I woke up the way I do
-everyday,
The sun was red in the eastern front
And I remembered Red is the colour of blood and wine...
And Red reminds me of the roses
Dying every day
In your garden, in mine;
In the florist's shop round the corner...
Opening eyes, I found
Redness of wrath strewn all over,
In shapes weird and woobly,
In forms liquid and sticky
Like rivulets of wine ...
'Apocalypse is here'
Someone cried;
'doomsday befell us'
Shouted another;
I only saw roses on the graves!
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Cobalt Moon
O Cobalt moon,
Colour me in your hue,
Colour me the way you are,
So happy and true;
O Cobalt moon,
Teaser of the night,
Colour me the way you are,
So shiny and bright;
Colour me blue,
Colour me white,
Colour me to live,
Colour me like bride;
Colour me silver,
Colour me pale,
Colour me to live through
All storms and the gale;
O Cobalt moon,
Why can't I borrow?
Your paintbrush and palette,
And colours of sorrow?
Colour me in your hue,
Colour me the way you are,
So happy and true;
O Cobalt moon,
Teaser of the night,
Colour me the way you are,
So shiny and bright;
Colour me blue,
Colour me white,
Colour me to live,
Colour me like bride;
Colour me silver,
Colour me pale,
Colour me to live through
All storms and the gale;
O Cobalt moon,
Why can't I borrow?
Your paintbrush and palette,
And colours of sorrow?
Friday, October 2, 2009
monideepa unlimited
Standing under her pink dotted umbrella,
She stood like a paper cut- out,
Singular existence...
She was thinking hard
For her eyes were half closed;
Lost in deep thought, perhaps,
As idiot me stood
Like an orphan
Under her pink umbrella same;
Did she mumble?
Did her eyelids bat?
I tried hard to fathom her,
Using my teethless groping mind...
And there she stood
As if struck by some serpent of unholiest kind;
Rain drops fell
Following a zigzag pattern
Down the cloth fringes,
Like molten lead-
Pure and Shiny drops...
A little distance away
Down the busy street,
Cars honk and run
Weaving curious simmering patterns of light
On wet, slippery road
And I thought,
God must be the pyrotech...
'You're crazy!'
She said finally,
Her eyebrows twisted upwards
Corrugated...
And hustled across the wet road
To meet a creature -
Better than me perhaps,
From every count;
I watched
Her going back
Stilettos black, brown purse, pink umbrella,
Swinging hip crossing the road
Abandoning an idiot by the heap;
I waited
Like the ancient sage in his cave,
High up in the hills,
Covered by ashes and soot
And snow-capped silence.
She stood like a paper cut- out,
Singular existence...
She was thinking hard
For her eyes were half closed;
Lost in deep thought, perhaps,
As idiot me stood
Like an orphan
Under her pink umbrella same;
Did she mumble?
Did her eyelids bat?
I tried hard to fathom her,
Using my teethless groping mind...
And there she stood
As if struck by some serpent of unholiest kind;
Rain drops fell
Following a zigzag pattern
Down the cloth fringes,
Like molten lead-
Pure and Shiny drops...
A little distance away
Down the busy street,
Cars honk and run
Weaving curious simmering patterns of light
On wet, slippery road
And I thought,
God must be the pyrotech...
'You're crazy!'
She said finally,
Her eyebrows twisted upwards
Corrugated...
And hustled across the wet road
To meet a creature -
Better than me perhaps,
From every count;
I watched
Her going back
Stilettos black, brown purse, pink umbrella,
Swinging hip crossing the road
Abandoning an idiot by the heap;
I waited
Like the ancient sage in his cave,
High up in the hills,
Covered by ashes and soot
And snow-capped silence.
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