'17

A searing pain each second that ticks,
And a new death each moment -
For all my uncommitted sins
Isn’t this too big a punishment?
While my brain goes numb
And suffers jolts of delirium,
Sand keeps trickling down the glass walls
But only atom by atom.

Ever since you and I had
That cute little conversation,
I am high on you,
And on this freaking emancipation.
The hangover would last long
But it’s the sweetest one alright.
It’s the seven days’ wait though
That kills me day and night.

I wish time could fly away,
Or at least keep its regular pace.
Or a magic wand existed
That could wipe out these agonizing days.
Feels like I'm entirely lost in time.
And each day is a year, it seems.
And I don't know when I'll see you again.
Would that be 17th or '17?

The Unbroken Promise

Belligerent are the emotions that confront her today.
Thousand feelings beg her to hear what they have to say.
Whispers in her head scream as she walks the busy street.
Her head spins wild, while numb go her feet.
A perplexed thought crosses her mind each passing moment.
Was it too reckless on her part to be too prudent?
Her mind is too engaged in the ghosts of her insanity,
When she left him all alone in that moment of vanity.

She walks past the street where she last saw him,
When she bid him adieu to pursue her fanciful whims.
He had begged, “My sweet Patricia, don’t leave me in strife.
We’ll get all that you want even after we’re man and wife.”
“Victor, my love”, she’d say, “Make a promise to me
That thou shalt never see me, and I shall never see thee.”
His heart’s strong will was what he had to defy.
It was the wish of his heart throb which he could not deny.

Years had flown by, yet time was standing still,
She mourns each day for the love she killed.
And now, she can’t wait any longer to see him again.
Her heart swept in guilt, her eyes shedding rain,
As she finds him sleeping in peace in that old suburb,
And inscribed on stone the last words from her only love.
“My sweet Patricia, I shall forever keep my word,
I shall someday see you again, but not in this world.”

Pretentious Conversations

All these words you and I speak to each other now
Are filled with total emptiness of space somehow.
They never made much sense while we were we.
They don’t mean a thing now that we are just you and me.
Words of love were often spoken by our eyes.
Would it be justified to call them “the unspoken lies”?
As those were the moments when truth prevailed,
Those were the opportunities that we never availed.

The long eternal silence when your hand rested on mine,
When the last thing we ever cared about was flying time,
Used to speak what a thousand words could never say.
It narrated a story of our very own foolish ways.
And now another silence screams out aloud its existence.
It’s the one that hides in our conversations of pretence.
This silence crawls its way into the banalities I say to you,
Like the proven facts of life we never believed to be true.

There were ten thousand promises that stayed unfulfilled,
And those innocent dreams we shared, that we together killed,
The sweet memories hiding somewhere dormant in our minds,
And two hearts we have stripped out and left far behind.
Would they show to us the mercy that we do not deserve,
And return to us the moments we never cared to preserve?
But then time flies back with no apology or penance.
I guess we’ll learn to live in this inevitable silence.

Born Again

A silence is broken, a life is reborn.
Some lines scribbled, few pages torn.
“Could this break last forever”, I would wonder.
It probably could have. I am well-known to surrender
And compromise on all my dreams, my goal.
Have sold to devil even my worthless soul.
But arose from ashes today, an old ambition,
When you showed me the candle, my sweet inspiration.

From a poet one day, to a nobody the next,
Vision had been there, but halted was the quest.
Love, hatred, jealousy, joy, ache,
Being on cloud nine or a sad heart-break,
All feelings within me evaporated into thin air,
Words got monotonous, rhymes became rare.
Until you provided my poetry a new rendition,
Through the words from your heart, my sweet inspiration.

Years of life were wasted searching for fame.
I mocked whichever fool said, “What’s in the name?”
Never knew the more you try grabbing the sands,
The faster they run off from your bare hands.
But now fame would never give me a thrill,
Nor I would be aroused by a green dollar bill.
What I do beseech now is just the recognition
From your beautiful eyes, my sweet inspiration.

And there’s a promise I long to make to you,
That on this endless quest, I’d always continue.
Would my hands stop again? I’ve got reasons to doubt.
No, they won’t if you’re the one I write about.
They would carve on paper your life’s ode,
Or your soliloquy when you are lonely abode.
And if I could please have your kind permission,
I’d write for you ‘til forever, my sweet inspiration.


PS: Many thanks to the "Sweet Inspiration" who inadvertently helped me write this poem, and was kind enough to give her approval to publish it on my blog, and share with one and all. God bless you my sweet inspiration.