Silent Whispers - Revisited

Last night's burning dream Left behind its imprint Some reds some blues Where you went through Leaving the skin tingled And the hair tousled As in the cloudy eyes The last night's dream Was burning through

Who wants to wake up from a dream so dear who wants to sleep when you are so near as reality appears dreaming & dream seems reality that is the moment of eternal entirety

Sitting in the unwinding streets tip toeing the hurting stones scared in the darker alleys facing all the blinded ends I moved, crawled, ran only to seek your way  

There are awakening nights at the end of which you find your skin and eyes glowing There are sleepful nights which when end leave you with dark circles and headache Sleep has its own feelings Only if we could understand.

In your arms I find solace in your shadow lies my destiny

Tipping over the edge of yet unknown trying to collect ashes of what has gone the deeper drill down in search of truth to see the uprising of feelings full-blown

And then some prayers are answered so silently that you may remain astounded and amazed

The trouble is nothing ordinary catches my eyes and extra-ordinaries are so-so out of reach!

A few images and Some unrelated words That's all it had My postal delivery But I know it has Passed through your fingers Carrying your warmth Entrapping your fragrance For what could have been An ordinary paper Is now being a treasure.

It wasn't all what it appeared then It isn't what its meant to be now There are always just two characters to a story You and I Others are supporting roles Even if it seems like a script's twist Trust me The story will still revolve around the two characters You and I

Sometimes living in the shadow of past and memories may suffocate you Then comes a moment of making a decision The decision of letting go, Leaving all behind, Moving ahead.

Its your mere presence Or rather absence That makes me a poetess

When the scorching heat Of unfavorable days Burn my skin I miss your shadow 

Some more miles beyond your allurement A few roads forward where your eyes do not observe Some more distance where your shadow does not follow A few inches ahead Where there is no YOU Captured in the orbit of your magnetism Is there a way to escape?

" how could you judge someone's feelings? How could you ever know whats in their heart? " sila asked If Sila thought these questions never occured to Mawra, she was wrong. She had been pondering the same. It was one thimg spending time with somebody being friends and sharing everyday routine. It was another being in love and feeling the tenderness for them. This was the dilemma of one sided affairs, crushes or un expressed feelings. It was the ache that everyone in love had to go through. She was not alone. ' I know one thing sila, if I ever see him again and look into his eyes, i will have the answer to all my queries. Eyes are the windows to the soul and I would never miss this chance again" "What if you dont see what you expect to see in his eyes?" Sila was being so practical, it hurt. She closed her eyes with a painful expression on her face. "I will surrender to the truth then. I know he had had many women in his life and i do ...

I write not for me but for the one - in me

Sometimes its the silence that hurts your hearing. Sometimes its the voice that brings you inner peace.

Stories created or stories formed the difference between Make believe and reality Enroute an unknown way As Our paths crossed A new story was born Though the shortest Known epic it may be If ever penned down I am ascertained Would be the most Wonderful of all

Its known too well how depression and mental trauma can effect your life. But sometimes it goes beyond the limits of pain alone. It costs you your life. I met her today  where I was dealing at the out patinet department. The woman was quite gôod and healthy looking by appearance. In her fifties. She had a breast lump which was apparantly looking bad. On asking she told me she is keeping it for seven years. And on my astonishing response over such a long time she told me how she suffered losses of her husband initially and then her nephew that made her depressed and she never gave attention to her own dis ease. The lump today had grown into an aggressive tumor. What she could have survived years ago is now costing her life. I am sad for her today and all such humans.

A year has magic A whole year its decisive it changes paths it drives or drains it moves or stands A person dies and we feel the pain, the memories don't remain fresh as they used to be, the pain diminishes too and as one whole year skips, the intensity tones down. Then we remember but not with pain, with smiles and sadness together. Then we remember but oh so occasionally. Then we remember, but so rarely. So I am waiting for the year to end. A one whole year spent without your presence. (But then I am lying here, when was it that your presence wasn't felt?) without seeing or hearing, without knowing life's little or bigger changes. And if this year's end brings a change, if I remember but with less pain, if I remember oh so occasionally, if I remember very rarely, and in the end if the intensity mellow down, I will come to know its over. But there is always another side to the mirror. If it all stays the same, the feelings, the presence, remembrance a...

Sometimes life ridicules you. The behaviour that hints of persistency are most vulnerable The dreams giving you utmost pleasure are the one susceptible to shatter The people you love most ardently are the one to sweep you off your balance Life could not be a bigger joke But even then We ridicule ourselves by not believing it all.

I do not ask for more But if just for once I could have you around with world banished and people vanished except you and except me when whispers are louder and smiles are laughter when night is endless and dream is shameless when I breathe to smell your fragrance on my skin and the heat I radiate burn you profusely and when the world is nothing but the two of us In that eternal moment If I could whisper to you the secret that I behold for you alone I do not ask for more

Love to be a collector I with so many of my assets As in my gloomy moments I open the lid and take them out Smiles, laughter And galaxies Tender feelings And memories Realities amd imagery

At times its this Longing that keeps you moving

The quivering lips and awaiting eyes the rumpled hair and lost smiles at one moment in time though the clock moves on yet the spell stands still

Sawan beeto jaey

Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks.