Shoe

As the years pass by and you grow
Shoes on your feet also do so
The size stops getting bigger after a while
The weight in it keep swelling though

The weight that piles is not mine
Some are moments, bitter and fine,
Some are those, who made me cry n smile
Still you gotta keep walking, rain or shine

The shoes on my feet is not clean
Off the road oft, I have been
To meet the wild pansy and brook in exile
Soaked it in the puddle and rubbed on some green

Time keeps showing who’s the real boss
Soon your old man’s shoes are now yours
Not an easy job, but keep loving the miles
My Shoe – I love you, together we’ll soar!

Boatman’s Tune : Friday Fictioneers 23 JANUARY 2015

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Georgia Koch

Misty eyes of my girl peek from the cloud,
She never griped yet hunger cried aloud,
And I row out the waves, away from the crowd;
But I won’t sing the boatman’s tune –
Coz its home my home where lies my fortune!

Wiry arms and blistered hands,
Ample catches shifts to barren sands,
God must be at distant lands;
But I won’t sing the boatman’s tune-
Coz its home my home where lies my fortune!

I scour the surf from noon to moon,
Her misty eyes are my bane and boon.
I won’t sing the boatman’s tune –
Coz its home my home where lies my fortune!

=======================================================

Coming back to Friday Fictioneer’s hosted by die-hard Beetles fan Rochelle ! The prompt automatically made me sing “Bhatiyali” a folk song style of Bengal’s boatmen, and this was in memory to them !

The rest of the Friday Fictions are at the froggy link below:

 

Bristi! – Rain !

Bristi mane –
sheola makha ichche
smritir soNda gondho
na lekha kobita
bondho phoner ringtone
bus-stand-e bheja
premer dirghoswas
bheja balishe golpo
ek mutho kanna
jhilik mara asha
megher bhalobasa

Rain is –
Damp mossy wishes
Wet fragrance of memories
Unwritten poems
Dead phone’s ringtone
Soaking at a bus stand
Wanton sighs of love
Chatter over wet pillow
Fist-full of tear
Flashes of hope
Dark cloud’s love

Rainy Days

A bike,
Endless road,
Damp monsoon air on face,
A pillion resting head on shoulder,
Bliss!

One canvas on easel,
Scattered colors on palette,
Chowrasiya’s flute,
Dreams floating around –
Submerged!

Thin sheet covering 2 souls,
No thread in between,
Silken tress on my chest,
Occasional spray of raindrops –
Intoxicating!

Replied to Someone !

Dont cry, dont try
don’t make it so hard

dont plead, dont concede,
dont let go your guard

You are pretty, you are witty
No need to undermine

Just try, and fly
And let your soul shine!

On the way back

On the way
back

Red sneaking
under the red fabric

Sprinkled
vermilion on reddened nose

Crimson lips
matching the twelve-yard border

Evening sky
didn’t turn to them for color

It was
connected to the gray inside

Midsummer Haiku

 

gift of two evenings

opening eyes from its slumber

         dream breathing songbird

 

 

Bad Habit

 

When the throat’s parched

Losing the last moisture drop

I have a bad habit to drink

As I love to live

 

When the lung gasps

For a mouthful of air

I have a bad habit to breathe

As I love to live

 

When hope is down

In the bottom of bottomless trench

I have a bad habit to dream

As I love to live

 

When the heart screams

In the big black blank called night

I have a bad habit to believe

As I live to love

Double or Nothing

Waves of life, pounces and retreats

Optimist gambler keeps on playing

Double or Nothing –

…….. Nothing?

Remembering Ador – on first ever Daughter’s day

Bashing boys, climbing trees

Returning tease like stinging bee

Reigning my life- queen majestic

Tick tock tick tock – for her I tick

Spreading joy with her eye’s light

Fairy tale night and pillow fight

Going to the fair on my shoulder

Tick tock, tick tock, – I tick for her

Morning dew, budding rose

Sunshine drop, rhythmic pose

Little hopes, big dreams usher

Tick tock, tick tock, – I tick for her

Candies n sugar, cherries n plum

Tagore to britney, we two hum

Laughter of life, for her I pick

Tick tock tick tock – for her I tick

24 Carats of Love

Fifteen years of faith

Five years of a world together

Three years of honeymoon

Tearing apart the years – under law

Cost of 24 carats of love

 

Slung mud on the face

Questions piercing a battered soul

Portals under the big red bindi – stern

Eyes and ears all around gobbling, waiting for pieces

Cost of 24 carats of love

 

Unfinished whims and broken dreams

Covering mutilated dead bodies

Carefully medicated cuts and burns

Unrelenting hands pulling, snatching stained covers off

Cost of 24 carats of love

 

A beginning of an end

End of a beginning

End of all ends

Beginning of a new beginning

Looking at life – paying price

For the cost of 24 carats of love

 

 

The Annals of a Droplet

The droplet- tiny drop of watery strife
Clinging to the dust, She came to life
On the higher echelons of life
Floating, Gliding, Absorbing

In her childish dance, searched her identity
Am I cloud, or am I rain?
No, a simple droplet, that’s me!

She blooms to a dark cloud, opulent
Mingling with other droplets, no restraint,
Feels close to knowing her goal with gaiety
Playing with all her mates, savoring amity
She begins her earth bound fall
Landing on the eyelid waiting since age primal
Trickling down the cheek, with the teardrop she merge
Wondering who she is now? Is she on end’s verge?
Rain or tear? What’s her goal?
Quench the earth or soothe the soul?

Once more she seeks her identity –
Rain – tear? For earth or for soul?
No, just a droplet that’s me!

