Dear Lord of the World

Dear Lord of the world,

have you found another

— a more promising one,

where men are not made of matchsticks

and the air doesn’t taste of iron?



Where egos are less flammable,

and hearts untrained in killing.



Tell me— have you seen forests there,

green as mercy,

trees that refuse to bow to men or to machine?



Are there words for hunger there—

or mine, sorrow, war, famine, hope?



Lord of the world,

Lord of two worlds—

Tell me this :

have you found another world like mine,

and have thus forsaken us ?

Metamorphosis.

This monsoon, I realised.
It was pouring outside
And I shut my windows
Drew my curtains
Cutting any signs of the drizzle
Or the diffused light
Morning or night
I didn't care

The eternal romantic that I was

It changed.

Life - it is such.

Life isnt a bed of roses
Or a path of thorns
Its so much more
Its a lull
A void, devoid
Its puzzling 
The pain isnt the prick
Its the indifference with which it treats you
Like a non concerned lover
Like an unloved romantic
Life is love, ignored
A failed relation, in struggle
It isnt a bed of roses
Or a path of thorns

Moon.

I.

Coming spring I'll count on you,
and by the window I'll wait for you, 

O patient moon.

II.

My moods like you many faces,
Sometimes bright and sometimes gloomy.
I wish I could marry you, moon.

III.

Are you upset with me moon ?
It is but not my fault
for the cloud ministry did not sanction my request.

IV.

I do not think it will work between us.
It is not about love, 

just that you are too predictable , moon.

V.

How could I not be upset
My birthday and you were not present,
Moon.

VI.

The sun detests
The moon desires
Its the dusk that interests me.

Spring.

I.

A blue bud sneakily takes a peek,

Transformed by what she saw, forever.

Such is spring !!!


II.

Spring, it alters souls.

Groggy buds open up everywhere,
Like a bunch of introverts, mingling


III.

Buds and bachelors,
Cease to be.
Spring is a lovers time.

Wish.

If I were an eagle,

I'd prey on unsuspecting hearts.

Utopia

Will I have it all one day
I house I'll share with my love
A car I'll ride in with him
A farm where we grow our vegetables
And trips overseas we would take.
In this age of inflation
Love is hard to find.

At The Brink.

It just piles on
The burden of failures
Unresolved and unread
My biography will be a confused artwork
Of just greys and blues.