Saturday, May 4, 2013

The Story

Did you hear the story,
Lost travelers tell each other
To kill time in endless forests
While in search of a road
To take them home eventually?
I had told someone, was it you?
Or was I telling it to myself,
The day when you left
There was no road ahead,
Nor one to retreat
I lay on the crossroads,
Face up, arms stretched East West
Nailed with persistent penitence.

Patience looks hard in the beginning
Harder midway, but fruitful in the end
Likewise I turned into a compass
On the crossroads like a milestone
Telling it was a long road ahead
Longer even to retrace
Unending on the right, infinite
On the left, still,
I worked like a compass,
Showing North, Upwards
The shortest distance was escape!!

And then, the whirlwind came
Turning the compass into a weather vane
The tempests of Fate!!
Lost in the foggy forests
North, was everywhere…..
There was no escape!!

The story ends,

Thursday, March 21, 2013


Starting with a spark
Silently smoldering my sleep
Whose ashes I collect
In the crucible of my conscience
With a lancet I pierce my heart
for a few drops of crimson ink
whose pain fetches some tears too
And all these I pestle
Though in pain
To etch my imagination
On the sheaths of my soul

(I share this poem with my readers on the World Poetry Day!!! A poem about how a poem is born.)