Lonely Sunday

I think I should revert back to masks,
And create a wall as high as the sky,
But the sky falls over me; suffocating!
And I am but a lost tiny sand granule,
I do not know if I should say I tried,
I do not know if I should talk anymore,
Or even write verses so vague, so –
To live in silence can be a blessing,
Or a poison that slows your death,
I – I am trying to win a fierce battle,
 Yet I am struggling to even eat,
Who knows! Maybe you will appear,
And guide me to a better Earth,
Without a lonely moon and sun,
Where I can fly like dead dragons,
Peace to those who still believe.
Sunday, 16thof June 2013

Your Portrait

Painting you,
On this day,
Brush to hold,
Stroking lines,
Mixing dyes,
And at last,
Loving you.
Chocolate eyes,
Hair so black,
Lips untouched,
Sound of giggles,
Teeth like snow,
Cheeks turn red,
Body so warm,
Clothes so light,
Pink and blue,
Portrait done,
Making a smile,
And saying this,
“I love you”.
Saturday, 15thof June 2013

Stranger than a Narrative

The storyteller made up a story,
Began with “Once upon a time”,
Foretold the death of the hero,
Whose life focussed on dreams,
Who might have been a trickster,
Time and money meant nothing,
But what is a story without hate,
High- and low-classes: different,
“Little did he know about his love”,
The campfire crackled even more,
This story had a twist like none other,
The kids were listening attentively,
Good versus evil still unclear,
Confused as to who the hero was,
Plague confiscating the lonesome,
Death came to all; wicked or not,
And so the tale ended with yawns,
Kids grew up knowing it was just a story,
Little did they know about wounds,
The storyteller, once, made up a story,
The story had a character so strong,
The character knew his death was near,
Maybe just like the person who is reading.
Wednesday, 12thof June 2013