gone in the wind...

Rust and dust lied deep inside;
rusted were his steps
and
dusted were his thoughts.
To douse the flames of failure,
he tried to pull out  himself
from
 his life getting bigger and unmeasurable,
and leave behind
the agony, the fluster and acerbic stress.

He was crying with his reflections since long
but today

was mum
without any hitch and fear and dismay.
like a silent sea
 without any urge to touch the moon.
Wished to end up things in a better manner soon
and experiment one more time.
but surrendered
before the gale of his instinctive voice,
that tried hard to cling to the things slipping away,
listen to the lullaby heard long back,
and say

To  all those whom he loved and still does,
he is going to wither and break down into pieces
get wet in the mud of divine and then write down

the unheard words.
To look down again  and ask,what wrong did he do?

and
he walked away in silence

 without saying a word,
without the consent and without any prophecy.
must be hard for him

to leave people and meet the infinite
but is harder for all those 
who are left with the  poverty of his destiny.

Many facts in life are unbearable and too bitter to live with especially then when our strings are attached to some of their corners.We are left with no choice other than keep on standing and looking at the things that just happened and robbed all our peace and the fact that we couldn't stop it makes us further weak and helpless.This write is dedicated to all those souls resting in peace(I guess)who had also no choice but walk away from this biased and illogical life that might have created umpteen confusions that they preferred to leave the wale of tears than to confront them.But whatever they did and thought and decided no less made feel us forlorn and deserted.Their absence is felt.

Destiny of words

They played like an urchin

And change the course of line.

I wonder, I gape and dance around

To look at the changes they make at mine.

Some gawk at me and few mock,

Else talk and play me a native song.

While I look for a new age word

They cringe to live for a little long.

They come, they live and often they die

Every age discovers to try

Words that put a life to thoughts

And seize the world with chronic knots.

A vintage world in books of dust

With lines having fiat to convey

No matter how fame it has

One day they all become cliché.

 Cliche,hackneyed and derogatory words must be behaving a glorious past at the times they were discovered and widely used. Their stories,roots,origin,phonetic euphoria helps in creating a personal corner where some of them live forever whereas else get replaced with changing time.Sentences become more heavy,purpose turns more firm and voices become more convincing if we have words we put our faith in.The destiny of words take them from an episodic doggerel to marvellous writes,they have the power to change the course of line for sure.....

Some new colors..



A misty scene with a silence of peace..





A random paint for the rural sentiments




The sides of feminism,rural visages...



Roller- coaster- ride

Roller- coaster- ride WritersCafe.org

Under the folds of blanket when I lie down

with the curve of my belly and arms as chords.

To share my day while I sleep

and think of the events,evens and odds.

With a deep sigh and a big smile

for his stare and helpful solace.

The moment which was turning blue

held the time and seized its pace.

I turned my side towards the left

to see the attire of the fop.

It was a nylon quite outmoded

but red satin which looked like a prop.

Piles of files when smiled at me

I dragged my doze to wrap me over.

To live this night full of dreams

and let my dreams to swim and hover.

In the morning to design my day

I smile at my dream and look outside.

The sun where winks to wish good luck

for one more roller coaster ride.

The lost times

The lost times-1
I am scared of the vintage.

For what I am speaking will remain in whispers.
For what I am writing will soak in papers.
The light in the picture is the light of the past
that had a life but not today.
The stories untold and events umpteen
are lost somewhere in the heap of dismay.
I must have lived somewhere in the yore
and living again with no instinct.
The day will come when I too will be gone,
leaving behind my dust in synch.

The lost times-2

The world that lived few years back
is still alive with faces changed.
Eyes stare and smiles so powerful
to knock the door of peace forayed.


Look at them,their glimmering faces
speaking of the fun they once had.
I can find me among one of them,
with the same expression and a dusty clad.

random in sinecure..

the laughter that has a power of living up his dreams

fop girls in the flaunting attire...

waiting for turn.....



Little dolly hiding behind the door...oooooo



rural visages..

t

feet soiled and wet drape leaves behind memories of village..

soil that bears,soil that gives,soil that is rich

din of quietness moves with the steps.....

A potter's life is a life of creativity giivng life to soil and clay...