Oxymoron

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The Oxymoron of Us

You were my "bitter sweet" memory,
A "silent scream" in my heart’s melody.
We shared a "loud whisper" of endless talks,
Yet now we’re "alone together" on different walks.

A "clearly confused" soul you used to be,
Asking of oxymorons so playfully.
You were my "constant change", my "trusted doubt",
Now just a "living ghost", fading out.

Our "jumbo little" moments still feel
so near,
Yet this "sweet sorrow" brings me here.
A "familiar stranger", gone so fast,
Yet in my heart, you’ll always last.

I hope you're "happily sad" wherever you stand,
With a "heavy lightness" of life's demand.
And if you ever recall our days anew,
Just know, I still remember you.

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Aren't you torn between the light and darkness?
The greatest evil of all times or to be the most gentle soul out there
To embrace the pain of the whole world or to be in your own solitude
To conquer capitalism or to surrender for someone's smile

Aren't you torn?

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I want to talk about him , his likes , dislikes , science, emotions , friends, family , conditions , ghosts , movies , songs and what not
but then he says we don't have much to talk about ......

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I didn't understand what an Oxymoron was
until I realised you are both my first & last love.

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With the deafening silence of Oxymoron.
A silent breath, a sudden spark , from darkness, life begins to mark. A tender bloom, a mystery unfolds a new life born.
My parents called me a good child and teachers as a brilliant student. I am not an artist but did excel in most of it. I am not a good spouse but have lived with my spouse for decades. I am not a great Dad but they call me so. I am called a good teacher, professor, mentor, coach, administrator and leader. Google calls me a scholar, apple and Saregama call me that I am a singer, some organisations call me I am a social worker, many bodies awarded me a leader. Some sportively call me a sportsman. All I know is that I am perfectly imperfect. Life is a profound mystery, a tapestry woven, in every thread, A treatment to life, until the find thread .

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We- An oxymoron, a paradox


He was a Cancer
She was a Leo.

He smelled of sandalwood
and camphor,
She burned like embers
of inferno and desi ghee.

He mostly felt like
temperate and polar regions,
While she consisted of
equatorial and tropical
zones.

His aura spoke like
the Arctic and Antarctic
Circle,
She illuminated like
the Tropic of Cancer
and the Tropic of Capricorn.

— % &He didn't follow philosophy
And she was an inherent
philosopher,
He spoke in colloquial jargons
She mastered the art of poetic
diction
He declared himself as agnostic
She followed the path of bhakti.


He was a golden retriever
And she, a black cat.










— % &They were both gentle
and strong, with those
proportions often reversed.


One year later,
Murari became their
common ground.
— % &

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I Miss You As I Miss You
(A Triple Tanka)

And I miss you like
I miss the rhyme for rain's reign;
You're a metaphor
For a dreary deep-sea shore
I am braving no-see Reich.

Your many a phrase,
I do through reveries chase;
Your allit'ration—
A similie for passion—
Ah, slays me in summation.

It's an irony—
You're such an oxymoron—
That your pure presence
In sheer harrowing absence
Is a beautiful turn-on!

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For escaping from your own destructive thoughts,
You have to think differently...

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Might be empty, or full of doubts.
May be a secret, Lightning’s house;
When it rains, she shouts out loud.

Who can solve the jumble ?
What the nature hold ?
Ignorantly believing ,
In the folklores we were told.

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