Touche

Touche, you say
lest they know the secret
and cast their evil charms.
Your eyes shine bright
with the desire burning
and yet you deny.

You long not for riches
and fame and glory,
and neither wait for the
frog prince and a fairy tale.
This mundane world cannot
provide what you are looking for.

All you seek is freedom,
locked within a framework
of skin and bones and reality,
Out there lies wild abandon,
hanging uncertain in the air-
yours to escape away into..

A secret dream to run away
into that mysterious world
of dreams and illusions-
probabilities and impossibilities
explode and implode within,
all yours to explore. Touche.


--------------------------------

i have no idea how i ended up at this..
i wont insult poetry by calling this a poem,

:( ... im losing it.

http://www.orkut.com/CommMsgs.aspx?cmm=31598904&tid=2586014590072785138&na=4

Mannat

She saw him being dragged away
by the roots of his hairs,
They held him bound in chains
and whipped and lashed.

She cried herself hoarse
seeking her lover's escape,
begged mercy from the pirates
who had ravaged many a shores.

They took him beyond lands
unknown and a hundred seas.
Locked in sand filled dungeons
on an island nowhere on map.

She went searching for her man
from nether to high lands.
On unruly waves and wilderness
she carried her grief in her heart.

Parched by the desert sun,
weathered by the mighty winds,
drowned by the pouring rain,
Yet she marched forth in her quest.

And last found a tavern
to which none paid any heed.
The moonless dark sky
compelled her to take refuge.

There she found her man
clasped in another woman's arms.
Tears betrayed the hurt
she felt in her happiness.

Her heart broke into a thousand pieces
and nothing could mend it now,
for forces of nature may bleed your skin
but love scorned burns the heart.

Then she walked into the sea
and let the sea caress her wounds.
Further she went into it
and slumbered in the deep.

Her spirit lies lonely and seeking,
the sea waves wildly lament her sorrow.
Whenever the moon begins a new phase,
she dies another death of perfidy.

--------------------------------------------------------

http://www.orkut.com/CommMsgs.aspx?cmm=31598904&tid=2571719893087160562&start=1

I found this one in one of my old diaries...
and I have no idea why it had been titled Mannat then. Since I can't find any better title, I'd just stick to this one.

To Bluntschli,

To Bluntschli, my chocolate-cream soldier

Our eyes may meet and
you may not see my mind
hidden behind it.

You may hear my voice yet
not identify the stirrings
of my soul within.

You could hold my hands
but never the warmth
exuding from them.

If you were in love with
me- would you then?

Many careless afternoons
spent in your arms,
recalled with tender care.

Walked that path home,
everyday, at twilight,
hand in hand,at times.

Said so much to each other,
with our eyes and signs,
and sometimes, without them.

If you aren't in love with
me- then why do feel the same?

With each other, everyday,
all our lives almost,
spent and cherished.

We kept looking, everywhere
for our better halves,
never heeding the present.

All that while, every time
we forgot to notice,
who we were, who we are.

If we are in love-
why are we so silent yet?

http://www.orkut.com/CommMsgs.aspx?cmm=31598904&tid=2561488707609954546

Lingering love..

Love that lingers,
waits awhile for you..

Scents trail behind-
whiffs of memories

The touch that never
left the feeling on skin

Meanings locked in eyes,
lost somewhere deeper

Smiles that said much
and hid many secrets within

Tears, with nowhere to go
filled with infinite joy

Heart beats slowed down
to an eternity's space..

Spent in frozen time,
our own universe

Love that lingers,
stays awhile with you..


http://www.orkut.com/CommMsgs.aspx?cmm=31598904&tid=2561488967455475954&na=4

Miracle

A miracle in hold,
struggling to free,
from slippery hands
and a sceptic mind.

Is it in wait
of a better time?
Or a softer spirit
yielding to it?

Would you release
it for a joy you fear
you don’t dare dream?
Or rather smother
it to save unforeseen
desires from dying?

Let the miracle unfold
and change your life,
for better or worse,
than linger on chance
and watch wishes and hopes
wilt away before your eyes.

Free the puerile butterfly
into the unknown blues,
lest its lengthy confine
bring its untimely close.


http://www.orkut.com/CommMsgs.aspx?cmm=31598904&tid=2548739326972528882

Blank

this one's after really long...

Blank--

I'll become a blank page,
if I continue to lose
those unwritten tales
from an endless maze-
a palce I never went to.

Is there any way in???
Directions from a guide,
reluctant to let slip
that long sought gift-
a key to my mind.

Those unknown,unseen,
probably long lost.
Saw much of a distant dream,
locked in some discrete realm,
now mere memories and dust.

