Little

Thirsty is the shrivelled soul,

a drop of love seems ocean.

When the lonely tears roll,

your presence - magic potion.

Anger flames the age old scars,

smile provides the healing touch.

Why clamorous be those hours?

for silence can speak so much.

Do not praise nor belittle.

All one needs is just little.

The Boats

She pops up from hazy past

to sail deep inside my soul.

She unfurls my rustic mast -

waves of emotions unroll.

Long, mysterious ocean,

and we are beyond our prime.

We seek no destination,

and let voyage blur the time.

We waltz and wander afloat.

And I wish we see no port.

Twenty?

You are still that boundless joy
I first saw in a bundle.
So mischievous, yet so coy,
so wanting to be snuggled.
Then you flapped your wings to fly,
soaring higher each year.
But that twinkle in your eyes
would tell me you are near.
Yeah - tall and wisdom plenty.
Naah - you are not yet twenty.

Earth

Here once a river flowed,

down the green mountains so steep.

The forests forever glowed

layered with trees tall and deep.

But now this land is arid,

drier is getting the pond.

Man wanders, and is harried -

in search of celestial wand.

But fate favours, and it heals

those who toil and oil the wheels.

Mystical Waves

And I watched the sea unfold

her mystical waves on shore.
Along strolled my thoughts untold-
waltzed in rhythm with the roar.
Each wave with its unique hum,
unrolled and caressed my feet.
Tingled with its frothy tongue,
dwindled the sand from beneath.
And so we talk for hours long-
the waves and me every morn.

The Retard

The human-bees swarm the station,

buzz about with apprehension.

Come morning, the grim faces

bustle without comprehension.

Amid this - lone stands a retard.

He hails, then smiles at each diehard.

A stranger to these strangers-

he mingles but they disregard.

Wonder-city.

Who needs pity?

Heartbeat

For whom the heart thumps so loud-

wherefore burns in agony?

Why sing to this mundane crowd

who wrench it repeatedly?

The clock ticks to alter fate,

unconcerned with time and cause.

And the heart tussles with haste

until its untimely pause.

And this hustle will not cease.

Memory is on short lease.