love’s.

love’s undeniable forms

its mysterious undertakings

coiling a heart on verge of itself

as if a magical syrup colors a sky blue

its rhythms so soft, so consistent

such painful yet overwhelming happiness

of being alive, its essence fluidly fulfilling

all depths, all heights, all air tainted in its play

hardly recognizable transparent states

constantly making one continue to live

continue to be overjoyed by the presence of another

childish wants, pleasant smiles, all forms magnificent

partake a self that would otherwise be lost

in the loneliness of this black universe

where a few stars ignite the path

how far away our existences

yet such a beautiful net of love’s

tying us to safety, to avoid the torments

of being in the unknown, where nothingness reigns

love’s whispers reinforce what

none others could.

on birthdays.

someone smiles for you

just for your well-being

someone’s there to remember it for you

adding importance to your existence

tender emotions spilled across this day

this one day that fills so much joy

to have been born

to have been healthy and well so far

it reminds one of everything in the past

and fills all hope for a future

you meet friends who love you

your family that showers you with gifts

wishes from one and all and its all so meaningful

the depth of the blue sky deepens

and our eyes become kinder and softer that day

since our heart’s been touched in or the other way

we feel grateful, happy and contented

even for a little while the world turns beautiful

and we seem to recognize our preciousness

within its humble womb.

throbbing.

 

what significant pain lies

in a strand of me

such delicate agony belongs in me

i wonder how its born this disturbing song

a reverberating music that mutilates me

cuts off my edges, cornering me

no place to take refuge as i become my enemy

a body so human, a sensation so own

a gradual decline of consciousness seems

like the end of this world

all colors fade

all faces forgotten

slowly regressing to a state of a mere atom

in the end as it explodes into a pure nothingness

i fail to realize anymore of anything

i drown in black

consumed into infinity almost

like a mirage dissolving into a thinning air.

an inch of carvation.

this terrible feeling of utter overwhelmingness
i am alone

this place where i tread like a ghost is my home
this mighty place

such pure its roots, its ancient floors, full of scratches
on their humble face

robbed of modernity stands my feet in sweat and soil
i would not move from here

being here, grounded deeper than ever, i feel completely composed
so rotten to the core

its almost delicious, this experience where
i am overcome with

an element that isn’t myself, a friend whom i have forever known
in his embrace i stand lost

i feel a heavy heart, my mind is full of grey clouds
everything dissolving into air, like mist

and all i hear are my own confusing murmurs
my mind’s endless whispers

my ears boil with them, flooded in noiseless noises
withering like a last note of music

but why then am i alive, just here and nowhere else
i am wandering in a circle

regardless of my forced attempts, nothings moving
inside a thin wall i am freezing

sculpted my body, i feel the cells, the blood gushing
my tender pains, and active rhythms

inhumanly grasping to details so worthless yet inevitable
even my life becoming insignificant

because i am merely tearing to parts this scenery that stands
nowithstanding any reasons that interfere

i alone own this world, i alone have access to its myths
and i alone seem to know, even now, the least.

Enter the title.

writing prose and poetry is different. the sensuality of few words of poetry is lost in the crowd of many in prose. somewhat a rhythm being misspelled it feels like a song gets angered on the verge of converting itself into a prose.

the same goes for line separations. without them it  would feel like there is no skin to poetry. the gaps are like those silent echoes of the heart, as it slowly and eventually absorbs deep meanings from the verses.

silence is the most beautiful causation of any form of poem, it instigates the birth of that first verse, that first attempt as it breaks free from the shackles of worldly bondings. chains are broken, fences are torn and that mere destruction of an envelope allows a poet to become.

that’s where it hurts.

when i extend a hand
without the slightest of hope
and it gets rejected as expected

when i think i have found
yet in the end i lose
it pains to see what i lost

those weird feelings
that seem so close
yet draws away from me

distance from what i love
endless dreams spilled
into mere blur reflections

sometimes when belief
gets trampled and
affections turn black

that slow poisoning of heart
those crazy formations
of a gullible mind

so overwhelming can
a sunset be for the soul
that eyes spill an ocean

when happiness may have bloomed
yet grief returns leaving
tons of weight added to heart

sometimes when a soft smile
is heartlessly stolen
and life seems meaningless

that’s where it hurts
to know what could have been
and what ended up to be

and life’s sweetness turns
drop by drop to sour
and nothing remains to be done

when all change appears
like fragile hallucinations
of an aimless life

that’s when it really hurts.

