Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

It’s often, quite often, now I pause among the unending roads;
Someone told it would end someday, without any whisper.
From the steps across the green acre, she would descend,
She would run again to me, or wait under an umbrella shade
At the same crossroad, where we could not then bid farewell.

Like a mad, old man, I fought against every wind that crossed,
And tossed my hair, among nights without stars or the moon.
I often looked at the window, even when hands were engrossed
with paints, brushes and bruises over the linen woven long back.
Who says death is an end, who says marriage is being together?

I often see the boy from my innocent days, counting the stars,
Hoping the moon will stay forever and then again looks alone
Into my eyes and say, ‘I see the moon in your eyes’ and harps
To convince am him, to repeat that it all was written by none,
But time wished this soul to find that memories are not wars.

Let time be born again, let darkness lead itself to light again,
Let every stroke when I paint declare, love alone will gain;
For it gives all that it has, for it leaves all that it holds so dear,
I wish when we meet again, I see you smile and me in tear.


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How in a moment, everything ends, everything in a breath?
Everything we made, we hoped, we promised in these years,
And then all leaves in a spur to that mired and muzzled woods.
Am like that ancient moment, now sitting and looking at faith,
The one that lives inside me and says ‘now no more tears.’

This stone is so cold now, like a spring dumped by winter,
This air is so honest to tell, time has come, yes it has come.
No urge, no fear, but like a monk will walk into that darkness,
And let faith hold my finger again and lead so swiftly hereafter,
With the small little light, that still I am, I will someday be home.

That gratitude, our ancestry taught through the realms they lived,
I now pass it over to you, for many more will come even after.
Someday, when you are alone again, you will only find me so near.
I will go now with my paints and nothing more, to colour that sky,
Dip my fingers again, into that smiling stream, and bid goodbye.

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I felt the feather so close today, as in a whisper will tell
the road from here, the land beyond this sky and to sail
in the frozen air where no heart can breathe more love,
but in this silence, in the darkness find my stars to move.
Among the frozen worlds we know, we seek each other,
More than the slipping words and humming lips bother
To sing again that song, count again the stars and dream
The white and cold flowers and the old veins like a stream.

They will always tell am weird, I tell they are all the wood,
No life they see in these echoes of the green or in the blue.
What profit has all wealth ever done, what more they could,
Than filling the hunger lost in darkness and salmons for true.
I saw the dust fly and settle on every moment as love bloom
Like an untouched tulip field greet the air again to greet you.
This man will come again to that shore where you will reach
And take you over the waves, till tides turn and kisses you.

I will bleed like that ink again for our poem to come true,
Over leafless boughs to see again those leaves in cold dew.

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I just paused to see if the wind still blows
And the winter night has the same stars;
What prophecy, what passion now bows
To those monuments of a mystic moon?
Who says life ends in a breath or at noon?
No wealth ever made happiness or sorrows,
No leaves died among the snow or the spring.
Wake up, we belong to that fire from Mars,
The light that fate sinks in and softly flows.

What muses appear in hope as much I love you,
The heart decided, a soul numbered for peace?
Why count, when we can hold it all, every time
There is fear, there is a desolate light all around?
Will we, or should we, what questions we ask,
What prophecy, what passion now more bows?
These clouds will flow, that promise remains,
The one that eternity kissed, and time played.

Someday, when we meet again, we will also see;
All that we lived, all that we died for, all shall flee.

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The thought now rises, as if will touch the darkest corners,
The undressed truths of life and the bequeathed intellect.
What surpasses time while hope gallops and my soul refers;
The leaves fall, those leaves will rise again into a green sect.
I don’t make meaning, for it is mean to be finding the sense
In everything that we come across and things that we dream.
Let time be not an unending witness to our fiddled patience,
Someday when we float, shall talk in love about that stream.
What ice melted, and what streams they made into the sea;
Let souls judge alone, and eternity be in love, and times see.

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I knocked, yes, I knocked every door that my spirit could,
With every dawn, tired eyes, tossed spirit I did again mold
The road taken, the spirit behind every face and now hold
A distant dream, the fingers gone by time, but not so cold.
As I now read behind these doors the stories of your soul,
And see the moon on your face that light my dream so old.
What if I am gone, what if those sunflowers again paint all,
In love with that colours and dream again that white gold.

It is dawn they say, and the known lips blow the love’s light,
The birds chirp, the satin comforts no more, nor that sight.
We have left those promised moments with reasons so real,
That our love seems a dream, and our heart beats will feel
The sound of a flute we played together, I promise again,
I will die every time, and be born in every summer and rain.
I will not ask the question, but see you unfold the times,
And touch the lips with my fingers painted and that rhymes,
The search among the crowd, the soul among those dead,
And take me if you can, to that book that love has read.

A mad man is a perfect lover as the world we saw is gone.
I will sing this song with love till you come, and can listen.
The best moments we will relive again, and I will be quiet
With your steps and madly look for your eyes, not that sight.

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Who applauds, who looks now into those orders
Of life and of a reasoning mind or those cold eyes
That have sparkles surfing as among the feathers,
Some wet, some comforted by the unknown cries.
A dazzle or a drop, how do they matter anymore?
I know that all shall leave, to open their soul’s door.
Yet when we all meet again beyond these clouds,
The stars, and the music that we always belong to,
All shall stand with arms open, again to love more.

What colours will these volleys of life paint now?
Where all, that made our moments, go and how?
We are here to return, when time needs our role.
If not it, what sense we made to this world so far?
When we look behind, we will see again the same,
The known sands play, same playmates and float
The paper boats with flowers kissed by our moon,
To plop our fear in the puddle and soak in that rain.
Our heart talking to each other as if in a symphony,
And our fingers finding the warmth we most missed.

Come soon O’ the dreamer of a distant land. Come!
We are the light, we are the paradise, we are home!

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