I leave this.....

When i leave this unfinished
there are many other things
to be finished first...

I lay on my back and look at the roof..
moving fan... Air brushing my cheeks..
every thing is changing, changing with
time...

change will go on...
With course of time
I'll get addicted with., this pain,
these tears..
the pain will vanish with another injury...
and tears will dry...
I'll smile... on my......

I leave this unfinished...
I am reminded of other things
which need to be finished
before i finish this....

Market of Corpse

Benches aligned together
I see from distance,
Green rectangular board
on the wall ahead,
I am sitting on bench...
interacting with friends
I hear a sound ...
Loud enough to make me deaf
Its all black, as if
I have gone blind,
or shut my eyes tight
I see dust,
I see blood everywhere,
In my lap...
I see hands of a friend,
But her body is no where to be seen..,
I cry for help
I shout and howl..
It seems market of corpse
where no body to sell
and no one to buy,
I make my way through the market,
I feel pain and stress
I try to hold the pillar
But I see no arm
And I realise
the hand was mine
in my lap......

My daughter

I am sitting on stairs
I lift my eyes
I see my daughter,
I see myself in her
She is struggling to built a castle,
castle of sand.
I still remember ,the day I felt her...
I knew all by my own she'll be a girl...
and I even knew what she'll be...
she became my possession,
I could make all my dreams come true...
I could see the coming world through her eyes.
Today,I wait for the day when
She'll clutch my hands and will
take her first step....
But its been two years and still I wait.
Doctor says,"she'll need clutches to walk..
Not my hands..."
my ears listen,my eyes see...
my brain stops working and...
my heart never believes
then I see her,
struggling for her doll
and I run to give her...
she smiles and places a
kiss on my forehead..,
tears roll on my face and her
eyes question me...
and I am reminded of her first touch
when she was placed in my arms
and first time she looked at me.

Creation is all miracle

Creation is all miracle
Laying under the sheath
feeling the
warmth of Morpheus....
I feel water on my face
salty in taste,
Oh...! am I crying?
Why the white land...
turns in red ocean,
life has turned a mot to me
or I have turned in mot,
Plaintively I smile
not to smile, But make
others feel, I am happy
in their world,
or
creation of their land..
where each petal of rose
throw the fragrance
of cajole...
the art which I always failed to learn..,
it was a castle,
built in my dreams
When it toppled my dreams
got buried in rubble....
salty water was all I felt
when I opened my eyes
all I saw
was tinged in blue
but I desist to believe and....
so I smile ,I am happy
in their world
Creation is indeed all miracle

It's all i don't presume to be...

It is what, all
I don't presume to be
It's all what you call lanky
all you say languish
the ablaze of life
averse or vivaciously,
but all i had
has gone with time
I am not a muse
but ironically i try to
be....
gulosity of gustation
or its just ploy to
survive....

why am i surrounding myself
with bitter of hail..?
why this blaze..?
strange..
I am on verge of dwindle
still I say
vivaciously I live,
where is the fervour..?
where is the flame...?
I stand as oread, in between hail,
I opine to oppilate
I stand as arbitrator
where i osculate the
pallor of my life, Ah..! willingly
all i stand again
but it is all
what I don't presume to be...