Just floating around-
voices and sights there
not ready to settle down,
not destiny-bound,
illusory and real in pair.

Stained by blood,a bit,
they refuse to fade away.
But harder to get rid
are the tears left behind.
overwhelming,they stay.

Memories,too many of them,
an uncomfortable sojourn.
tumultuous they remain-
a torrent you cant stem,
a half grief you cant mourn.

I'll remain a blank life
if this turmoil continues to linger.
Can I end this hollow strife?
Can I just aimlessly write,
and put this madness to paper?




http://www.orkut.com/CommMsgs.aspx?cmm=31598904&tid=2541094892923521266

Hope, perhaps?

---I was moving around injured..
Tiny cracks within me,
I was afraid and scared
of letting those wounds deepen..


Then along came that ailment-
love, in overpowering strong torrents.
I try to hold on, not to relent,
but I succumb, madly to that madness.

A new world opened up before me,
there before my jaundiced eyes..
violets seemed bluer than the sea,
clouds bloomed like lilies in the skies..

Would you believe I was in love?
A sudden burst of sunlight,
flutterings of a chained dove..
fighting restraint with all might..

I give in, I simply surrender
to this wonderful sense of bliss.
As lucky as I have felt ever
the fates have ordained, as it is.

I'm getting used to this
languorous labor of pleasure,
letting countless days and nights
catch me up to measure..


On a sudden wintry cold day,
this dream comes to an abrupt end.
My life's swiftly stolen away
leaving many broken pieces to mend.

I am swept away by the grief,
I fear my heart breaking apart.
I doubt my love's truth, my belief,
and agonize over that perfect past..

A joy lost before I could even hold,
take my memories to imprint.
Reminiscences of yesterday and old
bring smiles with a teary glint.

As I seek to repair that broken piece
with iron shackles, fetters and a latch,
to myself I make a difficult promise
to never let ardent love to attach.

Trudging along with such a misery
under the burden of such a vow,
I seethe at my misfortune in fury
unable to allow insecurities to go..

I do not know against whom I wage wars-
Against my own uncertain emotions or destiny?
Was it written by those faint distant stars?
Or by someone stronger-a greater divinty?


Spring creeps in on tiptoe,
buds open up to a tender sun-ray,
the frostiness would soon flow,
the chill eventually go away...

The heart has learnt to accept
and tries to move on with life..
I take courage from the floret
that flowers despite winter strife...

March has brought the colors to fore,
Meadow greens, roses red and golden entice..
I have never seen such beauty before-
Was I too busy in mourning to once notice?

I owe my heart to life's such glory-
I'm sure love, as it knows, would understand.
How long can one wallow in melancholy?
How long does one, for grieving sake, lead life so bland?

I tread on tentative steps- not yet
ready to hurl myself head over heels.
I find love but play hard to get,
there's still that promise to deal..

Try as I may, I fail nevertheless.
Love overpowers me yet again,
And I submit easily, helpless
to fight and deny myself a haven..

Bright summer sunbeams seem to melt
my frigid metal bearings.
And again, yet again, I just assent
to flow with springtime tidings..

Yesterday's bitter wounds still pain,
And there's a lot to worry about tomorrow-
But not loving today would go in vain..
Hope is the best, perhaps the only answer to my sorrow..

Hope's been crushed and lost much in past,
and it is but unborn in the time to come-
the only time it promises to last
is today, now- while waiting for the dawn.



I write this extra long poem after finishing James Patterson's- Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas which is "for everyone who's loved and lost and learned to love again".


http://www.orkut.com/CommMsgs.aspx?cmm=18314183&tid=2528808952142235890&na=4

Poetry is dead...

poetry has died a lonely death
overshadowed by mundane musings.
of words and rhythm there- a dearth
created by a dreary view of things.

sonnets do pale in comparison,
as lyrics fall in their stature.
ballads now lie forgotten
in the wake of poetry's departure.

a letter not written to love,
a song not sung from the heart,
all the romance that you could have
its now gone and forever lost.

