One More Time.

In this maddening crowd chained with too many shackles,

her rebel spirit crumbles a little.

How long!

How long would it be before

dusk would give way to dawn!

Tired of the melodramatic pangs and the speedbreakers

that intersperse every alley

She wonders if she will ever sail on waters

that would take her home

It’s been a while since the times

the winds rushed through the unkempt hair

Oh you gypsy soul!

Why do you seek the home you grew

when the spirit is meant to be set free!

From dust we come to dust we go,

yet the heart craves to hold 

The rugged remains of yesterday

because what are we but stories!

Nostalgia plays foul one more time 

It is the rebel’s strongest muse 

When the ticking clock scowls at the gypsy soul 

Reminding that even the stars are going to sleep 

Nostalgia whips up another tale 

A fresh muse and a new prose 

But those heavy eyelids refuse to drop

Shedding tears of remembrances 

Societal norms, flawed logic 

When shall you grow up big messy world 

The gypsy soul of the little rebel 

Seeks the home amidst the shackled confines 

One more time, 
One more time.

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Rebel

Sometimes in the silence,
If you listen close enough 
You can hear the cacophony of sound 
That somehow doesn’t feel chaotic 
Maybe in the darkness, the pangs
Of the vicious loneliness 
Feeds on whatever it finds 
To satiate the unquenchable thirst

Sometimes the sound of the clock 
Doesn’t tells the time 
It rather speaks of the time left 
Before the crack of dawn shall droop the eyelids 
Because, even today 
Hidden amidst the forced obedience 
Sits smug the rebel who ruled 
Her childhood.

Nostalgic Times

Thy inner child,
May it never die
Peep a little from
The drapes that engulf melancholy
The pristine color of the soul 
Blends with the echo of peace
The falling drops on the window sill
Etches a memory locked within
Of paper boats and toothless laugh
Of carefree grins and those free falls
Thou are still a little child
For the hands that fed
And helped you grow
Every time the Lord paints the window
With colors so few but memories anew
One more time, I take a tumble
To the lanes, I left the pieces
Of the puzzle that makes me whole
Incomplete but full in my form
Methinks my inner child
Has refused to grow.
From paper boats to imperfect verse
From toothless laugh to reflecting memories
From carefree grins to subtle smiles
From free falls to stealing a tumble
I grew up and left the lanes
But this inner child of mine
Still takes me back to the times
And I smile and cry
At the beautiful irony of life

 

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You Beauty!

The massiveness of nature 
The minuscule existence of humanity
The blend so artistic 
A balance so intrinsic 
As I stand and ponder 
The only thing that resonates is
Who we truly are
Amidst a force so gargantuan
This canvass of nature
Still feels surreal
Did I really behold this
Or imagination took me for a ride
Incredibly amazed
At the colorful trance of white

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Yesterday.

Yesterday. 
More than a word, it speaks volumes 
Of the zillion memories made on 
Nights short and long 
It takes you back to the time 
When you slept caressing
The pillow you called your own.

Yesterday. 
More than a word, it speaks volumes 
Of the carefree times when you didn’t bother 
Thinking of the what ifs, why’s and how’s 
It makes you nostalgic of the times 
When you were still figuring 
How to figure the meandering 
Lanes of life.

Yesterday. 
More than a word, it speaks volumes 
Of how life smiled even when it was pouring 
Of how you wore it all because 
Nothing looked gloomy, not even the murkiest nights.

Yesterday. 
More than a word, it speaks volumes 
Of those tiny starts 
The leap of faith 
The endless promises 
The little moments 
The eternal memories 
The eyes with a hundred emotions 
The lessons you never knew you would have to ace 
The people you never knew you would have to leave 
The places you never thought would become surreal 
The moments you never knew would become rare 
The words you never thought that would get stuck 
The passion you could never imagine would fade 
The poetry you never thought would once turn to prose.

Yesterday.

You Know.

You know how they say 
The night is for the quiet 
The stars speak of solitude 
The sky is the canvass 
Of thoughts that traverse the mind

You know how they say 
Fingers entwined never part 
Hearts conjoined always last 
Little smiles are meant to stay 
Dreamy eyes tell a tale

You know how they say 
A hundred words fall short 
When the mind is a Happy mess 
Everything is perfect yet
Everything was left when you went 
Locking the little doors where you grew 
Oh how I wish I could fly 
To the land where I learned to smile 
Amidst the arms that first held me 
Because two worlds, one soul 
Oh foul treacherous destiny 
You know how they say 
One heart, two halves
One character, two tales 
One story, two lives 
One person, a million miles

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Messy Maze

The tangled maze of the tree
sometimes symbolize the mess inside
Aren’t we all a little twisted?
Aren’t we all looking to untie the #knots that complicate
Too soon too fast
Life rides at pace so Brisk
You wish you could pause and rewind
memories that have now become a lullaby

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