
We will be different,
As poisoned fangs and soft fur.

A single clink,
Will bring together
Our souls for a moment,
Everlasting memory
I have seen it all,
I have seen nothing,
Come with me
I reach out for you.

But you are too far away.
Innocent, naive
I cannot play with you,
Would you let me?
A drop for a drop,
A smile for a smile,
Come to me,
I will wait for you.


I have submitted the above for Thursday Poets’ Rally Week 40 hosted by Jingle.

Entwined Lives



Strangers come and go,
From unknown faces
To much searched for smiles,
From unsure greetings
To teary-eyed goodbyes
On this journey called life.

She was an ordinary nobody
Seeking herself and her dreams
Hoping for something good
To meet her at the corners of life
She was carefree, she loved freedom,
But had her insecurities too.

He was a boy with common tastes,
Constantly searching for familiarity
In the strangest of things
Words rarely left his lips
But his mind never stayed still
As he soaked up life like a sponge.

She would walk a mile in one’s shoes
But never let another near her own
Her eyes held mysteries so deep
Though sad and distant was her gaze
She had big dreams on some days
Yet wanted nothing from this life on others.

He couldn’t care less for pleasures
That the world had to offer
He wanted something more
Something substantial and permanent
But he tried hard to convince himself otherwise
As he walked down this worn out road.

She would feel so lonely and lost sometimes
Thinking how vast the universe was
There were not many people
Who could spark her imagination
But the ones who could
Were the ones that did not stay.

He was constantly searching
For someone to share his thoughts with
Someone who’s mind would resonate with his
Who could make him feel alive
But all he had found so far
Were not worth more than a few moments.

Their paths crossed on one fine day,
Two unknown strangers walking on the street,
And they smiled like they knew
What resided in the other’s soul,
They went home with a song
And courage in their hearts.

Yes, strangers come and go,
From unknown faces
To much searched for smiles,
From unsure greetings
To teary-eyed goodbyes
On this journey called life.


Solitary Confinement

I received the Perfect Poet Award for Week 39.  I would like to accept it, and I nominate Lynna for the next Award.

Perfect Poet Award Week 39

I also received The Celebrate Poet of Spring Award. Thank you to everyone who voted for me.

Celebrate Poet of Spring Award

Here is my acceptance poem.

Broken and Stitched Up


Standing In a room
Full of laughing people,
Friends I’ve come to know
And cherish with all my heart.

What more can one ask for?
Than these friendly smiles
The jokes and fun
And their caring shoulder to lean on?

Still sometimes I discover,
That no matter what,
No matter where, or with whom,
I am all alone in the dark.

Essentially and elementally isolated,
Broken and stitched up
Over and over again
I am but a child of solitude.


Forgotten Conversations



With a voice so haunting
Like a prophecy spoken aloud
Comes a whisper from the depths
Of a past I was once fond of
Meandering into the crevices
And cracks of my long forsaken heart
Like an unwanted guest,
To stay, but to never depart.

The fountainhead of time mingles
With threads of three colors
Woven into a delicate fabric
Entwined in an embrace, fluid
Changing, mixing, merging
Yet always remaining the same
The form has a taste of permanence
And a ring of eternity, going up in flames.

Stuck like a broken record,
Cacophonous is the bell
That tolls every morning at dawn
The best moments of the past
Have been recorded over
With silence and a black screen
The memories fade to the background
The smiles can no longer be seen.

Vultures come to feast on the carcass
Left behind by words once said
Meant to be obliterated by the listener,
But forced to live on in the dead
It takes two to forget a memory
Or one, if the other never speaks
But when voices whisper in my ear
They find their words cannot be obsolete.

Maybe the words fade to dust
Hidden under layers of faltered trust
And time cannot change
The ash of these remains
Dangling from a troubled mind
So broken and so unkind
And I am always hanging on
To these forgotten conversations, so long.


I’m submitting the above for Thursday Poets’ Rally Week 39, hosted by Jingle.