Eddies of Wind

I craved for a gentle breeze,
To waft the freshness of air,
Through me;
To rejuvenate myself,
From the worries and tangles;
Relax for a moment,
And be prepared for,
More to handle.

What struck me, instead,
With a swooshing sound,
Was whirling dust,
In eddies of wind.
Left me jarred;
Gifting, what others discard;
And kept me wondering,
At how salve turned into abrasives.

But there I was up again,
Even the next day;
Making myself vulnerable,
For the play.

'Ifs' and 'Buts'

Its always there,
No matter you land where;
The 'ifs' and 'buts',
Make you wonder, and stare.

It stirs you with its glow,
Like  a flame of light,
You know you cannot hold;
For that light,
Would no longer be bright,
If you capture it with your might.

It surprises you with its calm,
Like a serene ocean,
Playing its charm;
But you know you cannot jump in,
For that itself would,
Break the rhythm of the divine.

It mesmerizes you with its fragrance,
Like a fresh flower,
In full bloom;
But you know you cannot pluck it,
For that would turn it,
Forever, into gloom.

Such is the fate of our wishful fantasies;
'I wish....',
'If only....',
And many more like these...

Deep down you know,
Its not going to happen;
For good or bad,
Unable to fathom.

But what's the harm,
In wishing and aspiring;
If nothing else,
You are living that dream,
In your heart, already.

A String of Memories

A string of memories,
Adorns the song of my past;
Whenever struck,
A special one surfaces up.


The happy ones,
Remind me of the times;
I laughed and danced,
And swung in your arms.

Walking down that lane,
Which was once a frolicsome terrain;
Now makes me nostalgic,
Of those good old golden days.
Brings tears in my eyes;
Tears of joy, for I lived those moments;
Or of the pain, for its over and bygone,
No longer there, to hold on.


The sad ones,
Remind me of the times;
I struggled in troubled waters,
Without a savior to obviate.

Walking down that lane,
Which was once dark and grim;
Now leaves me bewildered,
With reminiscences of grey.
Should I be sad for those harrowed days;
Or be happy to,
Emerge stronger since they came,
And now, are left behind in the lane.


Treasured is this musical memoir,
Every note plays a unique memory;
Happy or sad,
Those are all mine;
The ones I have lived,
Through the passage of time.

The Futile Chase

Flapping its wings,
It hopped,
From one flower to another;
Creating a beautiful sight,
With bright hue and colour.

She was running behind to catch;
Working hard,
And sweating her way,
To take it in her grasp.

But as they say;
The closer you go,
The farther it flies away.

Not the story of a day,
Continued for ages - the play;
She would run through the garden,
Just to do - a futile chase.

One fine day,
The realization dawned;
She sat peacefully,
Enjoying the sun go down;
Getting absorbed,
In the lovely vista it formed.

Made her happy,
She exuded charm;
Her pleasant fragrance,
Adorned the air around.

Cynosure she became,
Calm and composed - was her frame;
Not bothered by the worry and hurry,
Not smothered by the thoughts of pain.

Who else,
But the butterfly itself,
Leaving the flowerbeds,
Made its way;
To steal the nectar from her smile,
And enjoy the caress of her breath.

The Dark Side

Its harsh,
Just rips you apart;
With its dagger-like tentacles,
Cutting deep into your heart.

With the shrewdness of a chess player,
And the strength of a boxer in the ring;
But alas, all the games it plays,
None of these, are fair and clean.

Masks of different shapes and colors,
Is what it wears,
To hide the treachery and deceit,
That it carries, without fear.

Murky and shabby like a swamp it is,
Once you get in, it just keeps you in;
And waits for you to start rotting,
And lead the life of a lowly being.

That's the dark side,
Of this world;
Which we call our home,
And in it, we twirl.