Lost....finding!

Taking the deep plunge into oblivion
Perching at life’s precipice
Having many a brush with death
Knowing all the gnawing malignancy
Hiding within the maddening mind
Taking a slanting glance
Beneath, behind and beyond
Gruesome and lonesome
Though it may seem…..wish
I could re-write my life’s script !

puzzled

When i'm taken for my annual universal tour
on the lap of the earth in its axis
I see the third world becoming the first
and the first becoming the third
and now i know how the first becomes the last
and the last, first,
north becomes the south
and south becomes the north
and i know geography is a human ploy
colour is in the mind
not in the skin

the Homo sapiens....scattered thickly all around
just one species ?!

The Sorrow of the Setting Sun

The gloomy shadow
The western horizon sheds
In a sloppy slant
Mingles with the frost in the valley

The pining wind
Towards the eastern horizon
Moves in hushed silence
Bellowing and heaving though

The solemn secrets
And unbroken promises
Stealthily sleep in the woods there dark
Lulls to sleep the gnashes it holds

The golden fluid
Sublimating in the ethereal high
Annihilates the fumes
Evaporating into the thin papery sky

The translucent shroud
Spreads the unknown
Labyrinths of selfless sun
When it takes a dip into deep darkness. 

it

it was winter

when the gangways of life played hide and seek

giving it a frosty texture

with hazy illusions lingering longer

it was winter again

when silence stealthly snatched its soundless sleep

rendering it a shadowy hue

with towering triangles flat and fallen

it was winter

when the crumbs and crusts were all left back

burrowing it in caved cares

with nothing to know the pain it pays

Too late !

in the dark dusty labyrinths of life

i saw a piece of light hanging askew.

in the miry mirky mirages of life

i heard a husky whisper yelling nigh.

in the tumbled, tarnished tombs of life

i felt a patch of pretense owning truth.

in the bygone baggage of life

i felt me rummage memories numb.

I, the Space

I’m like the space between words

Most of the people of worth

Are like words which convey thoughts

And ideas

But I’m like the space between words

Most of the people of value

Are like words heavily loaded

With meaning

But I’m like the space between words

Most of the people occupy spaces

Carrying message to the wide world around

And the wider world within

But I’m the space between words

I make words meaningful

Without me words won’t be words

I’m glad to be the space between words

For I am priceless and invaluable

rereads

just decided to re-read some of those long forgotten classics of old...it brought to mind several of those memories, memories linked to childhood and those sweet nothings attached to it.

it's like telling stories and listening to grandma's fairytales, a return to the childhood with strings and straws, pipes and plates, harps and harpoons, toys and tins, wheels and wires....the time spent rushing and running through ravines and raging waters, plucking flowers and then arraying them all with such grit and gaiety. selling fish and vegetables in the make-belief markets all for free, running relentless in pursuit, hiding and seeking and then panting behind the ones sought after, dusty and dirty reaching home only when hunger hits the heart of it all, waking up before dawn and waiting near the culvert for the red rays of the new sun, flying kites up in the sky and waiting for the unseen kite still with the long thread and the pull of wind, earth worms and bees collected as bait ready to catch fish with the long fish-rods !

memories...memories....childhood revisits ! in this process of re-reading life !