Beauty

Beauty has no meaning

Except in the flower

That looked beautiful

The rose that smelt sweet

The ocean that looked calm

The hills that looked awful

Love had no meaning

Except when the mother held me

Closed to her bosom

And I loved the warmth

The coarse finger the strongest thing

For me and it could do

Everything, overreaching the outreached

It could dither to stretch

And to sketch the first

Image on my palm

As the coarse finger

Tickled my fancy

To say, tis beautiful.

It is beautiful

As it moved up and down

To cull and curl up my thoughts

In the smoky rings

To join the clouds

In the sky, it is beautiful

The air that raised the wind

To carry the clouds all around

In shapes and sizes

That looked awful and awesome

It is beautiful.

The word reminds me of

All the things that I used to call

Beautiful as they are.

Beautiful

Stars look beautiful

When a child looks at them

And when they look at him.

They are eternal source of joy

Emanating wondrous thoughts

They speak to the heart of a child

And they listen to the vibes

Of his heart when he raises

His arms to hold them

Stars create curiosity for him

And the curiosity

Makes an explorer in him.

They don’t govern his destiny

But they govern his mind

His heart

And set it at large

his spirit

give all it desires

Today,

Tomorrow

And in the all times to come

Stars look beautiful.

Once and always.

Fashion

Unfathomable

Beyond all trends

Its stand where

The argument ends

What does it mean?

What does Fashion means to be…?

Eyes?

Lips?

Hair?

Heels?

Legs?

Dainty footsteps

Or the sumptuous meals

Or the spoons

The forks and knives

The platter and bowls

The laughter and howls

What does it mean?

To be in with the fashion

To walk and talk

In a feigned imitation?

Does it mean the toes?

Does it mean the walk?

Does it mean the sulking or

Does it mean the talk?

Does it mean hulk or

Does it mean the salk?

What does it mean to be

When people make for run

Hair spread loose or

Nicely tied in a bun

The naughty question the knot

More knotty it becomes

What does it mean to be

Fashionable

When age spares no sun.

Time tickles breath by breath

Turning soft flesh into wrinkles

And strong bones to decay.

What does it mean to be fashionable

By the end of day.

I Paint My Toes Blue

Haunted by the question

To be or not to be, that

Tormented my spirit in two

both try to ride on each other

Torn my body falling apart

Should I go with things

I like not, I want not

Should I keep mum

And let the troubles

Go and Grow around me

To engulf me whole forever

The girl within me sighs

And cries and shrieks aloud

Deep in the nights to stir my soul

And the role I had to play

All the day in the male attire.

I want to live as I am

As the Mother Nature has made

Knowing not what to do

I paint my nails blue

How beautiful do they look

I love them.

Horses and Dreams

When they discovered the path was rough

The surface stony and the ride uphill

They dismounted their steeds

Unleashed their reigns

and left them in their stables

and on they went with their journey.

They were sons of their parents

Brothers of their sisters and the loved ones

Of their brides to be, whom they assigned

The task of weaving dreams into fabric

Of their lives. There they went

As they wanted to surf the winds

And ride the waves and taste the whiff

Of flash in the dark. Restive they were

And I saw them rising, high on the cliff

Up and down and upside down

They screamed aloud when they saw
the bolts of flashes, the silver rain

And golden rivers all brimful

Ever flowing. Disillusioned as they were

They lost in the sound of jewels in stones

Pearls in sand and rovers on the land

Hands they lost that picked the dust

Of shooting stars, and left with their only arms

Hence they were lost amid the sea of crowds

Headless they worked like bees in the hive

Till their body and soul were alive.

Hearts they lost, they lost their dreams

They lost their horses that lost their screams

They lost their loves they lost their grief

And left with the banknote all in a sheaf.

Ride your horses with your dreams and aspirations

They need be led to the end they desire.

Leave them not till you are able

Keep your horses under you and not in stable.

Under the Greenwood Tree

Under that greenwood tree

Where shadows grow thicker

Than the shades and the colours,

Cooler than the breeze of easterly winds

The seeds of musky flowers

Tend and groom themselves to grow

Through the weedy thicket of woody grove

And greet the birds and bees alike

Under that greenwood tree

Wind that rushed to me from you

Carrying the first whif of fragrance

To make me fall in love with you

Spellbound I fell into the trance of sleep

To see you come in my dreams in the rob

Of finest silk that slipped your ankle

To give me a glimpse of you tiny feet

Beautiful as it seemed with all the

Jewels that went to adorned the steps

You take on the stony street, the tapping

Of the heel that tapped my heart and

In the throbs I hear the name you bore

In my mind scribbled to last.

The shellac coloured hair that fall

In tresses and curls and waves and all

Strands of which always struggle

To disentangle from the weaves of silk

Vie with each other to protect the dignity

And modesty you carry as you walk

Ever young ever fresh as new stalk

The kiss of time on my hand

The sands of time hold you fast

Keep you alive in your footprints

That you left on the sand behind

The time and tide were all there

To wash you into oblivion.

Under the greenwood tree I nourished

Desires and dreams to see them flourished

I tied them all one by one to the leaves

And have them hung to see them grow

With the greenwood tree of life

All my dreams, all my desires

Remained there all clung to the dry twig

That had died long ago and waiting for

To fall this autumn, the tree outgrew

My dreams and desires and with the tree

There I was a cobweb shaped old man

With the strands of grey hair.

Under the greenwood tree, I will come

To sit for while and reflect on my past

To count the air and breathe my last.

Believe it or not

Believe it or not

Who told you,
When you were born
about the God?

You were born
brought into this world
as free spirit
to fight with fists
and move with your tiny footsteps
to feel the rough surface
under your soles.

Rudderless was your boat
which was ready to surf
along the waves
of ocean unbounded
to taste the winds of the thunder.

Who kidnapped you
and your mind
was made to believe
to look for a black cat
in a dark room
where it was not.

Your entire life was gone
in defending what is not there
first they made your boat to capsize
then they brought you up
to believe
every thing they wanted
the others to believe.

Believe it or not.