Work of the words

All the words in this world
Could not form a consolation
to the despondent mind.
They seemed to be just letters
Arranging and rearranging themselves
and leaving no trace of their meanings.

The ears were echoing these futile words,
And somewhere was found some meaning
that seeped into the mind
to provide some relief and belief.

But how long would these words last
on the monitor of the mind,
until a screensaver diverts it?

And when will someone touch the mouse
to renew and revive the words?

Like a silly computer programme,
the mind runs,
dependent on external motivations.

Failure poems

(1)
A shake of hands,
Few words exchanged,
And then a kiss
To seal my fate.
When I opened my eyes,
His part of the dream was over.
I wait for someoneto fill that part.

(2)

Like a pigeon on the window sill,
My heart waited for an entry
Into yours.
But the authoritative hands
of someone in there,
Drove me out.
I cannot fly far away;
I laid an egg in there.
I wanted you to know,
by barging in now and then,
But you never took the cue.

And now,
You have barred the doors.
My poor egg-
it lies-
unknown even to you.
Hope you check your attic
And at least discard it.

I don’t have the strength
to look at it again
in case I can get in again.

(3)

The atmosphere is radiating
in the glow of the fireworks,
And reverberating with their sound.
Here I am,
Unable to revel in the display,
Lost in the thoughts that set my heart afire,
Uncontrolled even by the ocean of the eyes.

And like hot lava flowing into water
And cooling itself,
The heart finds refuge in the eyes.

Against the Current

(1)

Things become really difficult
When you want to go against the tide.
Hasn’t technology yet invented a machine
to cross the ocean against the current?

(2)
The little stone dropped by someone out there
Caused quite a few ripples in the smooth water.
But what to do when creatures within
Start bumbling up and down,
Never allowing the ripples to recede?

(3)

If the clouds can move around,
hit each other,
thunder,
and rain,
Why not human beings?

(4)
Every answer leads to a question.
Answering questions can be difficult.
Especially when you yourself aren’t clear about things.
The problem is,
questions keep arising out of nowhere,
Like mosquitoes after monsoon.
Give me a permanent solution, Lord-
either preventive or curative.