Tribute

Pitch dark smoke rises
Against grey tide,

Our gathering awaits,
Broken; moist eyed.

 

I no longer inhabit me,
Cursed and weak;

No longer is my spirit
Contained in me, meek.

 

I’ve shed these clothes
I’ve donned too long;

I’ve quit this world,
I’ve sung my song.

 

The last breath, borrowed
Called you to me.

The last words for now
Were echoes of nee.

 

I can sleep hereon under
Earth’s blanket warm,

I’ve been silenced now;
A quieter, unruly storm.

…

Inhale

 

 

I had forgotten the grey,
The dark of rising smoke-
Light form, dark nature.

I had forgotten the fire,
The blaze at the lit tip-
Smoldering, sputtering.

I had forgotten the warmth,
The coal pot ignited within-
Expansive, compressed.

I had forgotten headiness,
Losing oneself to find escape-
Evasive, uncertain.

I had forgotten the first rush,
The strong vapor burning-
Rising, dragging.

I had forgotten the feel,
The clasp between two fingers-
Textured, wilting.

I had forgotten the bow,
The head, accepting fire on lips-
Breathless, inhaling.

I had forgotten death,
The goodbye at the end of this-
Fiery, waiting.

But now I remember,
And now I accept,
And now I inhale
And exhale each breath.

…

Under

 

 

 

What real visions do the moments show
When perchance I recall your face,
Knowing, what the common do not yet know,
Succumbed souls to an inglorious race.
I watch from beneath the earth, that has me
Warm, staid; only dust below the dust.
Lost souls that clamber into a mediocrity;
Even of resilient steel, now gather rust.

I care not much for the travails of the lost
Or the journeys they make with willful glee,
For only one can be worth the price it has cost,
The price of her future; the will to be free.
Death, just, has snatched me from the one,
Who made all the efforts worthwhile seem,
She awakes in the cold, shudders in the sun;
Praying for the break of this morbid dream.

From beneath the sod that covers me whole,
My prudent heart reasons this turn.
In wonder of this turn and fate's cruel role,
That I lie here lifeless; and yet I burn.
For when the burn stops and I shall be free,
The Gods will guard you, till your heart will tame.
Knowing the short term of an eternity,
Eternal, my joy; if you should call my name.

…

Life gives you chances to take choices for granted, Death is more just..its nearly the same to all. We are so involved in the rat race that consumes us, that we forget the ones we live for.. This poem is about that perspective..

Frame

 

 

 

So many words to say, so many wounds to show,

So many words my heart had never let her know.

Unspoken in the air, is a guilt that now takes lead,

Warn my heart and yet, naive, it will not take my heed.

 

I watch her from where I stand, wondering what she feels,

If all of this is a dreamy frame hung on even keels,

The picture old calls for her who always stood by me,

And a dusty glass in the frame that will not let us be.

 

A heaviness in the chest will just not let it beat,

Mindless, this time too, the story should repeat.

So many words to say, so many wounds to show,

So many words my heart had never let her know.

...

Happened to see some very old wedding photos. What would it mean to lose someone who has been your everything for more than 30 – 40 years..? I’d imagine regret for not having said enough, not having showed enough affection, because honestly, nothing is ever just about enough.. She deserved more..

The End

 

 

No blood anymore, I’ve not a heart that can pump.

Dead long before I even lay in this dump,

The last drops they had shed in violent disgust,

With a blade that’s baked with old blood and rust.

A resilient gut puts on a last weak stand

And blood, like all else, did now disband.

 

I count the morbid hours, alone in wait

Dark shadows, it seem, have taken the bait

For they hook me now to the spangle of the dead

And drag my corpse for the vulpine to be fed.

I bid you farewell, for the end is now here,

Better a sordid death, than breaths of fear.

 

…

Remember me..

Remember me, he said,
When the noise of crowds is all you hear,
When people are close, but none too near,
When no wisdom’s found in books borrowed,
Or nights are cold and dreams harrowed,
Remember me.

Remember me, he said,
When seasons pass by in lyrical dance,
When a lone breeze puts your heart in trance,
When through the blinds comes a spring’s first morn,
And you hug him tight with a vivid yawn,
Remember me.

Remember me, he said,
When flirty wafts tease your hair,
When a random paper somersaults mid-air,
When your footsteps whistle on slippery floors,
When you tremble at night from heavens roars,
Remember me.

The love we find, and the pain we hide,
Cannot outlast the bludgeons of tide,
Wounded by time and blinded in part,
Love now totters in an aching heart,
Time will teach you once more to see,
But until then my love, remember me…


…

Peace

Weary eyes have no more will,
For rest they seek, no more pain,
Let me stay mother, let me stay still,
Resting my troubles on your lap again.

I have travelled afar, and for long, and yet,
Not once have I slept a peaceful wink,
No place in the world would help me forget,
No sea big enough for pain to sink.

I have battled for long,my strength eludes me,
My scars led me here, numb yet in pain,
They were trivial, my victories; triviality robes me,
While my wisdom fails me, even vanity is vain.

Let me sleep now mother, for the darkness must end,
This warmth I have missed on many a cold night,
Another journey awaits me, the chariots He will send,
No battles to wage, nor proud men to fight.

With my eyes shut now, bright lights do I see,
Voices now whisper, and voices now pray,
No cries of the dead will ever call me,
Let me sleep mother, here and yet away.


…

Death

 

A blanket of dark has covered the night,

Streets asunder with traces of light,

Fog lamps in halos have shadows cast

Spotlights for specters that speak of the past.

 

Winds of silence, blow past the street,

Voices that whisper matters discrete.

The calm is now broken, of the night supreme

Fear into the hearts, blares an eerie scream.

 

Pulses now race, eyelids now balk,

Ears lie await for winds that talk.

Footsteps are heard, death walks here,

Spines tremble in morbid fear.

 

The tempo now rises, hearts skip beats,

The wave has passed, away from the streets,

Maleficent spirits will walk once more,

Paths then awash with phantasmic gore.

The Last Ride

I stand at the crossroads of paths not taken,
Waiting for signs from a guiding source,
Dunes of sand pile up before me,
As I leave the trodden paths,coarse.

And now I lie,in wait of a path,
That would walk the pain away with me,
And wish that with this passing time,
I would, at last, be set scott free.

Fate,it seems,has other plans for me,
I wait for the signs that HE may send,
And the real irony of it all,
Was that I'd reached the very end.

Flashes of my life rush through as a vision,
As I stare into the endless blank,
Sorrows I've received till my lonely end,
From people I should really thank.

Goodbye old friend,for the end is here,
As a dark chariot waits to ride,
A long path ahead but travel I must,
With only death riding by my side.