Often we wonder…

about the misgivings and doubts

Often we look at the clouds and thunder

Looking aside the fireplace and bread

Little do we wonder

About what is there, unasked for…

And what could stay…

Despite the winds that go astray

NOISE



I hear the shuffling,

The slithering train,

Banter inaudible,
Pages turning,
as if to whisper
To make it known,
to me,
to all..

That oblivion isn’t the cure.

Oft have I tried to understand
That noise is the key,
To unlock some peace.

(Yet the fastener doesn’t open
The lock is of ingenious make,
It refuses to divulge,
The secrets it withholds…)

If noise can unlock
A little peace…

Wonder what too much
Silence could do.

-@ Shalini

YOU.

Look at you

Had you any inkling, of how original you were

How your curvy tresses, unkempt, were the cascades of Eden

And how you uttered words of supposed cacophony that launched ships

Did you know

That it did not matter how they looked at you

But it does matter how you see yourself

Look at you, rising from the wreckage, embracing storms…

Look at your threshold

At the Aurora you became, and the Sun in his chariot, seeking your aproval…

to ascend.

Just –

Look at you…

How could we know…

Little did we know,

That the green sea was limitless

Before we even set sail.

We were warned about the gales…

The more we were ‘told’

The less we saw;

The more we were ‘shown’

The less we could fathom.

The deep sea had more wonders

And less of dangers

But, before we set sail,

We grew weary of imaginary storms

That brewed in coward minds

And paralysed

The strongest of chimes

The Inchcape Rock, the bell for instance,

Was not defined………..

Your day…

So when your day arrives,

go floating by the Sun.

Cool it with your unfazed smile.

Tell him to sleep awhile.

For you’ve taken over the dawn,

And the warm Twilight

Is yours to claim…

****************************************

Tell the birds –

You can also sing along

And the beaches must know

That you are the one,

Why waves have danced all night…

Go tell the stars,

That they twinkle…

Because you have been all

Ablaze,

Along with the

Morning Sun.

You be you; I be ME

Take for instance,

your life…

beautiful as it is –

It cannot define

What my life “should” be like.

Take for instance,

your tree…

leafy as it is,

It cannot replace

The roses in my terrain.

Take for instance,

the rain in your tracks –

It cannot be similar,

to the hailstorm in my shacks.

So you be you;

And i be me.

Lest it all dissolves,

Into eternity.

Messiah…..

It is true that,

She is her own messiah….

That she has purged her own self,

Of plagues and despair

That threatend to take her breath away…..

 

It is true that,

She is her own divinity.

That she has uplifted her soul

When all belief and love

Was challenged and abused every day…..

 

It is true that

She is her own messiah,

And has taken the highest wave….

That most men were scared

To ride upon lest they should sway…..

 

It is true that

She is her own Sun,

Who has, with deliberate ease,

Hovered  through the darkest dungeon,

Dazzling it with a blinding ray…….

 

It is true that

She is her own reason,

To smile, love and be merry,

And has learnt it hard…..

That nothing can forever stay…..

 

 

Blaze

When did I say I needed the Sun

It was just a while, that the rays would thaw

Whatever was frozen inside….

Little did I know

That my own blaze

Was enough

To melt glaciers of hurt

And mounds of century old ice.

Sometimes there is no free left turn…

Sometimes there is no free left turn, and you’re supposed to wait…

Or pay the fine for skipping the light, you needn’t think the way is free…

You may think the turn is harmless, and it is so, till the ticket is issued…

And then,

you become a defaulter

for a day.

March…

nature-sunset-person-woman.jpg

It is March,

The month of her Spring,

When a soothing cold breeze…

Whiffs away the demons within.

 

It is March,

The season of her smile,

When every flower beckons at her with…

A promise divine.

 

It is March,

The return of her being,

When gushing daisies…..

Rustle and bespeak perforce,

Words of true love.

 

It is March,

The echo of her soul,

When valleys smile…

Enamoured by her will,

And demure persistence.

 

— Shalini.

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