Posted in poem, Poetry, Uncategorized, writer, writing

Colours of life – Part II

When the browns of your eyes
Meet the chocolates of mine
The reds of my heart
Turn an unusual shade

So come here, come to me
And see your colours on my demeanor

Your greens have enveloped me
And so have the fawns
You have stolen my jet blacks
And paired them with your crimsons

So come here, stay with me
And let these colours linger on me

You are enveloped in my blues
And snatched away my scarlets
The way you took my heart
And are slowly seranading my soul

So come here, live with me
And throw these colours into my world
My life

Your colours have mesmerized me
But why my colours have engulfed you
Have you fallen for me?
The way I secretly fell for you…

So come here, marry me
And let our colours mingle
Fashioning a palette unseen
Unspoken
But real……

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Posted in Grandparents, poem, Poetry, Uncategorized, writer, writing

Grandpa, where are you?

Those breezy mornings when I run
I stiffle a sniff and move for the kill
But then an octagenarian stops me
And scolds me for being too fast.

With all reverence, I obey him
And then realization hits me
He has grandkids to play with
But my grandparents are far away
So ohh grandpa, where are you?

You willingly ate the horrendous chappatis I cooked
You were the Santa of my childhood
You read the kiddish poems I wrote
With deep relish and glee.

Those chappatis have become perfect now
And the poems have a slight elegance
But our worlds are far far away
So oh grandpa where are you?

En route to the bus stop
I meet a septagenarian couple
Who smile and talk like you grandpa
I converse with them out of nostalgia
Their eyes well up when I leave
And mine are lost in a tearful sea
But still grandpa, where are you?

My nights are spent lamenting your loss
And days in forgetting it
You pampered me with all thy love
And all your affection was showered
On this fragile little heart
So, oh grandpa where are you?

I keep your pictures tucked away
Locked in old cases
Scared I am from the oncoming emmotional rush
Which empty me and take my soul away.

So oh, grandpa where are you?
Maybe with my old grandma
Do tell her I miss her too….

 

Posted in girl, poem, Uncategorized, women, women's day, writer, writing

BEING A GIRL

Sleeping in my mother’s womb,

I dream about empty rooms,

I hear happy voices from outside,

as I kick the surrounding walls wide.

 

Nine months hence, I finally come out,

and I get the love of everyone without any doubt,

Lined with kohl, my eyes see pink,

as that is the colour of a baby girl as everyone winks.

 

Some of them say that I bring good luck,

But many of my fellow mates get treated like muck,

They get killed for no reason at all,

because being a girl makes the parents’ life stall.

 

As I grow up, I fight the war of sexes,

I battle each and every prejudice with my verbal axes,

So what if I am a girl or a woman?

We are and have never been less than men.

 

I speak my mind wherever I go,

to those sexist remarks; I always say no,

I am not borne for a man’s pleasure,

Nor I am the object of some one’s leisure.

 

“Speak in whispers and laugh slowly”, they say,

But I yearn to live life my own way,

At least, I have the power to aim for skies,

What about my fellow mates who are eager to fly?

 

My wings are still there but their’s have been cut,

Our parochial society has stuck their lives in a rut.

But, I still believe a day will come,

when I will shine along with my chums,

We will fight for the respect we deserve,

until all those culprits are rightly served.