The day dreamer’s blank page
Is filled with the scribbles.
Not understandable but intellectual it seems;
Sleeping on the carpet,
Smelling the dust and room freshener,
Waking up to the hustle bustle, he grins.
Counting the two over head tube lights
Through the perforated frame in the ceiling;
Or listening to the shush of the Air conditioning vent,
Reading numerous times those sign boards for Exit;
Thinking of leaving every moment, but never, in time, he went.
Papers of importance pinned to the desk
Have never been read so far,
While leaving for a last time,
He glanced through it for hours.
Remembered the ergonomics,
Exercised for 2 minutes,
Had tour of the floor,
And felt it’s time to go;
And with the last letter on his table,
Another common man left us quietly so.
Then comes a smile on my face That makes me feel that I am nobody else. So singled into the corner of my heart I am so myself to you, That smile I must remember to the end Among the moments – best few.
Those hands, old and sinful,
As they touched the sand, And built a Taj Mahal, That made them memorable, For each flower they nourished, There spread some light, to sky, And for each sweat drop they hide, Created one ocean, Even bigger than their pride, Of those characters, they never knew, And their fate had already written, Already been haunted by those sinful hands, Was more than just a joy for them to act, Was just to make, Those unbearable silent songs pleasant.
Those kings were no different, Not worthy for a praise, In those storms of sand and still, Those shining swords they raise, Lost a battle and lost their countrymen, As they screamed “off with his head”, Still they won, With their swords still raised, As all those old paintings, Reminded her of the necklace, The bliss that out matches all her wealth, Every time she gets a glance, And that old lady still dresses As a princess for her king, Every time she gets a chance. For all those humans who were dead, With deformed humanity, And of blood, not so red, For everything, Those were lost on their way, This merciless time, shall linger one bright day.
It’s when I can understand what you feel And I don’t react Because I don’t know how to, I can’t connect them with my thoughts. I am confused Like a school boy in the candy shop. I am forgetful Like the old man who had a hundred replicas of his key. Life seems to be a labyrinthine maze. A transparent fear, in the darkness, I chase.
…so candid; my life had been YES or NO. A lot many things happening in life For the first time, Or have a last time show. So perplexed the logics That seeds my mind, The graph, the trend or the decision tree, All are disconnected, all are loop free. The bell and the bouquet, The flowers and diamond, The persons to wish and the relatives to embrace, I am imprecated, But I pretend To match your grace.
You leave and live, I am here. If I am true to myself, I am puzzled. And Yes, I have some fear. But believe me, wherever you will be: far or near, You’ll always be so dear To my smiles and to my tear.
The thoughts are now So much in synch, When you come across this poem, You will say “Wish you the same”; I know.
- Tired of Me? (flashinthedays.com)
- Drone Bee (coceyea.wordpress.com)
- Clarification about imprecations, love, hate, etc. (christusnostrumvita.wordpress.com)
When I go that no-rebirth way I wish I lived each moment of life As it won’t ever come again they say in non-individual existence of my inner soul in the liberty from sufferings in freedom from stench of distressful karma in eradication of dissatisfaction, impermanence, soullessness.
I dream and I live Nirvana the perfect peace of the state of mind that is free from craving, anger and aversion I live at peace with the world, having compassion for all, giving up obsessions and fixations. The existing volitions get pacified When the metamorphosis starts Of insight, deeds, vision, righteousness, virtue and mindfulness.
I search everywhere An ideal blend of rest, harmony, stability and joy. I believe I get in purity of someones eyes in touch of someones care in intimacy of someones scolding in simplicity of someones nothingness I believe I search Nirvana The ineffable ultimate state of attainment.
In a sense of “Great Self”, “Great Bliss”, and “Great Purity”, I often feel With the emancipation from ignorance and the extinction of all attachment, I live it just.
How it comes to my mind,
And I tell that
It’s just something of my kind.
As we met and just fell in love;
Do not know how.
If they ask how it happened,
Need not worry;
That we had a story.
Open up your heart
And feel the breeze
Around, it’s the one
In which we
Used to walk hand in hand
Sometimes you, sometimes me,
The story was the same,
The writer was different though;
To your memories,
Only that story I owe.
In this way the story proceeds
From mind, each others’ memories we remove.
Now we were strangers, so.
And when we met the next time,
We again fell in love.
Let’s that story make them think,
Can something go?
Or in our story
Something we miss…
To tell others…
Keep it in your memory;
We have to pretend
That we had a story.