CAN YOU HEAR IT?

do you see the rain?
I can see it very well though

the persistent
drops
falling against my windowpane

I wish it shatters
into a million pieces
it has already crashed into my
reverie

you don’t see the rain?
I can feel it
in every
vein
in every part of
my body
I can sense it
beating nonchalantly
against the
unyielding glass

I relish it
relish in the
damp scent
relish in its
humming
but you don’t

things have been quiet enough now
lets break the silence
or at least
let us welcome The
Rain

but no
you don’t hear it
you won’t
hear of it

you would rather
continue
this
infinite stretch
of hushed silence

the rain though, it seems
has conspired against you

did you hear that sound?
I think those were
applause

HUSH

let me open my lips
let me dig my
mind a little
I have
words,
oh yes I do

I am standing
in the limelight,
in the dead
center of your
sight

my trembling
fingers,
my
vacillating
lingers
scorching
in this blazing heat

hushed, I am
however otherwise
my futile energy
pretends,
my
mortality

let me articulate
those syllables
those
gullible
lines

oh,
yes
I do have them. . .

though
the words are
twisted

don’t hush me
it has been quiet enough now

...Conspirators' Preparation...

“listen , now
Do you hear it?”
she asked, softly
Looking at him.

She was listening to the voices
One of which was so familiar
So treasured
Coming from
Just beyond those velvet curtains.

She heard a voice whisper,
“how much?”

the words stung.
the most
glorious occasion of
her life
blemished.
marked.
By those few,
Unforgiving words.

She now realised
Why being a girl
is a sin

...

her misted eyes
focused at him
quietly pleading.

“Look,
just beyond the screen,
look
just. on. the. other. Side”
she whispered
careful to keep her voice
low
low enough for him
not to take notice.

His back was turned to her
She could hear clearly
his
steady breathing.

“breathe into me
breathe,
I have no breath left to take in.
Get up and
Comfort me
Comfort me from these conspirators.”
One of whom, it seems
Had always dreaded this moment
Had always
Dreaded
her
growing up.

She raised a hand
To wipe the tear
Trickling casually down her cheek

The light was seeping in
through the open window
and it reflected off a
glinting something
shining
on
one of her fingers.

She heard the words again
Teasing her
Mocking.

“but tell me. . .
how much?”

PLUNGE

I shudder
my eyes focused,
on that treacherous,
lethal tip.
My breath
controlled

then, the plunge.
It seized me in
a peaceful oblivion.
The Thoughts suspended,
in that lifeless sea.
while my forgotten existence,
caged
for the moment.

The fear
The guilt
The despair
tossed into
a nonexistent corner
while the desires
closed out.

My languid soul,
tasting the nothingness,
levitating.

Breathing ever fainter,
the Eyes forced shut
the numbness spreading,
while sleep takes over.

I plunged again and again.
leaving the exposed
holes
in the veins,
to prove
these timeless hours.

I Write

Sitting on that piece of ground,
I write,
in this cold and dry night,
the old tales, still unwritten
Words, in chaos,
through my fingers, spilling on to the
gleaming paper

whirring emotions
stirring the cold fire inside,
Little by little

I write,
with my blistered,
Protesting hands
giving me the warmth,
the painful comfort

While darkness feeds,
there
I can see the stars,
trying painfully,
to steal a look

The images, so bleak
with effot, I try to shape them,
into poetry

Ah, I remember

I have virtually spend my existence,
In a room,
Where the sick bring in there gloom,
And leave with,
Either a flicker of a smile on their face,
Or a solemn
Its-all-over expression
I have had my share of despair.

I remember,
Days
And sometimes nights,
was shaken awake,
Just to be soothed,
And then lulled back
to that uneasy sleep.

When I used to open
Those heavily sedated eyes,
I vaguely recall seeing
Mostly,
That familiar hole,
always dripping
My tears?
Or the cause of it.

I remember
During the months,
That hole slowly blurred,
Faded.
And I left that place,
With the same hopelessness,
With which I had come.

I remember
the stench,
And still
cringe with it.

Wish I could have been
left alone

though the things would not have been any better,
I wouldn’t have been scarred
With Those permanent, agonizing recollections

WAITING

a creak of a door,
his heart leaps
he rushes to Open,
Ready to embrace
But the wind howls with mirth at him
Your Waiting is vain, it teased

A ring of a phone,
He moves to pick it up
“ello,
expecting to hear the voice,
he so craved
----------------------
A wrong number.

Deep in his heart he knows,
he is not going to see her again,
not going to hear,
that laughter,
fresh from her lips

but till now,
he has clung to a strand of hope
like we all do,
however hopeless the hope is

the vision blurred,
with those fresh tears,
he looks around
the house ,
that was once alive

now,
all the vitality
has drained out of it
the emtyness,
reeks of
desolation

you can’t blame an old father,
to dip into,
Reminiscences