A walk in the woods, an autumn evening

A walk in the woods, quiet and forsaken,
As the season of autumn just sets in.
Trees are a thousand pillars, holding the skies aloft,
And the falling leaves trace a road, paved with gold.


A gentle cool breeze, accompanies me on the stroll,
She smells of earth and burnt wood in hearths.
The sun softly sinks away from the zenith,
And the blue sky is a pastel of orange and pink.


The merry brook plays a rippling lyre, on the stones
And the roosting birds o'erhead complete the orchestra.
It is the music arcane, a song of the forest's soul,
So old and yet so fresh; my heart's lost in a trance.


Am all alone by myself, perhaps the mirage of tranquility smiles,
As the twilight fades into a starry night; heaven a mirror of fireflies.
The silent night seduces me; an enchantress' temptations.
Far somewhere, on the edge of these treacherous illusions,
A pair of hazel eyes search for me anxiously and wait.


A sirens' song is all this scenery, I know,
Yet I shall be drawn to it again tomorrow.
Now, from this land of fantasy, I take a flight,
Go home, have supper and to kiss my daughter a good night.

Death

What it means to die ?

In the arms of your beloved,

Or forsaken, in an alien land?

Some moments of pain and/or joy,

The ever rolling wheel of time,

Is death the final end of it?

A bag of flesh and bones and blood,

Strung on the sinews of breath,

The house of cards, falls apart.

Some songs never uttered, never, never,

Though the soul has sung them so long.

A final note, or is death a new Aalaap?

You and me and he or she,

Friends or strangers; or reflections in the mirror?

All's an illusion; you'll know when it breaks.

Eons and ages and countless sunrises,

I've watched in joy, awe and wonder.

Yet the beauty of the night, only sunset reveals.

Pages after pages; chapters after chapters,

Patterns on sheets, in black and white.

Is death then the last full stop, in my story?

I don't know where I am going,

Only god knows where I've been.

But I know, I journey to my final goal......Like you.

A Wish....

Pale and somber, the last morning of November,
The first dew drop, on the fallen white orchid.
Simmering summer sun, or the blinding vine of thunder,
An enigma; kissed me with lips of mists and you hid.



Quietly, gently, silently, your footsteps of the lotus bloom,
Innocent smile of the baby leaf, and the eyes of skies azure.
Yet those lines of kohl, a border; an arcane forest's gloom,
Your aroma; with breeze it floats, my heartache's only cure.



A milky white swan in my heart's lake,
And a thousand raindrops drenching me; your laughter.
Rainbow hued fantasies; flights they take,
Ruby red wine lips; there taste lingers long after.



The melancholy tranquil, in shadow of the hill,
Echoing silence of fleeting moments passing by.
Though no blank space or chasm does it fill,
Still a haunting vortex of time rises high.



The pink rose buds smile and gaze,
I hold you, in an everlasting embrace
Daffodils swaying, set the valley ablaze,
I've touched the heavens; in your face.



A crystal blue rivulet, glides from the mountain,
As the soft, shimmering sheets of virgin ice melt.
And the young river is born, I don't know when,
The nymph of the valley, wears a silver belt.



The seasons have changed, spring is here,
Bees hum sonnets, o'er the sweet mango pollen.
I know you're gone forever, yet I look everywhere,
Beads of joy; from the life string have fallen.



Its all a game, the matter of luck and chance,
Just a sleight of hand; all's same in the end.
A last flickr of hope, lost in mirage's cruel glance,
Yet I wish, the winds of fate, in my favor I could bend !!

HAUNTED HOUSE

The eternal wanderer of the nights,

Walks in the skies, with his half-lit lamp.

Silently, the black sea watches with its watery eyes,

Atop the nearby dark, accursed hills.

A lonesome house stands; quiet or dead since long,
Colours of the walls faded forever; into nothingness.

Haunted, ruined remains of bricks and cement,
No doors, no windows; no owner, no tenant.

A hundred seasons, have gone by silently now,
And a hundred more shall; unnoticed, unwelcomed.

There was some story, as to why the house is so,
Yet even the winds have forgotten, those sad songs now.

I stand at my window and watch it,
Every day and night and wonder about it all.


And then I know, as I do everytime that,
I am the sea and the moon ; the haunted house ?


It is just my reflection in the mirror !!!

Hookah

The pipe of love, I pick in my hands,
Quietly I savour the dusky smoke of life,
From the hubble-bubble, made of my brittle dreams.

Embers of time, slowly burn;incense of my hearbeats rise
Suffused of the inebriating aroma; of ripe apples ?
In dreamlands, far away, my soul happily flies.

With each hearty puff, a tender intoxication mingles,
Into the crimson ale, coursing through my veins.
A cocktail of joys and sorrows brewed, ages.

Ashes,flakes of memories, silently collect on top,
So soft! I tenderly touch.Yet they singe the fingers!
I simply blow them away, into oblivion.

Air,Water and fire, all jumbled together in harmony!
Yet seems like cosmos arranged in a bizzare mix of paradox.
Silently I watch the bubbles go up and down...


Puff, puff, puff !!!