Love's journey

Every night I ask myself--
Why do I miss you so much?
Is it the warmth, the care or friendship?
Is it the body's need for a loving touch?

Every morning I wake up to dreams of you
And wonder why I am so obsessed.
Do you think of me as much too,
Or is it that you just never confessed?

We are different people, with different needs,
Different parameters and different ways of life;
Different wavelengths at times, and yes,
Different ways of dealing with strife.

But if there was no common ground,
We'd never have come so far.
We'd never understand or care,
Our lives would've gone quite sour.

Love, my dear, hasn't captured us yet,
And though good sense does prevail,
Do not my dreams of you by me,
Make it all seem so worthwhile?

On Stagnant Minds

I.
I breathe a strange feeling
That fills me with foreboding --
A stagnant smell is in the air,
It gives the fresh fish a scare;
And every bait just goes waste,
My soul somewhere sits in a daze.

My body hurts,
With stress it flirts,
A knot in the stomach,
A weight on the brain,
No, there's no luck
Life's just so plain.

Lives around me grow,
Relations snap, pace quickens,
We try to go with the flow;
But somtimes a matter thickens,
And you wish you could get up and walk
away from the monotony and the trade talk.

Somewhere, a heart beats with you
Wishing you would know too.
Like hills in a child's painting,
We live our lives, oscillating, vacillating.

II.
A silent music play in the head,
I'm looking for disappeared friends.
A thought,
Unclear, unshaped, unsaid,
Wells up as tears in the eyes.

There was someone once,
who wiped those tears away,
And asked me to smile.

That face, that smile, that hand,
is gone,
But the tear stains are yet around.

There is no loneliness, perhaps,
But a stagnancy
that creates a bog in life.

Every desire, every wish,
Used to begin and end with you.

Now you are a straying memory
That I force myself to ignore.

More pressing concerns of daily life --
the monotony, the humdrum, the chores --
Engage our minds wistfully
And we continue ignoring our hearts....

Love

A hair strand licked the cheeks,
An eye raised its hood lightly,
Lips curved,
And you thought she loved you.

Narcissism

A deep ocean, getting deeper,
Waiting to be explored, plundered and worshipped;
With lots to give and lots to take,
Waiting for oysters, and sand and steamers.

Lost poetry

Poetry now seems a long-lost thought.

"Keep on writing", someone had said.
I needed to achieve perfection,
But I gave up too easily.

Where did all my passion go?
I need to set my life straight.
Need to write again, and better.

Can I reproduce my poignancy?
Will I be able to write well again?

Imagination, compact-ness, seem to have died.
I need to prod my grey cells further.

I shall write well again.
Promise