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.

The slipping era

My muse found inspiration after a long gap and some random thoughts converged to produce the following! Comments solicited!
A passing moment, or perhaps an era slipping by,
A pocketful of memories, few thoughts survive-
On the crossroads of life, I pause, I ponder,
A mendicant's belongings - whither smile, whither cry?

Of the tired legs running, the shifting sands,
The illusion of living, a cosmic trance?
And how many acts, in how many more plays?
A scene within a scene, a puppet's dance?

Laughters echo, under a shroud of stoic silence,
A lingering thirst - Oh saki! my saviour, my hope!
Let me drink from thy lips, drown again in illusion,
Oh truth, what good! Oh life, I shall cope!

Cindrellas, Waiting

With dim-lit diamonds studded in sparkling eyes,

She walks aimlessly in the unfriendly rain

Forsaken by a mother and the humanity,

A living testimony to the society's shame.


With unkempt hairs and sloppy attire,

Could she dare to play with the forbidden toys?

The bare tiny legs walking, struggling to leave impressions on sand

In vain she tries to build a castle of mud; such tiny hands.


Smiles often evade her, above all they need to be earned

The self resists to lament, though treacherous heart yearns,

So fervently she prays every night, for the tide of misfortune to turn,

Questions - the innocent eyes hold; ah, she has a lot to learn!


She stares at the bright, uniformed faces, with a deep forlorn sigh

Much too aware of the glass wall - too thick, too high;

And sometimes in dark nights, this lonely girl shudders with fright,

A longing ensues for a soothing voice, that could have sung her lullabies.


She looks at the florid rainbow; amazed, she wonders-

Can the colours of joy also brighten her dull, grey life?

Gazing at nature and its myriad ways

A thousand silly thoughts in her heart simultaneously transpire.


She summons the li'l bird and quizzes, with a twinkle in her eyes

If she could lend her its wings or take her along for a flight,

For unreached by mortal obligations, away she wants to fly

For she desires to know, if there lies a heaven beyond the mystique blue sky?



With her arms stretched out, she stares at the moon,

As if imploring him in silence, to grant her a boon

She too wants to escape the darkness, bask for a moment in sunshine,

Though deep in her heart she knows, her thoughts are akin to crime.


She can dwell without love, she pleads to be exempted from hate,

Perhaps lacking in virtues, she requests not to be disgraced,

Nurturing some soiled dreams, she lacks strength to fight the battle

Thusly, in this stormy night, with utmost sincerity, she prays for a miracle!


With turmoils and harrowing memories all these years,

Struggling all this while to hold back her tears,

Refusing to quit life's battle without putting up a fight

Yet, tormented by the mirage, she appears tired.



Never having tasted the bliss of joy, will Love take pity on her?

Despite being innocent, why did the Gods turn their back on her?

Amidst all this cacophony though, some fairy tales fell into her outcast ears,

and so waits this Cinderella, for a prince, who would come and wipe her tears...

Random thoughts - part embryonic, part senile

Sanctum sanctorum of the self - a garden, tiny, concealed,

Planted were some dreams, tended with care 'n hope;

Yet everyday few die, crushed by harsh realities,

This tender heart bereaves, the mind learns to cope!

The Banished

The stony walls of the city scornfully stare at me,

The portals of benevolence are shut against me;

The mirrors of future in the receding sun, cast upon me a sordid halo

Banished by the lords of justice, I crawl upon my shadows.

What friends, what foes, what sobs, what jeers-

The venomous verdict keeps rumbling in my ears,

With remnants rustic, stacked against a stooped back

The people, the home, the future, the past - goodbye to all that.

To quench my thirst with the mist befalling my way,

With my stigma smeared name, am I forbidden to pray?

In the thorny desert that I tread, no oasis lies,

In the envelope of emptiness enshrouding me - what cries, what sights!

Fortune, affection, smile, hope, grace

All went past, bit by bit, merging slowly with the yesterday,

The lamp's long been put out, I survive like a zombie,

In the confines of the hourglass, I die with the passing of each die!

As I serve my sentence, I learn my lessons,

I brood over my misdeeds, shut my eyes in introspection,

Yet, tell me my lords, if I may dare to question -

Will I always be banished, famished; will I never be granted redemption?

Yet it's futile to longingly look back, when I've crossed several oceans,

Standing in the middle of nowhere, devoid of any destination;

Yet upon my fumbling lips, there's but a furtive wish -

Forgive me, if it'd be possible, my lords, when I'd finally fall asleep.

For the whispering voices of banshee echoes onto me,

How long shall I enact my part in this unending play of futility!

I've walked long carrying this inferno, I seek peace -

The silence of graves, the tired legs yearn for a place to eternally sleep!