Too Much Time To Kill

Staring at pigeons on window sill,
Have got ample time to kill...

I heard this one...cooing,
I thought,
What the hell is it doing??
Who is it wooing?
Well then, it flew..
But another one came through...
Again this one starts cooing...
Aahh who are they perusing??

These pigeons on window sill,
Have got ample time to kill.

It's just sitting there,doing nothing,
Not even caring to flap its wing.
It looks coyly to its right,
Then double coyly too its left,
Then left-right,left-right and left.
I thinks its been left bereft,
By that damsel on the other window sill,
Which too has got ample time to kill.

They have perched for hours,
Meditating on higher powers,
Standing still,doing nothing,
Like salt and pepper shakers.
That's when the damsel decided,
To cut the chase and end the pause,
Its time to take matters into her claws.
So she flew and soared and came by his side,
But then,this stupid cooing piegon,with his pride,
Strutted along,slipped and plummeted downside :P

She cooed her heart out,
Had tears of mirth I say,
That's when the pigeon one,
Swooped in...
Right next to the damsel on window sill,
Cooing together,too much time to kill!

Timeless Words Of Beauty

Words to wind the neglected corner of mind,
Words which make the neatly folded,
And creased heart of mine,
Unfold itself from within the shrine,
Without any cue on every single line.

Sometimes the heart sings in symphony...
Or sometimes it turns utterly dissonant.
With every single vowel and consonant..
It goes aaha with exclamation,
Its curls within in contemplation,
It thumps across the ribs in shock,
Goggle eyed and left to gawk.

The jaded ink stains impregnate them self..
Plain words in a book from a cobwebbed shelf.
Hiding in the veil of anonymity.
The heart gets scrambled, it gets crumpled..
Even with words that are jumbled...
Its makes you hear the beat of a foreign heart,
The spaces in time which do not prolong,
But neither do they so easily part.
Words which immortalize the fading memory,
Like those letters written from Max to Mary.
Words which bring music to your ears,
Like 'An equal Music' to drown in tears.

The heart, beats from within those pages,
To pierce right though in gradual stages.
It's just plain simple words on page,
Which remain timeless even as we age..

PS: 1. Mary and max is a clay animated movie and it revolves around being pen friends
      2. An equal music is a book by Mr Vikram Seth, a book about two gifted musicians and one on the          brink of losing her hearing.

Mornings...

And you wake up with sleepy eyes,
With residue of effervescent dreams..
Go, get up, get going, its a long day..
Outside, its still a mild shade of grey.

Rub your eyes, crack your knuckles,
Stretch, yawn, and snuggle out of bed.
Splash cold water on your face,
Shake your head and get in place.

The silence around you speaks,
The dip dip from the tap that leaks,
The squeak from the fan that creaks.
The clock that tick-tocks, tired but true.
The sound of birds who woke up with you,
The muffled footsteps, screeching door,
Distant buzz of the lift at morning four.

Brew some fresh coffee,
Let its smell wake you up.
Not too hot, not too cold,
Just perfect that you can hold.
Have it at leisure, sans any worry..
Other coffees of the day you can scurry.

The cab arrives, the driver honks,
Swing your bag and lock the main door.
Here and there you can see few souls,
Early workers, tiring off their soles.
It looks all peaceful and serenely quiet,
Empty streets will soon turn into a riot.

Music plays in the background,
Oblivious, you nod your head in rhythm,
Lost in a completely different spectrum,
About nothing and everything to come.
The destination arrives,
You swipe in at six fifteen,
Back in front of your screen.

Once bitten & Twice...?

What if you could live your life twice?

What if you get two turns to roll the dice?

Two chances to walk down the aisle..

Would you try to make things worthwhile?

You could dodge the shit that fell on your head...

Avoid your toe from hitting the corner of the bed.

Maybe you could be one step ahead,

Than what the higher spirit planned for you instead.

Would you still be in the same soulless commitment?

Live in an intellectually morbid state of discontent?

Keep of compromising to that extent,

That the flower withers off and loses its scent..

Would you try to wipe away those reasons of tears?

