Of the Words that Come to Thee No More...

(For the words that don't come to me...)

For those songs and words,

that in thee descend no more,

or maybe unravel with,

a painful acknowledgement no more,

For the false deeds done,

And unfaithful propositions made.

Thy shall burden thy soul,

For love that was felt, but no more.

Oh you, you the soul,

Of painful relish,

and lustful beauty...

You the only faithful friend of thee...

I shall be telling this for ages and hence:

Oh hey you! With aching chest and liberating breath,

You are the one carrying heart of fire:

That made summer's sun to dwell,

In thy meadows of thoughts.

But now as thee gathers,

Pieces of torn winter,

and rays of summer bits,

Yet in the memory of that sun,

That dwells in thee no more

Thy rather would wait centuries,

For those songs and words,

That come to thee no more...

Of never perishing..

And yet again,

Let them roam around among clinging echoes,

Of blissful chatters and passionate whispers,

Of red bricks site and colonial times.

Never in me arose a sensation of talking ghosts, 

Who come to me through those peek holes



Those who come with a sigh:

Never realized that I was,

Being made a part,

For someone in fifties of ages to come,

To listen to the Court of a glorious past,

perhaps with an awestruck sigh.




Maybe they are still there,

Among histories of thin air,

That touches my face gently,

Telling me stories of Death,

That never came to them...

Of perishing with time,

That never came to me.

Of clinging to life

Those Imaginations down the memory lane,

of surprises and utmost pain,

they are all yours and nothing is mine

those frozen daguerreotypes, of bridges and yellow times,

Last century as I imagined them in my Utopian belief;

But a year later it only revealed:

nothing lasts forever and we both know what i mean

But still ask for change, wow our belief..

If you want to welcome, even one pore of sunshine

just don't be afraid as the road goes somewhere

And while sipping a nice warm coffee

In a decent October fall a century later maybe,

all left will be these frozen daguerreotypes

of muddy after rain scent

and electric blue cloud-like vibes.

And if for the least you feel low,

Shadows lingering to your side,

and darkness finding ways inside.

Always remember of nothing staying Gold.

Of turning it silver, you need to be bold

As nothing lasts forever,

Still I know you can love like Never.

(Random pieces, needed to clear off my mind. Out of blue, and maybe some bits of yellow too)

Of moonlit nights and shady recollections

The naked light boasting with pride from the lamp across the swamp danced with the curve of her eye glass. She could see the reflection of that light upon her arm, giving it the very form. She could see it manifesting its existence against the still water in that swamp (thanks to monsoon and algae). Above in the cosmos, there was this diva of smoked cloud, making a magnificent crack in the universe with the light of moon. The moonlight played hide and seek with the highs and lows of its intensity. She could see the beauty of the diva of night, presenting its cloud like hue before the moon: god of liquor and mercury. She could see how the cloud fell in love with immensity of that silver glimmer.
And thus she knew its fate. It had to drift apart. The cloud cannot
stand before this god like beauty because it then shall be perished like a maddened moth. Thus, it drifted apart, with god of liquor and mercury flickering at the prime of its pride, spreading its glory all over the sky. She then knew why she was feeling high. The air was so filled with the liquor, she couldn't even distinguish between light falling on her arm, defining its very form. Although she eventually chose to believe it was the light from the lamp across...
In the background, there was Silence of dragonfly's buzz and frog's croak.
Maybe cricket's shrieks too.
And soft breeze was bringing news from Roman castles and Middle Ages chapels, somewhere far in Eastern Europe. Maybe from Romania.