 

---

 

 

i have seen the depths of a destroyed life up close and personally. i have experienced innumerable moments of guilt and contemplation and it seems like these feelings of rejection and sadness can be very sickening. this poem is to acknowledge the pain many feel in life’s unfortunate circumstances because i believe that to overcome pain one must first accept its existence and its strength. it is only then that the healing can begin and life can change for the better.

 

he calls them sunset years
the years that went by faster
or slower than most
he felt a slight distress
at the sight of incomplete ambitions
he looked out the window for hours
went out on walks longer than hours
just so he could ponder
on the meaning his life achieved
after all these years
as i see him sitting there
on his easy chair
all i can think of is his importance
his place in our lives
whom he created, fed and
gave the tools to survive
how powerful he seems
how mysterious he appears
to my young eyes
as he calmly reads his morning paper
over a cup of tea
unworried yet deep in thought
still like a forest tree
silent like a mountain lake
he has reached in front of us
huge altitudes
vast landscapes
deep oceans
he has attained
a world for himself and us
and now he rests, reserves
his vitality, smiles often
feels relieved at the sight of us
his laughter growing lighter
his eyes being able to see much more
i am scared, i am thrilled
of his strength here and now
as he ages well, as he ages with reminiscence
as he ages with a kind of love
i have never seen before.

 

---

 

this is to my dad whom i love more than the whole world…

if i can, you…

in a world
filled with faces

if i can hear
in the noise

just your heart
your voice

what makes you
stand out

in a place filled
with unknowns

i wonder when
where we connect

hands that have
alien bodies

holding them
without reasons

how we fall
in deep emotions

from mere warmth
that permeates through

and how we find
our way out of the sea…

emotions are being so brutally uncovered by science that i wonder sometimes whether it is uncoverable because there is always an element of incompletion in these kinds of human investigations because certain fragments are incomprehensible even to human eyes… the fragments of love and life.

thoughts from an aging cup.

through the cups of time
life’s fragile essence flows
we were once born and 
lived with love, with joy and sadness
we jumped, we fell, we walked, we ran
terrains we crossed
emotions we tossed
we played near rivers
on streets
on tables we sat
watching the world mesmerized
thinking about ourselves
placing us in delicate arms of
circumstance
we had reasons
we made mistakes
we succeeded and
we failed
we thrived nevertheless
holding on through
trials and errors
we slowly paced to a ripeness
and as we stand here and think
we have lived
whatever it was
we tried and we had the courage
to live like ourselves
to always be positive
looking ahead at all times
believing, perspiring, willing
and always speaking 
from our deepest selves
we have come now to a place
where everything appears
golden, not the times
but the color of what passed
of what is, of what follows
even the struggles carry
a distinct hue of its own
as we surpass
in age, experience, knowledge and wisdom
all those that are alive
all those who shall come 
people who will remember
and those that will acknowledge
our attempts, love, efforts and achievements
we have had our time creating 
and now we are adding 
those beautiful finishing touches
to a rich landscape of memories
which we so fondly made 
for our loved ones
just so we can be there
in words, in thoughts, in sighs
and in a lot many smiles…

“ageing is the pinnacle of beauty
the saffron on the horizon of life
a piece of art…

accomplished.”

light and dark.

 

i’m still

mesmerized in the dance

that light following dark

an eternal puzzle

my mind is blank

i am pathetically happy

at the state of myself

where the more i discover

more downtrodden i feel

so i clap hands

and continue at my feet

crossing more images

of perplexity’s real face

i wonder if i should speak

i ponder over my silence.

under a sky so wide.

we hide
tiny things
slowly hiding
what we can

there are secrets
humiliating, embarrassing
sometimes not much and yet
we are scared

fear reverberates
small corners of our heart
silently making us believe
that we can’t

sometimes
the blue hurts
under that wide sky
we feel so much small

our tiny fingers
covering our whispers
slowly engulfing our
innocence

we forgot to laugh
to play and run away
without feeling guilty
we are now conscious

much more than we must
we grieve
we regret
and worry about random things

our world grows smaller
and smaller
so does our sky
as it shrinks and fits inside pockets

we fix our gaze
on our darkness
so much so that
we are unable to look

at the sky which
is still the same
still so fresh and
still so vast and inviting

only if i did extend my hand
i shall reach
my own dreams
i must be able to free

under a sky
so wide
where my heart’s seen
such sadness that overshadows life

i wish i can
open loose my soul
and let it evaporate
to those heights that breathe.

