Letter to Grave

My heart out I tell story of the two beleaguered souls

He teased you fought with you and even left you in tears many times. But when you left ,taking golden strait to the other side. He weeped, sobbed, cried and yearned for you. My lap was his pillow and my arms were for consoling. However nothing mattered as he lay shaking calling you a traitor for leaving him. He looked like a baby and cried uncontrollably. You left and he felt the shadows creeping over him. I tried to make him laugh but even a solitary smile was a big task. Could it be he really loved you? or Was he just missing a piece of puzzle which before was always in place. He was fighting death not to save himself but to take him to the place where you are. Nothing mattered to him i guess, not his family ,friends and even the wretched daily newspaper. After you left, over time he even stopped reading it. The wall between you and him crumbled to pieces but you were not there. In his last days he forgot his Jester who like a loyal servant was always trying to make him laugh. He knew only you, that you betrayed and left him. The day he died Grandma I felt sad but no remorse of his death because he finally got his wish. Grandma forgive him he didn’t knew how to love. He felt emotions but never could place them as love and express. 

Grandma I was scared if I’m like him but one thing is certain I learned to love and not let emotion run loose. I will not be pessimistic and celebrate my feelings and love towards other. 
P.s. Grandma you loved him too right?


The Cheap Muse


If an occurrence of choice he gets

He desires a memory to come alive

In conquest of finding a moment captured

He sat looking for an idea settled in his mind

The picture is blurry encased under whiff of alcohol

The conscience is clear within an idea of console

Never redeemed the dream he knew so well

His muse was cheap but the scheme was grand



He sculpted the clay like his own heart was on stake

Benign flutter of butterfly was the imagination of base

“Consider it done” his conscience spoke to him

Half a life thought is put into half a life of experience

Nothing prepared him for the greed to make it right

If not struck under the lust of oscillating time

“Consider it done” the lust spoke to him

With music blaring in his ears he shunned lust aside

Dedication he found in her thought sundry weren’t worth a dime

Configuring his mind in sync to his heart

He played with the form as he moulded heaven on earth

A dream all he had of a lone figure in meadows

One with great beauty veiled under shadows

He looks for her in the clay he bruised

Making a life out of an idea, his cheap muse


In the woods a well-hidden secret is kept

Crooning the words alight of a defect

Even the memories are gruesome to the heart

Walls were built to keep the memories in past

We shout, cry, bawl, and whine

Nothing prepares us for the reality check

Looking for the meaning in the sea of dead

We think it is easier in our mind

Though tad difficult the real life is not that kind

Crumbling in mud is no way going to help

Rising from flame is a fable of west

Take a stick and then take a stand

Affirmation to thoughts before running blank

I heed to the day as natural law guides

Vengeance is a contaminated moot

And it’s not so easy to kill and bite


Living on the Beggar’s Field

Living on the beggar’s field

Wilted heart and oh! The lonely minds

Stumbling on the rocky path

Bed of roses is nowhere to be found

Partly my heart gives in; partly my heart is soaring high

Dancing on the tune of jade, Puppets we are in hand of time

Can’t take the road down memory lane

Can’t squash the thirst for what happens next

Pray to one and preach to none, accrued breath is stained

Washing up one’s own sin will not eradicate what have been

Covering up the clinch on the glass doesn’t mean it was never broken

Thirst keeps the throat parched when rhythm like a poison burns

Forging bridge to another town, hoping it be wonderland

All in us give it our best but seeds that we sow

Didn’t grow so well on barren land

Like a nomad under charm of wanderlust we play ourselves to believe

When end is near their will be new beginning

Alternative reality, we are living on beggars field

The Good Woman

She walked among millions, in no way one in a million

Her fair countenance flawed but not dithered

Her mind speaks through her heart’s rhythm

Befallen is she in a dream convinced, its fabrication to redeem

But reality ought not to redeem a dream ever so sweet

The brazen sun leaves her seeing the red spots

Yet every time she gazes at sun enchanted and caught

Never had she been so determined to smile as her skin burnt

She stands under the open sky and warm sun

A soft breeze malevolently touched her cheeks

She wrapped her arms around, with a thought in mind

Solace is fair and just, solace creeps under nerve-filled mirth

Her skin feel stretched she wants to crawl out of her bones

Yet destiny plays, it has something else in stored

When a good woman cries, her tear can leave entire world torn

When a good woman tears, an entire world is scorned

A bubble is popped when a voice is raised

Yellow light blinks as wagon is set a flayed

Fear is grieving a hope has born, an idea that leaves her stun in form

Never is she leaving a footprint in the sand, eyelids shut, she is damned

Devil may cuss , Heavens may plead,

Yet good woman laughs and they are deceived.