Broadway called life

The play was real without any rehearsal,
some enjoyed their tragedies,
while others remained poker faced even in the joys.

Ones who thought they were hero,
broke down after realizing their role,
ones who thought they would own the stage,
had to make peace with a guest appearance.

No one actually knew when the backstage will recall them,
dialogues were going to be important,
but silence too had a role to play.

Some got variety of roles as long as they remained clay,
while the stubborn were played by the play.

All tried to bribe the script writer for an immortal fame,
but he kept changing the actors and stage remained the same

Poetry of touch

I will drive my poetry through your curves,
a bit above your skin,
a bit beneath your nerves

the way you bend,
the way you tilt,
covering you from end to end,
letting go all the guilt.

words will feel
as i feel you
i touch you
in places and ways
no one ever has,
through my words, spaces and commas
leaving my ink,
stealing your aromas

Couldn’t make out

Her eyes were closed, 
or bowed in grace

Her lips were sealed,
or playfully sleeping with each other,

Her curls were waving out to me,
or winds were building their home

Her expression was blooming with grace,
Or face was holding back the storm

Maybe she was everything pink and red could feed
or a different story you could never get to read

Milti nahi

milti nahi….
khwabo ki woh kadi,
jo le chale hume,
us sire tak,
jaha,
sach hoti zindagi,
jhoothi naa lage,
khushi mere haathon ko achhuti naa lage,

milti nahi,
palon ki woh ladi,
jo haseen waqt ki,

dhadkano ko
saans deti rahe,

bheetar samaye andhero ko
asmaan se churakar,
zara si chaandi,
raat deti rahe…

Darkness feels home

Feels like day has ended with the sunset of overthinking, 
fear of dark heals what daylights were bringing.

Silence hides here often,
bias of colour disappears.
Wounds come out of hiding,
with no eyes chasing to pierce.

Scars ache less as mirrors lose the game,
pages written or blank read the same.
Noises make you think,
reality and dream become inseparable by a blink.

When succumbing to a corner becomes a choice over being on the roam,
that is the moment darkness feels home..