Can the words carry my feelings for you
intact, and then aptly convey it too?
Maybe they can't, I just wonder...
And I wonder if they are worthy enough
to be trusted, for they've been traitors before
and are known to betray when you need 'em most
But then I think maybe those are just words
that you want. And I wonder if I'm right
I just sincerely hope that I'm wrong!!
some of my thoughts, and experiences, and whatever...
Disclaimer and Further Insights:
All the things which get posted here, come from my day to day experiences. Its resemblance to any person living (or dead...mostly dead! Anyway very few really live...) is mostly intentional (If only you can find out that it was meant for you :P).
This blog started out with my ramblings, but somewhere along the way things changed and now I use it only for posting my finished poems (I would like to regard them as poems...even if they're not :P). Someone once told me, "you are in the wrong place, you should be taking photos, and writing poems whom only the retarded can understand". Well, all that just depends on your perspective, isn't it so? Maybe I'm in the wrong place, or maybe this is where I wanted to be ;-).
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Friday, September 03, 2010
दुविधा
दरवाजे पर खड़ी चिंतन में,
सहमी, सकुचाती इक बाला;
विस्तृत होता अन्धकार है,
बहती दुविधा की अविरल धारा |
अन्दर शायद सखी छुपी है,
खेल हो रहा लुका छिपी का;
ढूँढना उसकी लाचारी है,
वरना यह खेल अधूरा है |
"पर क्या अन्दर दीपक जलता है;
या यह रात अमावास है?
भीतर जाकर देख पाने का
साहस क्या उसके पास है?"
अगर वो अन्दर जाती है,
और छुपी सखी उसे मिल पाती है;
तो वे लौट के घर जायेंगी,
और अँधेरे के दूतों को, हा हा करके चिढायेंगी |
पर अगर अँधेरे ने दबोच लिया,
और आशाओं का आँचल नोच लिया,
तब क्या ये साहस रह पायेगा?
या उसके आसुंओं में, तिनका तक भी बह जायेगा?
इतने तक तो तब भी ठीक है,
क्यूंकि सखी का साथ अभी बाकी है;
पर आँकों तुम मूल्य इस खेल का,
गर जो सखी ने साहस छोड़ दिया... |
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
The Nature of Heart
And ain't this the nature, of this friable heart,
To sigh yet beat, even if it lays torn apart?
Pick up those shards, one could try,
But slips though my fingers is just some sand dry.
Ain't this the nature of the fragile I?
And ain't this the nature, of that stranger wind,
To wear away the shreds, the existence rescind.
And to carry those pieces, till it would like to play,
Then dump 'em bluntly, and call it a day?
Ain't this the nature of the alien you?
And spread on the shore are all such pieces;
Deluged and invisible, till the tide decreases.
And playing with 'em, people, one can find;
Takes just a few drops, for this sand to bind.
Ain't this the nature of the heart' sand?
To sigh yet beat, even if it lays torn apart?
Pick up those shards, one could try,
But slips though my fingers is just some sand dry.
Ain't this the nature of the fragile I?
And ain't this the nature, of that stranger wind,
To wear away the shreds, the existence rescind.
And to carry those pieces, till it would like to play,
Then dump 'em bluntly, and call it a day?
Ain't this the nature of the alien you?
And spread on the shore are all such pieces;
Deluged and invisible, till the tide decreases.
And playing with 'em, people, one can find;
Takes just a few drops, for this sand to bind.
Ain't this the nature of the heart' sand?
Friday, June 25, 2010
An Ode to Sleep
That elusive, eternal sleep,
Refreshing the mind
And comforting as if,
One has reached atop
A mountain, high and steep.
Or, has
Touched the floor
Of an ocean, blue and deep.
These highs and lows
So unlike, the ones
You'll get with a wine cheap.
Ah! If only I could get,
That eternally elusive sleep.
Refreshing the mind
And comforting as if,
One has reached atop
A mountain, high and steep.
Or, has
Touched the floor
Of an ocean, blue and deep.
These highs and lows
So unlike, the ones
You'll get with a wine cheap.
Ah! If only I could get,
That eternally elusive sleep.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
फ़साना
क्या बतायें फ़साना, हम अपना तुम्हें
कर हीं देतीं हैं बयां ये आँखें, लम्हे दर लम्हे
पर शायद तुम करते हो बस चेहरों से मुलाकात
तभी पढ़ नही पाते हो इन कहती आँखों की बात.
पर गम ना करो, कहने को है भी नही कुछ ख़ास
उड़ जाती है खुशबु, रह जातें हैं तो बस मेरे काश
और जिंदगी बन कर रह गयी है इक जले का दाग
मिटाने को जिसे छेड़ा हो जैसे, किसी ने बारिशों का राग
और उन कातिल बारिशों से टकराती जूझती
सहमती, सिसकती, तो कभी जरा भड़कती
छोटी ही सही, पर अब भी दहक रही है आग
के बुझ ना पातें हैं मेरे, ये आशा-ए-चराग...
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