art · blogs · chastity · depression · dreams · night · Painting · poem · Poetry · sky · stars

Light – II

For a while now
Clouds have taken over
They don’t rain
Just stay
Between me and my sky
I want my stars back
my lights, scattered
over a dark dreamy night.

Advertisements
agony · chastity · happiness · loneliness · night · past · poem · Poetry

Balcony!

Days are easy, full of sun and men and so,

I wave at them often and they revert with a smile

Nights are different, sans light sans shadows, not even mine

Stars too far from my casement.

Every night, I stare a blank sky,

dark, desolate, carrying an old moon with rashes

My heart no different.

In my balcony I stand, facing the winds who talk

Trying to hear them whisper

For they often talk about me

They bring the memories from my glorious past

One of these nights, I will bribe them to take me back

The winds pass too soon, in a moment or two

Leaving me with my barren present soaked in my own salt

Stars still don’t show up, they don’t come my way too often.

Words have taken a sabbatical lately,

My pen pining for them

I often try to read off the old scribbles

Scratches on my glasses don’t help though

The creases in the bed, I leave them untouched

They remind me of wrinkles on my face

I live in a mess, things hurled haphazardly inside

But I keep my balcony decorated

Passersby seldom care for what is inside

They judge what they can see, the balcony.

I stand there, hiding my present behind a hideous beard n broken glass,

Showing them a smile, borrowed from my past

They can never tell!

childhood · children · destiny · dreams · friends · night · Poetry · poverty · secrets · sky · stars · talking · winter

Talking to the stars

During those melancholy midnights when slumber sleeps far away

His concrete walkway bed seems an enemy as the night quietly passes

His eyes wide open, brimmed with dreams undaunted by the forces of reality

Reality that embraces his fragile frame with all the compassion and warmth,

While other kids of his age are treated with the tales of moon every night,

He is often seen befriending the neighbors of the lunar god who reside beyond the dark.

Stars like him back too, he is different, they often discuss,

Unlike others, he never tries to count them or find them when they are lost

He simply goes to them when he is lonely and his dreams are dwindling

He goes to them to seek their light and company

Unlike others, he is not finicky in his choice nor is he clichéd

He talks to them all, whoever is available,

Even to those who were left alone when galaxies were to be formed

And them, the miserable ones, who couldn’t fit in any constellation

They like him, o yes they do,

They like him for his dreams might be surreal

But he plans them oh so well in his little mind

Now, he knows a few dirty starry secrets too

For one, those tiny pin-ups aren’t quite fond of the moon

The self proclaimed wannabe lunar god who is smaller than the smallest of them

He has also unlocked a few myths with their help,

For one, not all of them belong to the Milky Way

That there is no such grandma with a spinner or a boy named frost on the moon

Stars have shared all they know but he must stay hush

For only then, his dreams can come true

They show him their scripts, as testimony to their vows

For they say about his destiny, it’s written in the stars.