Epiphany
Its stands tall
stronger with age;
unmoving:so fatherly
Its spreads all around
and tucks me within;
Warm:so motherly
That noon it dawned upon me
Some realities are better than dreams.
The traveller was tired, scared to the bone
but it all made sense when he found a home
-
MEDIOCRE
is it not okay to be lost in crowds and applaud for else?
is it not okay to be the dark background for the flashing limelight?
is it not okay to be a learner amidst the acievers?
is it not okay to just watch a marathon instead of racing?
is it not okay to be the futile dark rocks in a diamond mine?
is it not okay to not have all the rainbow colours?
is is not okay to be invisible but just as present as the air?
is it not okay to be the star that appears dim?
is it not okay to just reflect the lights if you can't be one?
is it not okay to be just words if not verses?
is it not okay to have sound sleep when other bees are busily buzzing?
is it not okay to dream things that defy reality?
is it not okay to feel afraid?
is it not okay to slow down on rough roads?
is it not okay to feel vulnerable?
is it not okay to keep hopes instead of belief?
is it not okay to rise up in an ordinary mould?
is it not okay to be nowhere near the hall of fame?
is it not okay to feel okay if I couldn't be anyone but myself?
is it not okay to not become anything but mediocre?-
She
Society says
"She should silently suffocate"
Still Stacy shall scream sufferings.
"She should sit scared"
Still Stella stands strong.
"She should seed springs"
Still Sara surfaced storms.
"She should see sparkly skirts"
Still Sejal seeks starry skies.
"She should sacrifice,she should satisfy,
She should sew,she shall stew,
She should serve,she should spoon
She should survive shadowed selfhood"
Still Scarlett strolled streets,Samantha sailed seas
Selena skiied snows,Susane scaled summits.
She solves,she saves
She's surely significant.
She's sweet sugar,she's salt sprinkled scar
She's silly, she's smart
She's surreal, she's sensible
she's soul's synonym ,she's sentence's start.-
Spilled
And as I was placing
the left milk back in the fridge
it spilled.
Around the containers
under the fruit basket
seeping down the edges
dripping off a corner
ever spreading like a fresh lit fire.
I stared at the mess
wondering how quickly have the years
trickled down.
How mumma is no more here
to come running and scolding,
to sprinkle bits of magic
and make it alright again.
Somehow,as if by chance
I have become a big kid now
I have to deal with my spills myself
Can I ever escape this maze?-
What's In A Name
What's in a name when it is just a noise.
Just some sounds strung together
in a wisp of air that finds its way
sliding down the tongue through the
slit between the lips.
Name is just a hustle on our eardrums,
a thud on our brains.
Sometimes a piercing through heart.
Name is just a sound that creates boundaries
between piles of atoms that are all same otherwise.
Name is an address which everyone can see
but only one can own.
Name is a doorbell to that address that calls only for your attention-
Just like strength that rushes through the playground when little sara calls him in her scream
Just like the solitude that comes flying across galaxies when the breeze whispers its name
Just like amusement that creeps in for moments when he hears his name in fluttering wings
Just like contentment who waves to you when he hears a pat on your back.
Someone named nostalgia as the popping sound of bubble wraps
Someone christened hope as the ringing of temple bells
Someone labelled fear as thundering clouds
And then the world asks what's in a name!-
How Poets Write Poems
Floating in red ink blood
Words are coming out tearing my veins
I am searching for a paper to spill it onto
I run downstairs
I catch my breath as I grab a pen
Taking forever to inhale
Everything suddenly turns into an old album
As I slowly exhale out myself
(now read bottom top)
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