Can I choose not to Pretend?

could i have the liberty

not to pretend

pretend to be happy and glowing

could i today just scream to the world

i feel the pain, my heart is pained

shall i just vomit them all out

all the tears i kept inside my eyes for many years

shall i just cleanse myself 

of all the misery, this fake world ever caused me

today, can i just forget all my etiquette

just be myself, crying it all out

would you tell me

O dear world

do i have your permission

not to pretend 

just for today?

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My love – My Seasons

you fill me with fragrance

with flowers glowing to your breeze

spreading the colors of imagination

yeah, you are my Spring my love

I sweat waiting for you for hours

without worrying about the heat

uncle sun shows his magic

making you my Summer, my love

I shed my tears for you

like leaves shed by the trees

I crave to be held by you

you are my Autumn my love

I am so cold many a times

being left alone by you

trying to consume some warmth by the fireplace

you have shown me the Winters my love

you greet me, complete me

you make me crazy with the way you treat me

I live with you, I die with you

you are the way my life takes me to

you truly are the seasons of my life

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To be Born Again

brighter than the fire

I burn today myself

glowing flames

spreading brightness around

demolishing my sins

that little demon in me

demon that reflects my dark side

it gets angry, it looses control

shows no affection, it doesn’t console

as I give in my soul to the burning flames

my soul is cleansed, becomes pure

I am introduced to my superior self

I become gentle, I follow kindness

I smile as I spread divinity around

there comes a stage in all our lives 

when we find ourselves filled with dark

must we embrace a little fire then

must we give in to burn our sins

to be born again

like a child inside

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for a Little Happiness

I chose silence over scream

gathered all pain in my heart

surprised I was to see its potential

how much more could it absorb

I was scared, yes I was

soon the day shall arrive

this heart of mine shall explode 

releasing uncountable tears

poor pretty heart

sure belongs to a brand rare and rich

consuming stabs of fate

is still working fine

still beating in hope

for a little happiness

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#pain #poetry #happiness

The Signal Man

the long dark tunnel

seemed ghostly, merciless

the ceiling inside, dripping water so cold

one could hear the squeaking bats

even from a distance

foul odour of the rodents

conspiring in the darkness

added shamelessly to the deadliness 

just the thought of going inside

could give one shivers

In the middle of that tunnel

with a small dim light

sat someone

waiting eagerly for trains to pass

his eyes never left the sight of the clock 

every minute of each hour to be noted

his notepad forever ready with a pen

filling in the time of each passing train

accepting the intrusion, giving a green light

he who sure wasn’t scared of the ghostly

right in the middle of the deadly dark tunnel

The Signal Man

at work

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At the same spot – Aimlessly

loaded with lush green leaves 

once, it stood with pride

its broadness offering cool shade

as the sun shone too bright

its many branches, holding pretty homes 

where birds would take their blissful naps

giving birth to their tiny ones

those leaves breathing in, the sun

birthing fresh air for many to survive

how meaningful was once its existence…

Today, its face a little too sad, rather shameful

now naked, robbed of its pretty leaves

its shade has gone, those nests are now dead

no birds sing music, sitting on its branches

just the sight of it, bringing shivers to my mind…

I am the culprit, I killed that tree

my greed has grown without a stop

my list of luxuries have destroyed its life

contaminated the earth, poisoned the soil

the noble tree, battled bravely to live

to keep giving, to save its pride

my filth in the end had won the war

&

the lifeless Tree, now standing

at the same spot Aimlessly

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oh Dreams & the other State of Us

ambiguous lives, lived by the living

in twin states of being awake or dreaming

overwhelming yet secretive

intrigues us souls to discover the relevance

the genuineness or the forgery

of both the worlds we spend our breaths in

are we real with these eyelids shut

or the color with our eyes open, is faithful

a mystery to remain so, never to be revealed

oh dreams and the other state of us

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Perfection revealing Imperfection

she smiled

to hide her agony

her eyes betrayed her

tears emerged

in her deep dark eyes

telling the story loud

like always

they never fail

to announce her pain

Oh, she is fed up

being played by her own eyes

how they have achieved perfection 

declaring HER to be imperfect

to be able to pretend

even a smile

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My Mind – An Open Jail

napping inside the womb of my skull

many sisters taking a little time to flourish

my heart hums their beautiful names

imagination, fascination, creativity

curiosity, passion, enchantment

sometimes they could get a little out of control

they are like prisoners controlled by a Jailer

that Jailer happens to be my Brain

forcing me to learn of the consequences

teaching me patience, asking me to be sober

but this crazy heart of mine, it wants to fly

my thoughts seem caged, wanting to soar high

getting out of control, sometimes a little shy

how I truly wonder sometimes

isn’t my mind An Open Jail

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Smiles so Natural

in an old age home, stayed Maria

a woman abandoned of life

her children had dumped her there

her tears took a long while to dry

she sat alone at times in her small room

with a picture she held tight against her chest

it was a picture of her grand son Sammy

she would look at it, with her eyes not blinking

the picture was pure and an exceptional one

it was special and beautiful in its own way

for in the picture, she held tiny Sammy in her arms

both kissing each other, giving a smile

a smile so natural in all possible ways

for both of them looked eternally adorable

both looked like a child, both looked a little old

for none of them possessed those pearls 

pearls that we call teeth

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The Purple Rose

then

came the dawn

dreaming bud

took a lazy yawn

stretched its arms

it felt the dew

it was its moment

to bloom

soft rays of the sun

served a little glow

petals all

announced to unfold

one after the other

they all glorified

revealing divinity

of a purple rose

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