Stray Thoughts

There’s dust on the keyboard,
Some more on the books,
A wallet lying open nearby,
With bits and pieces around.

The walls are scattered with photographs,
Of near and dear ones;
And some more moments of cheer you'd find,
In the gallery of the handheld device.

The guitar needs a tuning,
A couple of strings too, perhaps,
It's clear they need a bit more of music,
Some fun and more laughter to sync.

You wonder where the days have gone,
What you’ve done with your time,
Mornings come and evenings go,
You seem to be stuck alone somewhere in time.

You see facades around,
And not just on the buildings,
Masters, it seems, all are,
At masking their true emotions.

Everyone you see is happy,
Or trying hard to be,
Are there no kindred spirits,
No one riding the same boat as you?

You wonder then, if you are truly happy,
Or trying hard to be,
Are you trying hard to get it all,
But missing the real you?

Time

The sands of time, o how they trickle by,

Sometimes quickly you say, sometimes a tad prolonged,

I wonder what tales these sands can say,

Some sombre and then some so grand.

They've seen the times of emperors and great leaders of yore,

They've been at the battles fought in the land,

A silent spectator as history enfolded,

Some sombre and some so grand.

Adjusted they did to the changes around,

Some from the water bed to land,

Some others from boulders worn down by time,

Until they learnt to be one with the times, be they sombre or grand.

And yet these sand lie on your feet,

Trodden by all around,

You realise it's these sand that has stood the time,

While you're just a part of its time!

Holding On

She could resist it no more,

Her eyes were too heavy,

They longed to leave the present world.

The pull was too strong,

A beginning awaited on the other side,

She was reluctant to leave the story she had this side.

It wasn't over yet, 

She couldn't leave yet, 

This couldn't be how it ended, 

She needed to know the end.

It was a losing battle, she knew it as much,

Wasn't long before she gave in, and was pulled into dreamland,

But not before tucking her reader in her arms,

Trying, as though, to carry her story beyond!

Perspective

Remember that conversation,
Of which you weren't really a part,

Cos twas between some others,

But you had no choice but to hear along?

Twas one such overheard conversation,

Between two pals who journeyed along,

A couple of seats away from me,

On a day not so long.

They were both young and exuberant,

Wanting to take the world by storm,

Both of them had high aspirations,

And dreams to have it all.

They spoke of their plans for the future,

Of grandeur days ahead,

The way their career would progress,

And mansions they would build.

Even as they conversed amongst them, 

I wondered how they'd both,

Face the challenges thrown their way,

How they'd play the game of life set ahead for them.

I glanced out the window deep in my thoughts,

And saw below the fluffy clouds, 

Beyond the rays that caught my eye,

The mansions and dotted landscape of flats,

All look like Legos scattered from the sky!

Listen

Are you a good listener, the preacher asked on a Sunday,

Do you hear what is being said and understand?
Do you try to piece together the context with the words,
Catch the nuances of what is left unsaid?

Or are you pretending to listen,
While coining a response in your head,
Rephrasing it a million times in your mind,
Wanting your response to sound the best?

Or are you even hearing, what is being said,
Listening? Forget it, is not even a part of your disposition,
You’re busy having conversations, with the noises in your head,
Leaving little ear for listening in to conversations.

Lift your head sometimes, he said,
Listen in to tales and connotations,
You might be surprised at times,
When you take time to be still, be open and listen!

My portion of the sky!

Don’t you feel you’re living in a concrete jungle,

With brick and mortar rising tall and high?

Often seeming to have a life of their own,

Springing up overnight where they weren’t before?

Sometimes in shapes resembling the next,

Oft one floor higher than the rest.

You hear the motor chugging, the drilling sounds echo,

The droning noise carries itself round and round,

Filling the air with a presence you just can’t ignore.

Don’t you feel your heart beat, in time to this tone?

There’s always work going on, something new being built,

You bet that’s another structure taller than the rest.

Are we any different from our predecessors?

Have we learnt any lessons from our ancestors?

Just beyond these concrete structures, the tombs you can see,

Of seven kings who reigned this land not that long ago,

Their only wish seemed, to be, bigger than the former,

And so, they built their own tombs magnificent and taller, than the rest.

Is it a wonder then, that my heart should sing,

When I see an empty plot right next to my inn?

It might be in line, waiting to spring,

A structure more grandiose than the ones next to it,

Till then I get more than the concrete jungle around,

Until then I have open access to a portion of the sky!

The Gift

It was a gift, a birthday gift,

One she'd asked her mother for,

Because her friends around where she lived,

Looked happy riding in one around. 

With smiles on their faces, light in their eyes,

They made it look easy to pedal back and forth, 

The wind in the hair and bells in the air,

Seemed to make them float around on those wheels.

Now she'd got one too, she was overjoyed,

The thrill of the ride would soon be hers too,

So thinking she took her bike to the streets,

With more enthusiasm than skill she possessed.

You guess what happened, I'll leave that to you,

In short, there was a lot of crying and bruised skin too,

Suddenly the much anticipated thing, 

Seemed to cause her more pain than the joy she'd presumed.

Later in the day, she wondered what to do,

Was it worth the pain to learn something new?

She sure wanted to feel the wind in her hair, 

She decided to persevere till she could smile through her fears!