Switch Off the Churner

Like the compass needle

always points north

So do our thoughts

take always the same path

Even when hands

are busy doing a task

The wayward mind is

constantly turning back

The Steps Go Up

I aimed for the top

I worked non-stop

Accolades came my way

But the goal seemed far away

Donning Roles No More

All that glittered

All that was fragrant

All that was soft 

All that was pleasant

All that was sweet to the tongue

The Seventh Sense

They stood still
And yet, they grew
Not hurried
Not hassled
No control
On what happened

The Canvas

It was just plain canvas

White and pristine

A brush in hand

I stood thinking

The Reality of the Burden

On my head

I carried the weight

of guilt and regrets

In my heart

I carried the rock

of pain and hurt

The Extras

What is the plot?
Who are the actors?
What is the scene?
What is our character?

Why All This Haste?

"When will it be 9 months!"
The family exclaimed.
Eager for the baby,
They counted the days.

Words on Words

The first one
Was a blessing
Much longed for
And very thrilling 

The second and third
Eagerly awaited
Slowly they tumbled
Giving joy unabated

The trickle gains force
Words come together
Into paras and sentences
With no stops or brakes

Every event described
Every emotion examined
Stretching every thought
Keep busy the little mind 

And then like an avalanche
There is no stopping the word blast
A trap that feeds on itself
Exploring future, present and past

From a pleasing rain
It becomes a deluge
But wonder of wonders
Everyone takes in them refuge!

Being pelted always
Words from without and within!
Fill the world with noise
Till one just stops hearing

Silence scares some
Even when alone 
So they plug their ears
And hear a constant drone

Music, yes pleasing
Elevating, ennobling
But try silence to dive deeper
And experience a power liberating

Find your own song
Hum as you walk along
Only for your ears, it is
Cutting you off from the throngs

A smile then always lingers
Turning the lips up
The mind that always complained
Learns to shut up.

 

In This Short Time

How we clamour
For space, for name

In the short span

Of life, this game!

Layers to Pare

Alone,
Beyond compare;

Single,

No one to care.

Contented?

Then why this fair?

Conflicted,

Angry, envious, scared.

Why

Any reason, you aware?

Amusing,

A laugh you don't share?

Losing,

What was there;

Seeking,

What was theirs.

Centering

A simple fare;

Difficult,

Only a few dare.

Dream,

It's like a nightmare;

Variety,

Meant only to ensnare.

Pain,

No one you spare;

Whittling,

Many layers to pare.

Awakening

Walk into the glare.

Liberation,

Shred it all bare.

 

One

A ripple in the external world
Echoes, sending a wave
Words clamour to be heard
Making us flap insane.

When It is Time

First, she closed the city doors.
"Neither you come nor I go."
She said that to her friends and relatives
But death couldn't care less.

The Boiling Pot

Who lit the fire?
Why does the water
Boil forever?

Bubbling, effervescent
Never pausing
Or quiet.

A drop falls in
And it too
Ends up dancing.

Merge, Emerge

It was a tsunami
the talk of the town
of the country
of the globe around!

The waves that rise
rose and rose
to fall and drag
all that that was close.

When I saw the sea
there was no trace
of the dreaded
destructive giant wave.

I soaked my feet
in the seawater
and looked at the particles
did they matter?

Some of these were 
part of that wave,
but back in the water,
they looked the same!

Having merged
they were indistinct.
Did they even exist?
It made me think.

Vapourised, condensed
where were they?
Would they arise
like a tsunami again?

Would we know
if they are the same?
Or will they be
new to the game?

We too rise and 

fall back in time.

Even Hitler is gone

without a sign.

Lost in a sea

leaving no trace

merging in a mass

emerging never again.

In this short time

that we are given

what should we live for?

is it name and fame?

A little of this

a little of that

but find in our lives

some dignity and grace.

The Queen Bee and Other Limericks

There once was a lady

Who thought she was the Queen Bee

She gathered friends around her

Collecting their secrets like nectar

So that they surrendered to her will only

An Unhurried Life

I sow a seed
Trim a branch
Prune some leaves
I care dearly for my plants

To Be Still

Waves after waves
of one thought or another
animated and excited
strike me in succession.

The Blurring Days

Days merge into night
Dawning again in silence
Seasons come and go
Into each other they flow

Waiting for a Change

To wake up every morning
And to be the same
A routine that is comforting
And yet unsurprisingly inane!