Milton has died and Keats too.
Frost lies frozen in some corner.
wordsworth an anonymous forgotten hero
Emily and Plath were remembered never.

poetry's death i sit and lament
the magic's gone it seems, forever
if only literary fate would relent
and bring verse back on paper.

we've run out of words now

resorting to banal platitude.

time has finally taken a toll

poetry has failed our fortitude.

all our attempts are futile,
we just dont measure up ~
the passion is missing.a title
for dead poets society's come up.


http://www.orkut.com/CommMsgs.aspx?cmm=18314183&tid=2520683644964833522&na=4

LISTEN TO ME....

i am standing all alone,
at home, at school,
all screaming at me insolently,
my silent tears unproven.

i am waiting for my turn,
for an offence uncommitted,
defenceless and powerless,
i'm beaten till i burn.

i am looking at my reflection
on the shiny marble floor,
cleaned and scrubbed for hours,
my only means for compensation.

i am weaving the fabric,
sequins and stones shining,
with every flash of colour,
a bleak future i pick.

i am gazing at the stars dim,
fireworks lighting up the sky.
with every cracker that you burst,
gunpowder scorches my skin.

i am getting dressed,
ready to be paraded around
and sold to some savage,
of my dignity i'm stripped.

i am lying on my bed,
trying to numb the pain,
the creeping familiar scent
fills my mind with dread and hatred.

i am playing in the park,
a stranger comes and lures me away,
amongst the flowers my innocence snatched,
i'm left with memories dark.

i am the child you all have known,
have seen and ignored always.
i am the child abused,neglected and battered.
i am just a child, have you forgotten????


STOP CHILD ABUSE.

written for 12th Feb'07- Youth Activism Day. Our cause- Stop Child Abuse.

http://www.orkut.com/CommMsgs.aspx?cmm=18314183&tid=2515297766713067762&na=4

I love Dan.

My first memory of him is a scattering of images, smells and sounds. He had long shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes with specks of gold dust in them. The smell of smoke and sweat mixed with cologne hung over him like a cloud. He would keep humming tunelessly some song or be ranting on passionately about something and someone. I used to be awestruck whenever I saw him playing his guitar while Mom sang. If there was anything Mom was passionate in her life, it was music. She lived, breathed music. I was just an accident of this passion as I came to know at a later point in my life.

Mom and Daniel had met up during one of the rallies of the hippie movement. Their passion for music and zest for life had drawn them together. I was barely three when I saw Daniel for the first time. Being with my Mom for three years, I wasn’t much shocked with the appearance of this man one fine afternoon at our doorstep. And I didn’t mind much when he stayed beyond the Sunday afternoon and moved in with us. For one thing, he cared for me more than my Mom ever did.

I used to call him Dan and he used to call me El, Princess Ellie, Lizzie, Liz, Betty, and Queen Beth, anything he felt like at that moment. Mom had named me Elizabeth just because the nurse had suggested it. But Dan would tell me that I was named after Queen Elizabeth and would regale me with stories he made up about the “Exploits of Queen Ellie”. Dan’s always there with El; Dan-I-El, he’d say in a sing song voice. I do not remember when I started calling Dan Dad. It was just natural. I had found a father figure, a guide, a friend in him. All this while, Mom kept growing apart from us. The musical evenings turned silent and cold. I was six, when one morning I woke up to find Mom had gone. She had left us and run off to make a career in the west.

I was an abandoned orphan. Dan could leave me and go away any day. I wasn’t his responsibility. I felt scared, lonely and miserable. I took out the only photo I had of me and Mom together, hid under the dining table and cried and cried. After what seemed an eternity, furiously rubbing my eyes, I looked up to find those liquid brown eyes, gold dust splayed in them, piercing into my bloodshot red eyes.
“You want some breakfast?” he asked as he did everyday.
I didn’t know what to reply. Did he not realize that Mom’s gone, for ever maybe? But I was hungry. I just nodded mutely.
“Or rather you could do with some brunch. Its nearly lunch time.” He said pulling me from under the table and putting me on the tabletop while he made himself busy cooking up something.
“Dad… I mean Dan….” I mumbled haltingly knowing not what to say.
“Listen li’l Elli. I’m your dad and you’d better do as I tell you to do. So sit tight and keep quiet while I cook with all my might. God, I’m going downhill..” he said making a face.
I smiled feebly and controlled my urge to sob in his arms till the afternoon sun died and the burning pain in my heart was doused. He had agreed to take care of me. Maybe he was just being generous and did it out of pity for me. But I accepted his charity greedily. It was then and there that I knew, I just knew that I loved this man and would spend the rest of my life with him. I loved my Dan.

The years passed in a blur of countryside trips, musical evenings and help on school
work. Dan was the perfect father, friend and guide. There was never a dull moment with him around. I excelled in everything that Dan could teach me and that was almost everything- from music, academics to sports- Dan had made me the alpha girl. Till high school I was resolutely oblivious to boys, puppy love and backseat necking. In grad school I thought I could get over my infatuation with Dan. I dated guys and made out with my boyfriend of one week. I even thought I had finally fallen in love with this classmate of mine with whom I had been going out for two years. But after all that time, I came to realize that the only thing I loved about him was his name – Daniel Gordon. I always looked for something of Dan in all of them. The guys who asked me out and with whom I went out could never match up to Dan. After a string of such ‘failures’, I lost interest in the whole dating scene and concentrated on getting my Phi Beta Kappa in History and Literature. It was my graduation gift for Dan.

