Me and my manuscript

[Almost a year and I am still not done with my first manuscript. I feel frustrated at times. But again the journey is more important than the destination (if at all there's any)]


Sleepless night
Hopeless sight
Completing a manuscript
Is a big fight

I will win
Will not lose
Cos' this is the path
I've wanted to choose

The Mountains and the Housefly

[Discovering love was funny. And for me it happened when I was 5 . She was our English teacher. Thought of writing something for her. Wish I could write back then. Might have saved her from the muscular mustached tall weird looking handsome rich guy :) ]




From the back waters to the Kutch 
To the deep dense forest as much
From the Dal Lake to the hills
To the Nilgiri that thrills 
I think of a world...a free white dove
I think of you....drenched in love

From the monsoons to the spring
To the melancholic telephone that never ring
From the cannons to the fort
To the name stuck in my throat
I think of one, the one born free
I think of you…and the pensive banyan tree…

From the books to the lanes
To the fights that never had names…
From the rhymes to the chores
To the waves which never reached shores
I think of nothing, still think of you
I think of love, its still so you…

Wish I had a title for this poem

[It was a tiring day. Woke up in the middle of the night for these 8 lines. Weird.]


Dark, doomed
Empty roomed
Ceiling fan
Silence boomed

Madness scream
Tough to dream
Mobile phone
Your photo beam

Inconsistence

What if green was red and blue was pink
What if the Titanic sailed and never sink
What if the eyes were heart and not blink
What if my poetries made sense and were less symphonic....

They never happen, they are them
Stuck in monotony...pale, mundane
The blue pink and the green red
A colorless photo, without a frame...

Bring them life, bring them pain
Bring them everything you had in my name
Bring them the tear, bring them the war
Bring them everything that was far....