Her story

I saw my poetry sink in bathtub, she was rehearsing for her coffin it seems,
swinging between nightmares and dreams,
she wanted to give up her reality.

Draped in white,
tired of chasing colors
where being with blue meant being on the wrong side of yellow.

Expressionless,
tired of breeding salt in eyes
where people come to enjoy the shores but never embrace the waves




Choked

Tongue runs cold
words freeze on its tip,
neither melting their way back to heart,
nor diving off the lip,
voice rises retreats like an impatient wave beneath the throat.

There is another world around the clavicle,
a volcano desperate to erupt,
throw up all the lava,
crushing the icebergs,
before diving of the lips,
dragging a scream along.

And the moment passes…

All the lava drowns in my veins,
burning the heart,
smoking the lungs.
My eyes go blank after the calamity inside,
and just then someone asks
“what happened?”
i say, “nothing, just choked..”

Zindagi

Zindagi mushkil hai, 
tum asaan hoke dekho.

Zindagi jasbaat-e-dil hai,
tum khayaal banke dekho.

Zindagi kadmo ke nishaan chhodne ki justju hai,
tum udaan bharke dekho.

Zindagi ek sire se shuru aur doosre par khatm hai,
tum unke darmiyan ek yaadgar musafir banke dekho

Broken

held it together for long,
navigating through life with compass of right and wrong,

this time i let it go,
it fell apart,
i saw pieces scatter,
escaping from each other,
as if staying together never mattered,

i was empty and they breathed free,
being broken had its own beauty.

I have words to say..

I have words to say,
donno if they would stay true,
to all the thoughts and feelings that brew,
somewhere in mind somewhere in heart,
many things dwelling on the brink waiting for a start,

I have words to say,
donno if they would mean a thing,
donno if a tear would move or smile would spring,
from anyone who means something,
their answers elude me while i am mustering courage.


I have words to say
to no one and about nothing,
donno if the shout outs to the sky would help the release,
of an emotion which lost its way,
hope my silence will find home from the voice going stray.


I have words to say...

Bored waters

Waters are never still
seldom raising a tide

tired of this blend of flesh and bone,
floating just above the surface,

on days i feel
like picking a handful of ripples
and setting them free in the sky raising if not a storm then a tide high

at least i will drown if not caught riding the waves.