Live your life and repay your hearts arrears..

Would you now be strong in those moment of fears..

Knowing exactly when the phantom from the fog appears.

Will you still walk along the path which you once took?

Or will you change and unfurl pages from a new book?

Assuming that castling will always empower the rook,

And help you find direction to the origin of the brook....

PS: Questions/characters inspired by unique characters of an unique book by Mr Seth....

What is in thy 'Apple'?

What is in thy 'apple'?

I ponder and wonder,

Whike awake or in slumber.

 

So here are some interesting facts

A big juicy apple fell on newtons head!!

It didn't kill him, but we landed with gravity instead.

New Yorkers on new years eve stand in Times square,

To watch the electronic 'Big Apple' fall from midair.

Late Mr Steve also sets his 'i' on an apple,takes off a bite from it to see,

Then converts it into a logo and 'APPLE' hits the market with a spree.

 

Lets dig into mythology...

Even in fairy tales it left it's Mark,

Snow White ate half of it and slept in dark.

In the garden of Eden Adam and eve lived in peace,

But not long after they ate the forbidden apples piece.

3 golden apples cost Atlanta,the road runner of Greek,the race,

Curiosity, marriage and lust followed.she ended up with a lions face.

And how can I forget the Trojan war of Troy,

Paris should have thrown the apple when he was a boy

 

Even in childhood when asked to draw a scenery ,

Majority came up with mountains, sun and an apple tree.

Nutritional aspect, apple a day keeps the doctor away makes sense,

But the phrase apple of my eye is utter gibberish,nonsense .

 

Why can't it be the strawberry of my eye?

Or any other fruit under the blue blue sky.

What sins have the other fruits committed,

Why is the apple in our memory embedded?

 Even I of all have an apple everyday,

But only to keep hunger and fatty foods away!

What is it in thy Apple?

I ponder and I wonder!!

Snippets....

In pursuit of Happy'ness

What exactly is the meaning of Happiness?
Happiness unadulterated, happiness ineffable, happiness so pure,
That it makes every other thing seem worthwhile to endure.
Is it the feeling which comes from the coal mines of the heart,
Something soulful,something divine,something sparkling,
That it gives the darkest corners an iridescent ring..
It is something much more,
It is something much simpler..

Let Go

Hard to decide to let go,
Tough to let it go.
Strange is the feeling of letting go,
Irony is to want it back.
Complicated it is to be stuck in reverse.
Lock it in a drawer and just let go.
Until there's an excitement of a new start,
You never had actually let it go.

The Endless Wait

The doorbell rings,
And she sprints with eagerness,
But sadly she is staring into emptiness,
Her mind is playing tricks,
Again and again his absence pricks.

Another day of futile uncertainty,
The candle of hope burns a bit more,
She drowns herself in analgesic monotonous work..
As a balm for her aching heart and soul,
Like everyday tears breakdown without control.

She even tries reading that book she hated the most,
But the one he loved and kept as a treasure,
She dusts its off, reads a line or so.
Wonders is this the line he was talking about?
Realizes, she never did actually listen him out.

The silence which she loved begins to strangulate her,
His absence, the quietness drives her insane.
For once she feels truly lost.
Why cant he be home with the evening sun?
And watch the twilight as the day is done.

There are days when she drives alone,
Picks the grocery, does  the laundry..
She tries to pull herself together,
Its as invain as trying to fall upwards,
So she ends up praying at St.Edwards.

She dials in, calls a few of his comrades..
Any news she asks with faint glimmer of hope...
Alas the same answer again and again,
He and his troops are still missing..
144 days and she is left counting.

And she remembers the day he had to leave,
To fight for the nations pride as he had said..
Her auxiliary sense was ticking her off,
'Oh stop it he said, i will come back alive..
And we will go on that pending long drive..'

There isn't much that she can do,
Day and night keeps flowing with the tide,
Pangs of solicitude has driven so deep,
That some days she just can’t sleep,
And she tires herself into the voidness ...
Listening to Silent lucidity,
Drowning herself in her dreams...
In silent lucidity.....

  PS : Silent lucidity is a song by Queensrÿche