stalker

Lee Friedlander, from America by Car

inside my car I sleep on the wheel
(don't worry, the car is stationary)
my head rolling after hours of driving
I am totally rusted out
can't you make it out from my glaze
which the clouds can't hide
I parked it in a crowded place
buildings all around
I dragged my feet too long over you
now my mind nods to for me to stalk you
my ragged breath walks on the blade's edge
I simply don't care about what is right
I don't wish to build bridges
or straighten my act any more
I am just too stretched out

"you want a new beginning
I will give you that in a gilded cage,
limber up your mind to be a prisoner"

un-click it

I am just a container
of your fuddled thoughts
those inane ideas
out of gravitation poses
I try to be as patient as I can
and smiles in flashes
in the dark
in the day light I hide in surroundings
unknown objects interest me most
or the expression of the young
or even the old, guileless those are
that bring me serenity
When my shutter closes,
I trap the world in
sealing in fate

"why don't you tell me 
who will let out my trapped images
the ones which don't see the light ever-
you ought to put a button
captioned indecisive option on the top
and let me, the camera, speak?"

you gotta be here, you gotta be there

sweet child o' mine
why do I see you in the streets
lost in the abyss

sweet child o' mine
why do I see you in that roadside
my mind split so wide?

sweet child o' mine
why do I see you in that corner
reading a tattered copy of Homer

sweet child o' mine
why don't I see you anywhere
you gotta be here, you gotta be there

sweet child o' mine
why do I see you on the roof-
of your existence, I had no proof


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sweet Child o' Mine is the third single by American rock band Guns N' Roses, and the third from their 1987 debut studio album, Appetite for Destruction. It remains one of my favourite songs, of all time. 

a statement

fire on your neck
burns the picture frame
square hole on the wall
makes a statement
your eyes lie to me
I hide the discoloured wall
with a tapestry
and write some numbers
in the margins of paradise

"with a twine, tie that ego"

eye for an eye

while walking the ground
I found a white rounded stone
I drilled a hole
polished it,
found a lid to match
a perfect shape
I altered it into an eye
a beady eye
that stares at me,
tranquil

"I fondly keep my burdens locked in it"

lowly flows

that okay
is
a front you know

never could
you
understand. slow

as always
my
response had to bow

miserable
mood
keeps me so low

let us both
share
nightmares that flow

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wrote half a piku, in my own fashion

Piku:
three lines
3 syllables Line 1
1 syllable Line 2
4 syllables Line 3

Next
     choose one or two key words
     find rhymes for them
     slightly re-write the first piku

facade

Banquet Scene with a Lute Player by Nicolas Tournier, 1625

my eye glass made my eyes pop out
in the dinner table
everyone is doing their own thing
but I have to find my eyes
not to see better
but to have a presentable look
I can't have that pirated facade
we all look like the prisoners that we are
trapped in the eternal vacuum
of trapped souls

"her lute, it ensnares me, ridicules me,
and also lets me evolve"

translucency

Soap skids on damp skin
I slowly watch its descent
the lather too in its wake
I see a bubble form
I wish to blow it away
the translucency of the skin beckons me
(no, it is not narcissism)
I am incensed with that very thought

"when you pour water on yourself, I almost die"

beguiling time

time beguiles, I give in to it
the tiny birds sit on my hand
chirpy faces stare at me
I can't confront 
what I don't comprehend
two difference life forces
merge into each other

"when did I turn to stone?"

stupor

The Purple Robe by Henri Matisse

impassioned-
she sits against the grey background
deep in some thought
what, you might ask
and she will not answer
she is forced to pose
for a portrait,
her pregnant belly hidden from you all
a folly maybe
but a concrete proof of her inner self

"you build a border for her,
but I think she is trapped
in the intricacies of that frame"

diamante

that snake
sneaking under a carpet
I can see its outline
I am numbed at one place
only my eyes move
those baubles distract me
I trap that snake 
with the reflected light from my eyes

"bloody diamonds can personify innocence too"

when earth moves

Photo Credit: James Rainsford

I will do my laundry when
blue light fully fades into green
a goldfinch comes to sit on windowsill
the slippery moss can't ruin my mood
I like the sunlight on the prison wall
it is trapped for a while
can only escape when the earth moves, 
repeated each day, in that tiny cell

"virtual can be caught in a real situation,
escape too is not that easy"

finding dreams for you

my tresses
a silken cover- 
you like it.
caressing
me with careful strokes-
you cherish my skin too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

words form here
I put a semblance
only for you
you sleep in
letting yourself free in your dreams
while I search for more

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is a Shadorma (26 syllables):

line one has three syllable
line two has five syllables
line three has three syllables
line four has three syllables
line five has seven syllables
line six has five syllables

musty scents will set me free

I look at you both-
entwined in the throes of love,
musty scents of which reaches out to me.
I envy you, your freedom-
your free spirits mingled with each other.
oblivious of my staring,
you are lost in the vast space of each other.
each of your pores incite me
but I am trapped in my smile.

"maestro made me a legend,
giving me glass eyes"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mona Lisa by Da Vinci does not need any introduction. Her smile has fascinated many, and few cynics think of it as fake. But everyone has some kind of reaction after looking at the painting, her smile. I think of her as a trapped soul. This is a raw work, needs to be edited. I will eventually get around that.

the beast demands

the beast demands-
has demanded for eternity
and we give in to it
the blood and gore
weapons of the past
decorate the wall
blood-stained wall
now painted dark red
hide the ugliness of violent death

"he shuns the olden weapons
reaches for his light-sabre,
feeding the beast thus.."

an ordinary moment

that smile. 
it holds for a while.
I look at the fingers.
those toes neatly trimmed
I rub my fingertips 
like the feel of those.
when smile wavers to give way
to twinkling eyes-
I want to take a picture
as I wish to hold on to that moment
but I know I can't do justice to it

"the pictures come to life only when you take those-
an ordinary moment turns into an event"

viscous time

I retreat into thinning time
peeling the layers
I left behind the churning ocean
my fingertips move so slowly
on the edge of time
I wonder at the dryness
sliding out of the way
I walk the roads
the narrow lanes startle me
again the husk of time take me in
I smile and turn my face

"viscosity of time has to flow like liquid"

angel of shadows

in a corner of that street
a shadow looms large
it lingers lazily
somehow unafraid
I put out a hand to touch it;
in my loneliness I feel it caressing me-
magically I find myself transported to the dunes
sands under my feet feel like silky water
magic is created in the atmosphere
I absorb it all
unbroken wind blows in circles
unseen yet palpable

"an angel embellishing another world visits me occasionally"

captured memories

brother, I hold the empty bottle while you look afar
but I will look at you and the camera too
he needs to make memories, so do we.
you look not at him or me yet stand there for us
you might look forced but it isn't so
I engulf you, and that too you know
when we have found our chosen path
we will look back at this.
his proud face, he capturing us in the photo, this moment
for you and me to cherish, for him to hold.

"I will spin the bottle, make it timeless"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I dedicate this poem to all three who are alluded to.....here. Especially the one who captured the images....for us to see...

missing me

dust laden keyboard
will wait for my fingers
my laptop and my computer
won't blink again
journal of my life would be still
the streets won't see my feet again
banks will call and fall silent
in the closet
someone will find my hidden jewels
all my papers would be carefully scrutinized
but would I care,
would anyone care

hope someone misses my poetry,
and the reviews I write
but I know and you know,
nothing will change in this world
when I die 
that is what I wish-
no immortality after death.