Lost words of a poet


They smiled each day
As Humility made them stronger
The meek and amiable voice
Wasn’t heard.
The gazes of satire
On filthy inhumanity
From the large windowpane
And words deformed into meaning
Time couldn’t rob them of
From who they were.

The remains of those lost words,
Incite us to embrace an illusion,
Of time, being in a scurry.
As we cross paths
That unite us
With our mortal being,
The wanderer mocks at us
Steer us towards the light
Away from this misery.

Few lives we live
And for few
We outlive decades,
For the selfless
Mere blood and flesh
To ourselves, we deceive.

In this land of grief and fear
We die and reborn
From the ruins
Of those lost poets
And the souls
Who lived a life
Of discontent and drear.


Chimes at midnight

pic: instagram.com/rajatpradhan pic: instagram.com/rajatpradhan

Nights dewed the grasses
And my daffodils in the garden

Touching the chime again
While no one is watching

Starting to disperse
Towards unfamiliar addresses

Morning breeze
Touching our fingers entwined
Chills through my spine

Made of euphoric
Singularity within ourselves

I think
Now, of white sand
Pebbles on the beach
And the setting sun