The Muse

Image: K. Peter Schmidt under cc

To the nameless, unknown girl I always have written for…

With all the restlessness of an untold love, hidden away hopelessly in the confines of time. Yearning, waiting listless for that moment…or for several of those moments when my eyes aglow, would acknowledge the fulfilment of my love for you. Nameless, faceless, unaware of the turmoil I house each day and each night as I burn my dreams to see you more clearly in the light emanating from their lit tips. Tears well up so often that you are as yet in oblivion of my very existence…

There is that tiny glimmer of hope though. A little hope that perhaps you too await for me..or someone like me. That there is inside you that same restless, kindled heart that burns in me, each and every waking moment.

But until then, I will await your coming. I will seek the paths where few walk, for that is where I know I’ll find you. I’ll read the faces of people on nights when the moon is in its prime, for I know that your gaze will widen in delight upon a full moon’s light. I don’t mind this wait, this hopeless, listless wait, regardless of what the world or the people think of it.. Do not give up as yet, I am seeking you as strongly as I hope you are seeking me…

…

Dare..

 

 

Dare to dream beyond the moment at hand
To stand through, strong, and perhaps just stand.
There is none to hold, nor stand by your side,
Fight alone, if the gods must claim your hide.

Dare to go beyond the well-lit roads,
Beyond the paths that draw the hordes.
Lost perhaps, but on such walks alone,
You shall find your voice; true and own.

Dare to fight for the ones you hold dear,
For love can perhaps banish their fear.
But should you fail, and their fear takes over,
Pick your self up; and heal, perhaps slower.

Dare to fall; in love, at work – just to fall
And yet not wiping off your smile at all.
For tears only weaken the soul you housed,
And in one go, blazing spirits are doused.

Dare, if you must, to smile again,
Conceal every ounce of withheld pain.
He shall guard your heart, ever steadfast,
For His soul will live on, when he has passed.

…

There is perhaps nothing stronger than the human spirit. And yet, there seems to be nothing as fickle as the human mind. They are constantly at war, these two. And usually, we let the mind win. We let the world get the better of us, we let the rules dictate our conduct, we let our egos clash with our emotions, we let our love clash with our expectations, we let our dreams clash with reality.. To dare to let conduct, emotion, dreams and love move you.. And perhaps then, you have dared to live..

Stranger

 

 

If you could only see my day start in your thought,

You would spare a moment to do the same.

If only my staid eyes did once get caught,

You would ask to find out my first name.

 

If a moment’s passing tide should stir your mind,

You could fathom my moment’s pain.

If a breeze should graze your neck from behind,

You would bless all the wishes I’d lain.

 

If in random beat, you find a step coy,

You could sense my wonder watching.

If just the sound of your name brings joy,

You should see my heart oft leaping.

 

If only our worlds were not set earlier,

You would know me for who I am, truly.

If only this thought, were in life lovelier,

You would possibly love my love duly.

…

Frame

 

 

 

So many words to say, so many wounds to show,

So many words my heart had never let her know.

Unspoken in the air, is a guilt that now takes lead,

Warn my heart and yet, naive, it will not take my heed.

 

I watch her from where I stand, wondering what she feels,

If all of this is a dreamy frame hung on even keels,

The picture old calls for her who always stood by me,

And a dusty glass in the frame that will not let us be.

 

A heaviness in the chest will just not let it beat,

Mindless, this time too, the story should repeat.

So many words to say, so many wounds to show,

So many words my heart had never let her know.

…

Happened to see some very old wedding photos. What would it mean to lose someone who has been your everything for more than 30 – 40 years..? I’d imagine regret for not having said enough, not having showed enough affection, because honestly, nothing is ever just about enough.. She deserved more..

Little Power

 

 

Awake each morn on purpose

Resolve if you should but know it within-

This day is yours, this hour yours to keep;

Let into each moment a little joy, a little spirit,

Let little moments sweep off the ground beneath your feet,

Let little hopes embolden you when the soul is weak,

Let a little love in when someone calls to you,

Let a little love out when you gaze into a human soul.

