Rainbow

And she stood there

This little angel,

The magic of the stars 

Across the sky,

With her in

Every charm.

She once wore 

A frock ,

As colorful as the rainbows,

Such as
You and I never saw.

A yellow for her smile

A blue for her eyes

A vivid pink for her,

Everflowing heart.

A red for the ones

Who'd cry without her,

A green for every 

Land she awed upon,

A violet for all the 

Flowers she knew

Should have some colour on,
An orange for
All the merry times
She will once cherish
When the rains fall on a slate gray day.
But she for one
Born of a million brilliant lights,
Never kept them in her bag,
For a  smile passed on to her
From every vagabond ,
She stripped and lay the colors
On road,
Bare and running.
And they picked and smiled and waved and vanished,
Into lands she thought were her homes,
Luring colors with flowers that were never fragrant,
A wistful smile upon a wishful face.
Alas! the girl in the rainbow dress
She is left with nothing but
Shadows of colors
Beckoning ghosts of
That were hers
Once!


Image courtesy: www.jwestphotography.com ( Joanne West photography)

The Moon Man

Brown liquid

In the marred moon's heart,

Black vision

In aeons of nebulas.

In stupor 

He sees.

Sometimes vague, sometimes paralysed,

Sometimes marooned, sometimes jaded.

Yet a smile visits

A tender kind soul like his,

That could light up 

A thousand Christmas trees,

When his Venus arrives,

On the same nebula

Where he was

An insomniac,

Dreaming of what could have been.

This small marred

Marooned Moon of mine,

Oh such love that brought

Heaven nearer from the horizons,

And when the tides rose higher

To wash his spirit down,

The jealous sea

As blue as the Venus

He ached for,

He just inflated

Bigger and mightier

Fighting with the cruel Neptune

As hard as it could be,

With nothing

But a smile and a heart,

Even the lion couldn't help

Bringing in.

So this is for my moon

My loony moon,

Who looks bereaved 

Yet has arrived,

And conquered the whole paradise

Silent and small, he still sat!

We, my Friend!

I left the doors open ajar,
My windows bringing a pale grey
Into my heart.
Curtains whispering tales,
Of a thousand dreams
And a few foregone laughters,
Of times that were and will be
Again.
Let them all stream in today,
For we have no tomorrows,
Only todays.
To laugh in the sun,
To dance in the rains
To cry and feel,
In the dark heat of the cold waves
And its pains.
Oh and when the leaves of autumn
Fly into our hearths,
We shall soak it up,
With the tears
Her icicles left us.
Cruel and begrudging she might be,
For we all are anything but
Not without a fault.
So what if she forgot forgiveness, my dear
We still remember love in us
Yet once again!


  Image courtesy: Photos by annekata from flickr.com {source of inspiration rather!}

A STUPID FEELING CALLED INSPIRATION

I sit sleepless ( though not in Seattle, to my dismay or may be not!) and I am trying to get ....

Inspired.

So where does that come from? This word which we utter out in our diction a) if it is either known to us in our sense of vocabulary from mere learning b) if we have the intelligence enough to use it in our sense of vocabulary, instead of a uber 'cool' or a blonde 'huge' and c)if we are truly inspired and swept off by the muse, that the magic makes mythological involuntary quests and forces our beefy thick tongues to utter " I AM ...........................................INSPIRED" ..

And yet, isn't it a shame, that the last instance, forget rarely, but almost never happens!

So yeah, almost bordering my late 20s, I am subjected to write some nonsense in the name of exams, voluntarily and the opposite of it, in equal measures, when my grey cells have already started making their routine complaints for retirement pensions, and in my pensive mood I am looking around for inspiration, in thin air. Or some osmotic magic that might lead me to the haven of bliss, where everything but a frown on the face happens.

Not even a diligent, worked up room mate is going to help the arrogant in me.. So I decide to get inspired by ....................................NOTHING.

And I sit by sleepless ( Oh now I truly wish I was in Seattle! ) thinking about all the things I know I could do which is ............. EVERYTHING ( Except for biting a live snake.. I am no Christian Bale!)

So here I am, as I am, still waiting for the moment of Nirvana to happen to me. When I know I have almost gone blind, deprived of hunger,losing vision thanks to a mundane, monotonous routine, in a much despised place where 'monks' reside ( even within "inverteds" it looks like a neat joke hehe ) patiently queued up ahead the ticket counter of happiness-yet-to-happen.

And I hear a knock on my door. Only to open it and see that sunshine had back long arrived home and is still waiting to inspire me..