Hard rocks on her stride she takes
Suddenly marvels the snowflake
It too is from the same heights she ponders,
Why is she not like it, she wonders!
And before she moves to meet the rest
She finds the snowflake joins her, earnest-
Just as another droplet, ending her moments of pride;
She surges ahead, hopscotch on the gushy slide
Wondering if she is destined to be the watery flow?
To shape the world and make life grow-

She misses her step seeking her identity
Trickle, stream or river?
Or, just a droplet that’s me?

Adding another drop to the ocean
She finds her belittled, disowned
Is she nobody? Everybody? Does she belong?
Riding the waves she flies, catching the surf’s song
Nestling on the curly locks of the sole sailor
Breeze blowing against the face of valor
Trembling for her existence she holds on;
The gliding droplet of perspiration
Manifesting the purpose on his shoulder
He rides alone, sight on his shore along her,
Hands shielding the grim glares, sun god sends
Or is it to protect her from smoldering ends

Her final ponder for her identity?
Rain, tear, sweat or sea bubbles,
Nay, the same droplet is she.

She recalls her dream
When she reached out with a scream
Was it the same hands that shields now
Did she rest on the same shoulders somehow?
Is it the same face that smiled back on her win
Must be the same eyes, wet to see her suffering
The friend who never left now shows her
What she gave and what world has to offer
She belongs to all, and all were her goal
Without her its dry world and parched soul
She smiles as she prepares for her ascension
With knowledge and poise, ready for redemption

She now is sure of her identity
Derelict she is not, she belongs
The all-important droplet is she!

The Idiot Ear

I know there’s no point to wait

Soul knows it’s a losing bet

The crazy heart still hopes to found

The ear still wants to hear the husky sound

“Indra, are you ok?”

 

The lone bench besides amidst overgrowth

Walk on the riverbank, Beethoven’s 4th 

Joginder bhai’s snack setting the souls free,

Soggy afternoon in roadside stall, lemon tea

The bike ride on desolate roads leading nowhere

Lost; groping; searching way back to nowhere;

Ears still straining to be tingled with

“Indra, are you ok?”

 

The eyes that never stopped to speak

Even after the mouth stopped to seek;

Looking through the silky black veil of delight

Black veil that you severed over the fight

Scarf that was part of your dupatta

Perfumed complement when work separated the bodies.

Scattered existence, nowhere – yet everywhere

 

Mom called, I told her I am fine

Bro wants to know, told him, chill yaar

I tell world I can look after

Nothing has changed, normalcy prevailing

But don’t come looking,

As you will discover, the bedside pile of books 

The clock that stopped still on the hook

The dust on my paintings

All screaming, nothing is ok

In the deafening silence of the night

The idiot ear still strains to listen the husky voice

“Indra are you ok?”

 

An Ode To… “what I love”

 

Rising snake,

Pony’s tail’

Lion’s mane!

 

Shines and softness

Glows and darkness

Mystic and the greater enigma it veils

While arrested and while it bounces out

It mesmerizes, captivates and drowses – no doubt.

 

Clouds and shadows

Aroma and whispers

Dreams, joy, resolve, anger, mischief and love

Inspirations and the emotions it encases

It intoxicates, seduces and enslaves – as it embraces.

 

Wet n divine

Dry to be merry

Wet n intimate

Dry to get a mystery

Manes and tresses

It always possesses

I try to break free from the lure

Only to get entangled more

 

 

one…two…three…

The madman under the tree

Balancing the bush on the head and the face

Careless blacks adorning his grace

Oblivious of the seconds, minutes and hours

Keeps counting the dead leaf falling…one – two – three

 

Blissful toddler in the yard

Romancing with the new realm

Trying to taste the world with his palm

Oblivious of the seconds, minutes and hours

Keeps counting the new flowers blooming…one – two – three

 

Neither a toddler nor a madman

Am a puppet in the hands of shaman

Counting each second, minute and hour

No time to count, just follow orders… one – two – three

Two little hands and a zillion watt smile

Two little hands and a zillion watt smile

Can make me work like hell and run a thousand mile

 

She wanted to come

She knocked at my door

My heart was about to soar

She got knocked from the floor

It was question of importance for some

 

 Two little hands and a zillion watt smile

Can make me work like hell and run a thousand mile

 

Waiting for a kiss

From the pretty lil miss

My little finger clenched in hear tiny fist

Hair spread on my shoulder like morning mist

Her squeaky call my only wish

 

Two little hands and a zillion watt smile

Can make me work like hell and run a thousand mile

 

Will she come?

Or have I missed her forever

In every girly face,

I am still searching her

 

Two little hands and a zillion watt smile

Can make me work like hell and run a thousand mile…

The lonely train moves ahead

Just found this one written by me on a railway trip nearly a year back. Another example of my love with metaphors –

 

 

Through the days and night

Raring the heat of anger

And the rainy kiss of love

Crossing the sadness of barren lands

And the happiness of green fresh lands

No time to stop, no time to enjoy

As it has responsibilities & commitments

Only the occasional unscheduled stop

To cherish the life around, and then

The lonely train moves ahead alone.

 

The open sky above, and the strength of earth below

Are the only witnesses to all his emotions

The flash of lightning smile at night

The first ray of hope cheering in the morn

The moonlit passions under the dark

And all the sweats he shed throughout the day

All sees them – but none feels, and then

The lonely train moves ahead, Alone!

 

Who cares where he goes, except

The stations he is destined to reach;

Who cares the scars he gets, given by

The responsibilities he has to carry without a glitch.

Who cares how many rivers he crosses and the miles

Except the men shooting reports and queries;

Who asks about the wheels that squeak, not even

The train that was with him and went away;

The lonely train has to move ahead, Alone!