 

Let little hugs of cool air set your heart free,

Let little kisses of moist rain caress your face,

Let little songs of joy lend your heart warmth,

Let little turns as the winding roads waltz with you.

 

For these little moments are yours to keep,

And hold for long beyond all else.

No peaks of tomorrow or conquests big,

Will ever find fit in your heart inside,

Little moments will those small gaps fill,

Little joys in life will show you meaning.

…

Grace

 

 

Hidden in the stream of her flowing hair,

Is a charm that unmistakably stays there,

Over the years, over her jobs and roles,

Over paths that have often hurt insoles.

She walks unfazed, with head held high,

Only a silent prayer; a wishful sigh.

 

Stronger each day, with her quiet will,

Little joys in life she tries to fill,

Doing most with what she has at hand,

Some scheduled, yet some unplanned.

She moves collected, with unmatched grace,

Faltering some; yet with a smiling face.

 

Now as the long day has drawn to an end,

She smiles with the breeze that heavens will send,

Mother, daughter, friend and wife,

She plays them all; our cradle of life.

And in her is a light that calls to the unseen,

For beauty unaware truly is beauty pristine.

 

…

Weak

 

 

Moments in time, when your hand I figured

Would hold mine someday, if fate hath favored,

Were today jolted from their reckless abandon,

And dreams now seem to be more in wanton.

 

As I saw the sight that much to my surprise

Did not only blind; from hurt, from despise,

But hurt was the heart, and jaded the spark,

For how does one see when the world turns dark?

 

I ask not for much, but your hand in mine,

But forgot the suitors that have raced me to the line,

This moment has simply passed me by, still

I stand bereft here, of strength, of will.

 

…

The Answer

 

 

 

Beyond all else, I hate the odd feel in my gut,

When your visage I recall, whilst stuck in a rut,

I hate that I cannot move on with life,

While the joy of us is, with agony, rife.

 

Could a bond so complex sum a love so clear

That every waking moment I would want you here

By my side; watching, going about your chores

Free, yet together with this unfathomable force.

 

For when I sit in silent hours, memories play a cruel game;

Trembling in the silent air, is the sweet sound of your name

Like a musical chord that broke the silence but once,

And awaits for long, your response – hours,weeks..months.

 

…

Reborn

 

 

To hazed illusions that blind the eye,

To false glories that have left me dry,

To pricked consciences that hide the hurt,

To shallow lies that have concealed effort,

To dreams dreamt with the woken mind,

To memories the heart won’t leave behind,

To the truth that beyond all else will stand,

To the misery that stays when the rest disband,

To the masked faces that fake true smiles,

To her voice that calls me across the miles,

To everything I am, and till date, was,

To everyone I loved; I bid byes, alas!

 

This day I die to take birth the next,

Character lures me in sinful pretext,

Molting the skin that has come to be me,

Perhaps tomorrow I shall yet be free.

 

…

SDMIMD

I wrote this poem 2 weeks back on our Director’s insistence. Too bored to send it out individually to the ones who asked for it, so posting it here. IMD’ites, do tell me what you think of it! (if you’re reading this anyway)

 

 

Sylvan trees here stand by the tread,

Standing by the hearth of her welcome bed,

Pristine is her manner, calm is her face,

Robed in grey, she stands in grace.

 

At her heart of power sit minds of vision,

Sagacious, strong, they work in unison,

Further still now, stands her talent table,

Open to all souls, willing and able.

 

Teeming yet quiet lies her wise mind,

Books of all ages, adorning bind,

Spines bear prints of fingers that ran over,

Desks let time pass by much slower.

 

The canteen bustle, the rattle of plates,

Unaware of the hand dealt out by our fates,

Seeking wisdom found in books borrowed,    ##(Borrowed lines from one of my prev poems!)

Over piping cuppas, and minds harrowed.

 

She stands by it all, ever unfazed,

In her grey gown, that greenery has laced,

She is my alma mater, my guiding light,

Now and forever more, I’ll be a IMD’ite!

 

…