A Moment’s Pining Call

 

Staring at the misty past

and forcing myself not to see

the future eager to unfold itself too fast,

I wave at the nostalgic strains

still beckoning and alive,

How I wish I could dive

back into the pools of the past,

To have my moments last

at a place that held me in its cradle soft,

That soulful embrace which still holds me aloft!

The Bleeding Flower

 

Flower you were always beautiful!

Those balmy days blossomed your wonderful petals.

Then the weather changed,

Stormy winds, furious storms

took sadistic bites at your soft petals.

Bleeding flower,

You but kept your smile,

Nature’s fury lashed you,

Biting winds lynched you,

Like a sinful rapist they groped you,

You but smiled forgivingly.

Now the sinner stands

robbed of its fury,

And you smile more beautiful than ever.

Love, beauty and harmony prevail,

Hate, anger and lust always fail.

The Mother

 

I’m the fire,

Who can fathom my

burning core’s plight?

They dance in my warmth

and see only the light!

The Flower’s Tears

 

Flowers aren’t supposed to weep,

Even if their petals are vandalized,

As the raping storms

spit all their fury

on their fragrant face.

It’s just for beauty’s sake, they say,

And tears on its petals are no tears,

These are unholy signs of its revolt.

So they just expect it to smile

while their poisonous fingers

greedily tear away petal after petal.

Listen you merciless fools!

A flower bears the pain most!

Even though its unfading smile

never allows it to surface on

its smiling face.

But a flower weeps unseen in the

dark hours of the night,

Humans, the dew-laden petals that you

gratify your senses with

are in fact the tears of that

soft petalous self.

The Smile, the Godliness

 

O thou wind-lashed flower,

Sadistic nature took rapist bites

at your soft petals,

At each bite and cut it laughed

and licked its blood-smeared lips,

You but stood unfazed for

beauty and fragrance.

The storm meanwhile

kept on increasing its fury,

But for how long?

It ran out of its fuel,

And stood panting and drained out,

When the night and the storm died

and a beautiful, warm, sunny day was born,

the profound flower stood majestically resplendent!

Its storm-lashed petals

more beautiful than ever!

Why?

Because never did it let

the smile go off its face!

A Note from Spring’s Deathbed

 

The spring's traces last,

Hot summers approaching fast,

Languid notes in the air,

A solitary bird's forlorn chirping for musical share,

Drowned in stillness,

this late morning bright and fair,

Sky's dull blue,

Overhanging the earth in paling hue,

But a smaller world is there,

The overall weariness cannot reach where,--

In its self-defined world

in a corner tiny,

The luscious wild flower

still stands brave and shiny.

The Immortal

 

I know life has rejected me,
And when death will accept me
that time is yet to be!
Till then, O Sufi, is there any light to see?
Yes brother, there is! 
It's in being with those

who have been discarded by fate,
Who have laboriously scrawled

and scribbled lifelong
but still have a clean slate;
It's in smiling with innocent dawns;
It's in basking in the sunny charms

of sultry, forlorn lawns;
It's in the faded twinkle of distant stars;
It's in saying goodbye

to the intrigues of one’s own internal wars;
It's in being with me,
And the way it is, let it be!