I had realized by then that I loved Dan in every which way known to the human heart. I was going to be with Dan for the rest of my life, I didn’t have time for flings. I still called him Dad, but in my own private world he was always Dan. He wasn’t my biological father- he was Dan, my foster father. It didn’t matter to me that he was a good 23 years older than me. I thought it perfectly normal to love him as a woman could love any man. All these years I had never seen Dan with any woman other than Mom. Maybe he truly loved her and I felt so jealous that I’d keep wishing wherever she was, she never came back. I would take out her old snaps and pore over them for hours wondering if I resembled her strongly enough and whether Dan would ever love me as he loved her.

My graduation day came. Dan looked handsome in his Sunday best. I was the class valedictorian. He couldn’t have been more proud of me. We went for celebratory dinner that night. Dan was in such good mood he took me to the most expensive nightclub in town. Dan kept ordering drinks and we kept downing them. I could see Dan was getting drunk. I was beginning to feel dizzy.
I grabbed him by his collar and said, “Dan.. yes Dan.. you’re not my father. I love you. I love you and want to be with you forever, not as your daughter but as a woman stays with a man.” With that, I don’t know what took me, but I just kissed him. It was like that one moment spent in a thousand days and a thousand days of joys collapsed in that one moment. I felt like I was born to be with this man.
Dan seemed to be coming to his senses and pushed me away lightly. A photograph fell from his pocket. I picked it up. It was very old.
What I saw made my head spin even more. It was a picture of him and a woman with a heart shaped face, honey colored hair curling at her shoulders, and eyes bluer than mine, holding a baby, in bundles, both of them smiling at me. I looked at Dan seeking any meaning, any explanation to this illusion in front of me.
“That’s you there, when you were just a day old. Yes El, you are my daughter. I am your Dad. And this woman here, your Mom, is the only woman I have ever loved. She had left me once. And she left me again. She left us all that day. Her car crashed. The second time I was lucky she left you behind for me. I see her in you everyday, every living moment….”
I do not remember what he was saying. I had begun to feel claustrophobic all of a sudden. I stormed out. I could hear Dan running after me. I was crossing the street, running away from this man who was my father. I heard a horn being blown loudly, brakes screeching against the gravel behind me.

My last memory of him is lying on the road, smiling, clutching my hand and the photograph, saying, “I love you Ellie… more than anyone in the world…I love you.”
I could see myself; I could see my Mom in those liquid brown eyes, and my tears drowning the gold dust in them. I could hear wailing sirens, the sound coming from some other world. I could feel people pulling me apart from the only person who loved me and whom only I loved, ever, truly ever.

“You look like a real Princess.” Daniel said.
Its been eight years since he’s been gone. I’m standing on the steps of a centuries old church, in the most beautiful white gown with Daniel, a white rose on his lapel. Father O’Donnell has come to see us off.
He kissed me on the cheek and whispered, “You really look like a princess, Mrs. Gordon”

Just days before the ceremony, I had found this box while rummaging through Dad’s (yes my Dad.) things. In there was a white wedding gown with a yellowing card that read- Sara’s, then scrawled in black loopy writing- For my Princess Ellie when I’d give her away to her Prince Charming. I knew it then as I had known it always- I’ll love Dan, forever. And that he loved me, as no one could. Maybe he had come back for my Mom. But he had stayed back for me - Because he was my Dad. Because he loved me, I was his daughter, his Princess Ellie. Dan’s always there with El.

wish you were here..

i wish you were here
to hold my hands tight,
when my palms get sweaty,
wipe them on your shirt.

i wish you were here
to play with my hair,
when they are wind-blown
to entangle your fingers in them.

i wish you were here
to smile at me sheepishly,
when i look suspicious
to give me your toothy grin.

i wish you were here
to share this cola with me,
when you get more than me,
fight,but let me have the last sip.

i wish you were here
to give me your bear hug,
when i'm cold and shivering
hold me warm and still.

i wish you were here
to sing me to sleep,
and when i wake up
to kiss my sleepy eyes.

i wish you were here,
to be my side on the bed,
when i wake up from my dreams,
please step out into my reality.

http://www.orkut.com/CommMsgs.aspx?cmm=18314183&tid=2509077552409348338&na=4