Monday, April 27, 2009

Leap of Faith

Perched atop a high rise’s edge,
He looked down upon the mortals below.
Fast paced people in a slowly evolving world,
Not a glance or a smile to exchange,
They looked through each other as they rubbed shoulders.

Chiseled from a single boulder,
Imprisoned in a grotesque sculpture,
He squatted on the edge with a grimace;
Contemplating, if it was a gift or a curse
His sculptor had vested on his sturdy shoulders.

Besides, the prevailing chaotic clutter,
His eyes stole a coy glimpse at a necropolis across the street.
An immaculate being stood clenching a wreath
On a piece of evergreen land amid the dead.
With her gaze fixed skywards, it seemed as though she looked up to him.

At full-of-the-moon she’d gleam celestially,
Like a bride-to-be she would look at him
Without a single wink in expectancy.
Relentlessly she would wait
Clad in virtuous white from crest to plinth.

Putting together all his might he would try
But frozen and broken he would end up after each attempt.
Upon those turbulent nights he would wish
For those rancorous bolts to strike
And shatter his confinement to set him loose.

A night did dawn one eventful day,
The heaven descended on earth invading every inch.
Bolts of thunder reigned with lightening and downpour;
The streets were washed clean leaving none standing firm.
Universe conspired; his prayer saw the silver line.

Aimed precisely at his pedestal,
Came a piercing lance, an irreversible bolt.
Setting him free from the shackles
That detained him since he was chiseled,
Without turning around,
the Gargoyle leapt towards the marble Angel.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Solitude's Solace

It’s an encounter with tranquility,
An one-to-one with the calm;
I’m at the rendezvous of dusk and dawn,
Where the horizon is no more an imaginary line;
And being alone is merely my choice.

Solitude is painful,
But I’ve found pleasure in pain.
I try. I try really hard.
But this scribble pad

Won’t suffice if I wish to describe.

I desire to scribble,
Every single thought in my mind,
On the thin air for sometime.
If those words for ever,
Without fading, would remain.

Let me borrow those ashen clouds to scribble upon,
I’ll send ‘em afloat to your land afar.
Pray, they don’t change their course or form
Or clash against their peers, up there,
And drain away as a thunderous rain.

Allow me to scribble on those high rise walls
In the broad and vacant streets
Of your cityscapes where people seldom stroll.
Promise you’d never distemper,
For these are a few things I’d leave behind.

May I ask you to spare your heart?
I might just find enough room in there
To scribble every word I have long treasured.
For eternity, I’ll forsake solitude
And find solace in your company.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Underdog Feline

A ball of fur with two gleaming eyes;
Dark as a starless night,
Was this benign creature
A shadow in the pallid manor.
Under the bed, in the library,
Or she’d spend time,
Near the window, on a chair.
A connoisseur of tuna treats,
And an ace in hide and seek.
Coy as a touch-me-not,
A favorite among the First twins,
The center of controversy in God’s own country.
Yet, all the glam and glitz, her peers did steal.
At times, she purred and mewed,
And got petted by her master,
Whom the world referred to
As a lowly bastard.
A feline was she till the age of eighteen,
But as an underdog she spent
Her nine lives, without complaining.