Monday, May 21, 2012

Not Me

Each morning I rise up,
open the doorway to self,
curse a hundred things,
this is so not me.

Begin writing about pain,
hardly feeling an emotion now,
chasing the lost self, running,
is this me?

Criss-cross paths swindle dreams,
a sojourn to darkness and back,
finding peace among the pothor,
who is he?

Treading, hitting back and forth,
living to be someone here,
nights have forgotten rest,
who is he?

Gulping the sorrows within,
some numen around searching,
to prorogue the pain that lives,
is this me?

Failing and not rising,
becoming a self that's false,
sitting idle to let it pass,
this is so not me!

Sunday, May 13, 2012


One fine day and one right moment,
That some point when all this is written,
a rhyme of few words, a small sneak,
The tale of a girl, called Rapunzel!

Its hard to tell what she is,
She’s a closed flower,
A burning rage of an artist,
A little girl trapped in this world.

She’ll steal your eye, that corner look,
As she walks in her own might.
Never will she drop you with the least,
Of her attention, always ahead, that lioness.

Being one of the crowds has never,
ever been her way, yet she does,
Long to have been belonged.
But hyenas, a lioness won’t stand with you!

She can smack truth on your face,
And with a gentle smile, lovely,
She can hurt your core, truly deep.
You’ll love the way she does it!

But what she hides within will rarely,
you discover; that core, hardly understand.
She’s an inspiration, if you can look deep,
Those eyes, they haunt you in sleep!

Close yet very far, you live from everyone,
that little devil is called an angel by some!
A proud daddy’s girl and a sister’s gem,
I’m blessed to have you as my friend!

For words shall never be able to express,
Completely the emotion, they sometimes hurt,
The silence that goes between those breaths,
The world around it constrains.