The ebbed residue

A prisoner, a mendicant-
What deem, or redeem?
Of visions or none,
What see or seem?


A life strung with dewdrops,
What shells are washed ashore?
Through Here to the Finale-
What's less, what's more?


A toast to the merchant's love,
Alike to the innkeeper's gain;
Of tides that usher some joy,
And the ebbed residue of pain.

A tale told by a joker (devoid of sound and fury)

Accumulate not the woes,
O' oceanic eyes;
Nor the tiniest bejewelled drop,
From your reservoir, let slide.

For you're Hope, you're Dream,
To my dreary eyes, you're Gleam;
As raconteur, in your playful banter-
Life's brightest hue, my cherished theme.

Glow! Illuminate the night sky- my pole star,
With yesterdays and tomorrows, all afar;
An immortal speck on the Time's wall - deem,
The quixotic pair, a joker and his queen.

What Lines foretell

Of barren breaths and worn-out wares,

A tumultuous journey, a comedy of errors;

Through hearts of darkness, or a child’s glee,

A change of clothes, and I shall just be.

To a lonely grave, or a lasting embrace?

Two sides of a coin, a sigh or solace?

The unquenched spirit- near elixir, yet always afar;

Tiptoes hope and despair, through life’s door ajar..

In the court of Fate, a plea for succor,

To assuage the ache, for soul recover?

A kindred spirit, a warm abode to dwell?

An unheard prayer, the Lines foretell..

The Balance Sheet of my Life

A snapshot in time, 
This balance sheet of my life-
What assets, what liabilities? 
The Moving Finger presides;
Mere intangibles, to erect the sandcastles of hope?
And an inventory of defunct dreams? 
A cruel surmise.

An elegy of desire

Such is the power of motion/flow - May be a fissure in a volcanic crater, or a stone thrown in a placid lake, whence the ripples travel far and wide- unwittingly, involuntarily. And the unstable equilibrium is once again rendered unstable... Here below...

Desire not, tender heart,

Ye, of baser earth make;

A furtive wish or a forlorn sigh,

Never does a powerful prayer make.

Play not with fire, that threatens to consume,

Recoil! Retreat! Dare not presume;

The remains of the day - a bleak, grey horizon,

Metamorphing into darkness, the spiralling gloom.

Don again that mask, and muffle your cry,

This parched firmament - look not to the sky;

Hope may be a country, but you dear, an outcast-

Extinguish the candle burning, the fire within - let die.