Showing posts with label fleeting passion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fleeting passion. Show all posts

Friday, April 8, 2011

Open

I will not be broken-hearted
If you refuse to look at me.
Life is sometimes like a sky somewhere
Where birds don't fly free.


Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Terrains

Another journey. Another rain. Take me home, the roads whisper. Take me where you have never been.



  

Monday, April 12, 2010

Silhouette

So, I was walking with me, and I looked ahead and saw this perfect sunset over the city.


Hope you love this glimpse.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Misty!

The mist rolls
into tall trees
into crannies of leaves
filling their veins
in soft, white, fluffy love.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Saturday, March 20, 2010

I think of You

I wonder about this woman from centuries ago, hidden in my unknown lineage. This woman, bound to wait in silence with a roaring sea inside her heart. Life was different then, but the spirit of the soul was the same.
I wonder about how she might have gazed furiously yet hopefully, out into the future - the world lit only by her eyes.
Would she have known that years hence, in this time frame, in this tiny instant, on a warm summer night, in the shadows of the lights shining from the street, I shall think about her, crystal clear?

I wonder about her, and our fate that is the same and one. Her atoms in me, mine in her. I wonder if she would agree that I am like her - grey shades of black and white.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Passion

You want to own, possess, that person in a way he cannot possibly hope to own himself.
You want to feel attached to the things he hate, thankful that they don't belong to him.
You will love the roads through which he has gone. The wind that might have caressed him. The skies that might have been touched by his eyes. The walls on which his hands might have rested. You want to own him without his knowing. You take the ways you think he took. You take in the wind which, you believe, has seen his heart. You envy the places he thinks highly of. You can't bear to think of him in another way, in another day.

You want to listen to him. You know he might not have interest in what you want to hear.. But the possibility of listening to him about anything, for all the times you will spend with him - like the thought of walking to the end of earth, under blue skies, by the blue seas, under trees shedding leaves, crossing bridges with the bluest water flowing for ages beneath them, with him - appeals you.

He possesses you as a passion.

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Summers of Love


Listen to the dive of a sea-gull,
And to a blooming bud.
Open your palm
And uncrumble the feather.

You lived in tiny summers of love,
Between sighs and longing.
I swam in winter pools,
Like mist on window panes.

Now, in autumn,
I want to walk on burning coal
To douse the ember in your glance.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Your Things

I think of things
A faltering step on a sheet of ice,
Bending down to pick up a feather
Sunlight on a young boy's hair..

Turning around to see who called your name
Laughing with an old friend, for an old joke,
Bear-hug from a loved one..

A juicy bite of orange-green mango
The music from a little girl's anklet
Whispers with no end..

I think of things..
Create a dough, shape into pages,
Blur the drawings with misty eyes
And dream for your dream to come true..

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Doori

Mujh thak pahunchne ka
Tumhaara safar lambaa hein.

Raah mein bheed hein, shor hein,
Hein tumhe chaahnewaale
Aur tumhe doondnewaale.
Aur haan, tumhe meri thalaash bhi nahi hein.

Friday, April 11, 2008

They and me. Connected.

I have seen people pass me by,
Whirlwind in their worlds.
I have seen how they make
How they break
Maybe how they take
This breeze around me.
A coldness is stirred to go on.
A feeling I had never known.
It was in the wind
It is in my ways
Swirling through my nights,
It is in my days.

I wonder if people feel
How it is before it is not.
How the touch and the glimpse
Fell before they were lost.
A rare shade of blue
Lost in another stroke.
With the snowflakes long gone
Oh! How this coldness goes on and on.
It was in the wind
It is in my sighs.
Clinging to the lashes,
Now it is in my eyes.