Has it rained on the gardens yet?

Has it rained on the gardens yet?

Has the sky shed its tears out of yearnings for change

Have the reins on fury been pulled

Has the sin been atoned for

Or has sin become as large as the earth

That god just looks away

And we straddle on our own

Towards bottomless pits

And at last it would be a humongous stone

Floating around the sun

To light

Creaky bridges through the tunnel

Smoke rises from beneath and settles on the wood

Steps start to stumble

And the impending light seems hidden behind perseverance

March along we do

But the doom of hopelessness

Wraps around our sleeves

But standing to take a moment

Only adds another block to the tetris of time

Will it hit the ceiling first?
Or we crack the safe of patience
And light rinses us with life

beginnings

Dashing by the door

Out of the corner of my eye

A few strands of hairs floated in that blink

And I rushed out

Looked right

The sprint was on

Yet even with beads of sweat

The steps felt graceful

_________________

In the train

Standing with mind wandering

The eye catches the same hair
And this time her visage is revealed

A portrait of potential warmth

Waves of hands exchanged

The minds again drift away

________________

A few days pass by
No happenstances float in the river of my life
And then as I sit
She does in the empty space beside me
Again a wave 
She buries her head into a book
Two scenarios play in my head
Silence or curiosity
Jitters force me down the road of silence
But the book lodges in my mind

_______________


Months go by
She has dropped back
Into the farthest corners of my mind
And now I see her
We are both on the staircase out
Turning her head she waves
I finally ask, "Did you like the book?"
There's a nod
And a smile
She asks me to stop
And on the stairs, we sit
With I pining for friendship
And perhaps further

Dawn and the moon

Turmoils craved by sunsets

Dawn is drawn to hope

Night brings the moon often

Dawn pulls the sun with a rope

Nightly dreams turn murky

But with the rays of sun warmth settles on

But often the peace of moonlight is smudged out

Left with the bustle of chirping minds racing on

smoldering fatality

 Perched on the branch,

It took in the smoke,

Fate was the spark,
Yet the axe was in its beak,
And it had to push back,
Else the trail of fire...
That smoldered silently in lanes
Burning under curtains
But if the bird was found
It did not let hold
This was a pair
A pal she had flown up with
Months and years
Yet she had to let go
As words cut deep
And a moment unseen
Let the water boil over
Yet allowed her the branch
The fire glared back
Tears simmered in eyes
Yet she knew the fate
If she did not keep the distance

static miles of dreary heaven

 static miles of dreary heaven

we pick rules yet thoughts aren't even

sparks fly and burn bridges 

momentarily leaving compassion in the ridges

the mind is shut and meditates onto one eye

outside noise bursts and the focus is a lie

an airy mind is being reached out to

who holds tight, relaxes the nerves as we do

seeking to be out of flaws 

but that won't keep me human

dreamy perfection can be drunk through straws

yet horizons shall be away, all of a sudden

pall of hope

 walking past the serene, gloaming city

pots and pans seeking men

the ray of hope was lifting from particular heads

stars anointing their tunnel into nowhere

sense of a window

and the figure took them up

not yet the hope was to cast on their heads

and the night went afoul

with the crown devil sending a new devil

and immediately wielding his axe

as the heads started falling

the figure watched

watched on shaking hands with the devil

but also whispering words of peace

yet the cacophony of misery continued to be stitched

the devil continued his axe

the figure watched on

and the gloom started to pervade his skin

he had been sailing for money

his rowers had been the men removed from hope

he started giving back

tiny tiny holes into the net of insanity

till the net clasped his neck

the red-skirted girl

and he chose to captain the ship

cast the pall of hope back

and row away from the net of devil

the fishermen and the woodcutter got their due

( inspired by a very specific movie about one of the boundlessly tragic moments in human history, with a very specific hint in the poem)

solace

 lentil soup on the platter

but its barely just yellow water

and brittle chapatis

but gratefulness comes from stony footpaths

roofs are heavens

even if the pitter-patter still keeps the friendship

getting back makes me smile

they paper the cracks of the great tumble down

from cars and houses

from servants

but I'm climbing up again

thats the solace

concrete

 shatter the bridges

grow out of the love

lies are seeping in

loosening of glove

don't seek warmth

hearts pumping ice

and the rope frayed away

One pinch of guilt

One curtain of lie

That evening

Opened horizon of novelty

Yet stoked a silent fire

That evening of pinching at trust

And with that one shaving

The home had to be just concrete. 

gradual bridges

 pent up,
stitched up,
tied up,

I have learned to let it bleed away,

and life has been numbing down,

the creases are flowing away

the air is a welcome guest

maybe I could draw in a soul or two

for tea

but let the road to fulfilled hope be gradual

steepness throws you back

grim shadows grip you

with even air choking the life out

existence as just a skeleton

hence gradual bridges

let's keep the climb on

too soon

 vortexes pull thy down

inch up you must

hands come like jewels on a crown

but if not to rust you trust

the window lies open

the cars rush past

the ink tickles to happen

engrave a verse of the mind so vast

one such hand is warm

but flames burn the grass

the heat soothes the past harm

but any inch forward is on this glass

you pull the chair

gripping the pen to stitch it up

you give the window back a long stare

and the words in your fingers swell up

cozy fingers at crumbling houses

but this love is that which all fire douses

the words race away in the cocoon

 love and words can never come too soon

pulverised

 simmering anger

agony's dead ringer

out to fly of roofs

horses lacked their hoofs

christened pandemonium

what if if not a burning stadium

being dead faced at dreams

hopes pulverised across its seams