agony · art · blogs · chastity · Painting · poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Monsters

I paint monsters for living
Sea monsters and the flying ones.
Their beards grow by day
Their hands everywhere
Touching and feeling me
Inappropriately.
Sometimes my mind hurts
When they pierce it with their claws
Trying to find their birthplace.

I sit for days,
at the brink of my chair
Computing the cost of what I have created
Not the paint and the brush
But the imagination which I have let out
So vividly that now I see these monsters
On every wall I face,
Same canines, same claws,
Conniving against me,
A conspiracy, a killing
An assassination
Not of me
But my mind.
But then,
What’s a body without its mind?
What would be left of me if they succeed?

blogs · love · marriage · old age · Poetry · relationships · Uncategorized

Promise – IV

Years later, when
Time will be old and wrinkled,
When kids will have their kids
And I will lose all my teeth,
When you will need a third limb
For your daily needs,
When no one will care
About us being in love,
When the mirror
Would blatantly lie,
Don’t believe him,
Just use my glasses and not yours
And through my eyes,
You will still be beautiful
And I will still be charming
I promise.

Featured Image- Old Couple or Musician (Salvador Dali, 1930)

blogs · love · marriage · Poetry · relationships · Uncategorized

Promise – III

When our boy is out there,
Playing, hurling himself into the mud,
When our girl is with him,
Beating him, like girls always do,
When the scene makes you smile,
And your mind wanders to the past
That was different and difficult,
You look out for me,
But where am I?
‘Right behind, Ma’am’, I say,
Your tea is with me.
Just the way you wanted,
You smile,
Just the way I promised,
To love,
Then, now, forever.

blogs · love · marriage · poem · Poetry · relationships · Uncategorized

Promise – II

When world is done shouting,
And silence is making your tongue heavy
Like a bad taste, pukish
I will let your head collide with my chest
Your hair scattered on my belly, crimson
Like blood at a murder scene
Your vermilion smeared on my shirt, crimson
Like a bullet through my chest.
I die in that moment of mum,
In that moment of mum, we live.
We will live through it,
I promise.

blogs · people · poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Underworlds

Beneath our bodies beyond our souls
We keep a few secrets.
There is so much within
That no one knows
No one can and no one should
The ashes of cigarettes we say we don’t smoke
The apathy in love we say we do
The cringe in the calls we have with parents
The lust in coffee we share with someone
Who is ‘just a friend’
We are good people, God fearing and all
We can’t cuss, can’t hate, can’t deny
So we bury
What we feel,
In the underworlds of our hearts
Simmering with smokes and lies.