Posts Tagged ‘solitude’

Among the thistle under a purple sky and a cotton-like cloud
After an untimed rain, the petrichor, the path leads in quiet;
The crowd moves on, the wind beneath stares, screams aloud,
The reasons of our ruin, the darkness before the soul’s light.

Who waits in this rush, who whispers peace for lives bound
By reason of gathering all things that do not stay even right?
Dream is for the desolate air; a solitary soul walks the ground,
Only to breathe freedom now from this fear of fusion and fight.

That mirror is blurred, that chord is strangled among our pleas,
He who stands untouched by time is our soul and not the trees.


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As I move from this moment to another,
From the past into coming times,
I thank all gentlemen & women
For making this journey a great memory.
In this citadel of shining intellect,
When I look back there is a lot learnt,
There is a joy of having made friends,
There is a hope for a great tomorrow.

This life and the world is short and sweet,
Filled with moments from yesteryears.
When we meet someday somewhere,
There will be a smile together and talk
For hours for we cover this journey.
We will remain now friends forever.
Let our dreams come true and stars
Match our desire and bring joy for all.

Good Bye! Good Luck! Good Times!

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Sometimes it’s so hard to face life,
So perturbed when seeing death;
A friend whom I lost and promised
A smile so sweet and spring of health.

From the dark corridor where he lied
So innocent and induced with fear,
 I took him out and on the river side
He smiled and took my promise so dear;
To come back and gift him a toyed cheer
And play again on the sands of time.

Our imprints will not stay here,
For this land forgets and forgives
All toil done under the ageing sun.
The boy seven years old then had tear
When asked about life and our lives
So different, undreamt and smear.

I will not see you again nor walk
With you in the summer evening.
But I will remember you ever smile.
I will learn how to live not in desire
But in your dreams and your words.
Someday when I leave, you must wait
For me to join and have the play again.

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Now that we talk and teach
Each other to remain in peace,
Each one filling the other’s dream;
There is a heart that listens
To the beats of this night stream.

Now not like a priest or a pope,
We can dare to cleanse this soul
As the virtue of our kind is to sail
Through odds of the fate we carve.
We will together dream again
Of the utopia that never exists.

When we meet, will surely greet
With baffled and bleeding hearts
That suffered in these dark years.
We will stare each other for long,
And then may pretend to treat.
But our eyes will gleam with tears.

Neither we nor our fate knows
Where will we settle after now?
But wherever there will be thirst
There will be a dream to quench.

Why after some dream we weep?
We succumb and yearn for the end?
Why breathe in this deserted drape?
And remain speechless while we bend?

Like Life, death too is a journey.

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I will make way for you; I will arise and go,
Among countryside men and women;
I hear the symphony so silent, so pure.
What have I lost, and gained in this war?
I stand now with corpses here and there,
Scattered like vermillion on the floor.
I see the musician playing flute so soft,
And surreal strokes under the dead moon,
I see an old cavern with light from heaven.

I searched for gothic gods in this desert,
A woman and byzantine gold so embraced;
There is no oasis in these dreams but hurt
My heart with pain and long love laced.

A Sun as bright as if no need for a second,
A road so long as will turn a river full of tears.
I listened to the furls of the girdle so wild.
In winter this desert will be cold at night,
With no creatures but the serpent’s hiss.
I am unfolding this journey now or never,
To see what tomorrow unfolds in light.

After countless steps this journey doesn’t end,
But just changes its meaning now to mend
The woes of the soul, these occurrences so wild.
Let me stand for a while and pray my stars,
My God that has not lost hope in my tears,
And my chiselled fate from here to guide.
This odyssey will remain now on stones,
To guide all souls that has covered miles
Of agony, anguish and admired smiles.

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This poem is written to end the first collection of my works. It talks about the final stages of Oedipus’s life where he sees light amidst darkness and realizes nothing escapes from fate. All that is destined is nothing but the course of life and with their occurrences the journey is said to be completed. One who tries to stop it will not succeed but end at seeing the culmination of the oracle each soul is entitled for.

This small but eternal journey of mine,
Makes me feel nothing changes the twine.
I have cured plague and have moved,
I who have seen storms and sailed,
And unknown of the blood that I shine.
Let no unknown folk talk about me,
For known is the lives that lived here.
Let all stars be there to guide me,
When am gray, old and sublime.

The tale of the self is an illusion,
As each moment we lived is gone.
Those moments shall not return,
Nor shall I redo all that is undone.

The demon is in holding the meaning,
With intellect so uncured and untrue.

I still sit on this wide crossroad
Where three known roads meet.
Every soul will sit here awhile,
Then journey through tears or smile.
Great warriors have surrendered
To the fate they worshipped;
For me there is no glory ushered
In these false applauds of the world.
The answer to the sphinx is man
As the reason to the riddle is to live.
I killed both to surge into a great war.
There is no Corinth, no Thebes
But the giant solitude everywhere.
My deeds will not be pardoned,
But will stand through for measure.
In this temple of dark eloquence
Let history only follow the Light.

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There are enough trumpets to blow
In this forlorn land of muses;
Enough lyrics stand idle to be sought
And ancient rhythms of melody flow.
There is no crowd of solitude here
And no wandering eyes moaning.
There is no dream here to come
And no thought to end with tear.

Emptied hearts and burdened souls
Now fill the curtains and not rise
From the trivial tests of fate.
I have seen a fiddler in the meadow
Now having stood for long to play
And journey with my eternal song.
And a pianist with shivering fingers
Beside the lake filled with Mozart,
Stands unheard among country tulips.

These are all but tinges of the last hope
That glimmers through autumn winds
And journeys through unpaved paths.
Let time heal all to make this great song.
This world is a great orchestra to witness;
A great symphony of undying faith binds
As I have to sing because am the song.

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