perspectives.

they shake me
move me
to unknown places

when i think
that this is what i think
i am awestruck

is this how things
have been
all this time?

that mere reflection
quakes the earth
beneath my twin feet

so weird
how unpredictable
this feeling is

being wrong
strikes the most
when self-perceived

an unseen world
of holes in the sky
appears

and one is unable to
get rid of this
realization

perspectives
must be changed
by one’s own

it cannot be forced
it can be inspired though
but never told

they are created
through arduous journeys
through each of one’s failures

one learns to
trust
or let go

and it is
for survival
a vital part

since sails are
meaningless on shores
so are anchors in a storm.

trust?

i wonder
if you will
hold my hand
and allow me
to lead

i think its hard
for you to believe
in my vision
in my direction
or my path

its tough to
follow me
for you don’t
trust me
not anymore

so where should i
walk now
where should i
head to
and where must i stand?

if i have none
to hold me
my hands will
sway
to the stormy wind again

and i shall wander
and be lost
for long
and
for good

so trust i believe
is the root
that holds me
its your hand
that i need

yet i cannot grab it
its not up to me
to reach out rather
its up to you
to race up to me

to ground me
when i evaporate
and to give me a
tiny place
to stay.

little girl.

someone i see
i hear
i feel, i run to
and fall

like a little girl
playing with waves,
i play
with life

something here
someone there
a never ending
phase

progress
seems blur
as everything loses
a face

i behold words now
much more
much like a little girl
hiding herself behind wall

peeking just a tiny bit
to see if its safe
to come out
and to smile again

scared sometimes
to reach out
thinking will they
hurt me, those hands

should i
stop
or should i run
or fly like a little petal

the plains seem
inviting, this world
its games seem
frightening

yet where else to go
my home’s breaking down
i can only run
from a downpour

looking for a place
to be safe
from forces that rule
a human terrain

how long will
innocence last
or how long will
i be able to smile

like a little girl
i think, sometimes
like her i hold tight
to a sheet

looking out
i feel the surge
of a thousand unknown
feelings in me.

keep breathing.

because…
there comes another day when the sun always glows
should i say that? or

because…
life continues as long as you continue to struggle, to survive
is that really true? or

because…
whoever you love, or how much, is but an illusion, somehow
that’s not very convincing, is it? or

because…
beneath all tragedy lies the comedy of nature and
if I say it like that? or

because…
one comes alone, and one leaves alone and everything else
is it just a mirage? or

because…
living for others is futile, and living for oneself is vain yet
is the party worth the effort? or

because…
there is always something that keeps changing, tis’ amusing
ah, now does that sound good? or

because…
there is one more poem left in your heart, till the very end
so is it really not an escape? or

because…
no matter how much drunk i am the world still seems quivering
in pain? in hunger? in deep emptying sadness? or

because…
nothing is permanent so, enjoy it while you can
so you call selfishness in? or

because…
no matter you live or die doesn’t matter so,
isn’t it better to keep breathing?

hmm… i agree.

draw.

an old man

this peaceful plunge
into an abyss

a calm surrender
of stuttering lips

a deep contemplation
clouding the mind

a glimpse of world
no one’s seen

is there when the world
shifts its paradigm

as life’s channels
change its swiftness

as age brings upon
a deep sense of maturity

yet incompleteness
the same rainbow seems old

a lot of things lose colors
like the sunflower’s smile

or the butterfly’s joy
or even perhaps one’s own skin

loses its fresh textures
and becomes grayish with time

yet it is neither a win
neither a loss

one sets out with dreams
some drag on, some fall and stop

and everything keeps moving
as one persists with slow will

and everything seems to change
its meaning, its reasons

even the self, changes
even the best, tarnishes

its a draw, a part of the game
where you don’t have choices

where choices seem like jokes
made by cheerful kindergärtners

where the young look at you
and turn away in disinterest

in such a stage of life
if you have a family then

you want them to acknowledge
and if they don’t, you sulk

and sigh, and whine, and silently cry
with your head down, touching the earth

its time to stop
the chase

its time to perhaps accept
a change, that changes with change

and its time to realize
the wonders that happen

as one lives in the now
and cherishes everything he has

without being picky
about the tastes life throws upon

its best to smile
at all times

cause its the most beautiful thing
to smile

when you know that even that
is a short-lived and a precious experience

for the lips that hold a sense
and a soul that feels its reach.. on the other end.

 

the catalogue.

i spilled milk
on my bare hands
watched the liquid
run away like
clouds
washing my fate
seems like i have
learnt something from life
or maybe i heard it somewhere before
that everything
has a reason
has a reason to exist
everything happens for a purpose
because
even anger can lead
to achievements
every wave
strong enough
reaches the shore
and crashes there
with a huge noise
changing the face
of the sandy hills
making a print of its voice
a catalogue of its existence
like winds that sail the ships
in a direction unknown
yet meaningful
there is always a path that’s created
and everything happens
on its own
although the forces that change
may not always be natural
yet the connection remains
for even in a hibernation of an egg
a larva silently moves
its thoughts forming
vitality’s ripples
inside the calm warmth
of its own cosmos
wrapped in the womb of nature’s wonders
its true
that man changes this world
but he cannot do anything if nature did not give him
the resources which he exploits
for a joy that he experiences
and the eventual tragedies that he faces
things even out
in the end
there is always an ebb
for a tide.

cast.

beauty is
what i cast
in my garden
as a flower blooms
i watch it bloom
i grow as it grows
and smile with it
shine with it
and a part of me
die as
it dies in my eyes
in my eyes
a world ends there
a child’s been lost
and i am empty again
so i grow life
once more
in the same soil
i grow life’s seeds
and watch them grow
make them smile
and share in their joy
of life’s spec
a little light
in this vastness
that surrounds me
in the force
of the forces that
move me
i relish the pace
as i revolve around stars
mingle with planets
and watch
the moods of the moon
i sleep inside
petals soft
and feel their warmth
so soft and temporary
that it makes me want to
hold on a little more
a little more
of life
in my palms
and caress
with love
all things worth loving
live with those
that glow like the sun
and die like the northern star
weaving in memories
an eternity
to compensate for
death’s ecstasy.

you will find more~

surprises
in this world are
unlimited and
in every corner
waiting
for your attention

dream and
don’t lose heart
since a wonder awaits you
at all times
you just have to look
closely, patiently

the serene surprises
and brilliant coincidences
are scattered
and wild
forgotten ever since made
they are still alive

you will find more
and not be exhausted in
your journeys and searches
since
there is always one buried
in a corner

just when you thought
there is nothing more
that can be done
a new opportunity arises
and breaks your assumption

its precisely this that
makes this world
an amazing place
you get hope
in a hopeless place
and love
out of a loveless human

you thought
maybe that’s all there is to dreams
and you can dream no more
yet you always will
and will always find
that they just get richer
and brighter
every  single time

the steps you take
each fill you with experience of a former
and yet
some time in the next few seconds
you will step like
never before
and conquer
a new land for yourself
a new experience

that’s the truth
an ephemeral reality
a transitory perception
and it has patterns
that none can ever guess
its reality
in real
as mysterious
as any puzzle
that was made to perplex mankind
for all of eternity.

for reasons none .

there was a dimness
no matter how hard we tried
it was there
like an endless plague
infecting us
day and night
again and again
we walked away
we danced and swayed
like drunken monsters
and infected shadows
ran after mysterious callings
there were ways
but they were stolen and broken
bridges that led to nowhere
and for reasons none
we pained
our hearts over
trivial issues
that never caused a smile
or a laughter upon our faces
neither did we feel warmth
from the ponderings
from persistently following
problems
all over our lands
we were tired, broken,
pestered beyond levels of tolerance
and yet we continued
cruelly aging
before it was time
growing weaker and sicker
and torn like
used dolls
as if for reasons none
we survived this world
and never achieved anything
worth achieving
we ignored precious moments
let go of gifts that were ours to cherish
we slept in sunshines
and dragged with us dark and lonely nights
we ruined every part of
our vitality with
swords of deliberate ignorance
and for reasons none
we made a world around
that crumbled right above our thick heads
shattering everything
holy and divine
within us
like a pack of cards
falling
we fell
in our own eyes
for reasons…

none.