Saturday, January 14, 2006

Three Mediocre Poems

I wrote these poems between late-teens and mid-twenties. An age when everyone feels that what one is going through are the most original things that no one else before him has experienced or will experience in future. I wonder if I was bit late in going through such a phase in life, as everything else happened a bit late in my life then it is supposed to be. In the those days there was a heady cocktail of Ghazals of Pankaj Udhas, Jagjit Singh etc. and literature and discourses of Osho pushing me. Above all, I was buoyed by the fact that a couple of my ‘Letters to the Editor’ and a couple of amateur film reviews had been published in newspapers and magazines.

Your Eyes

Your deep brown eyes

The depiction of truth and honesty

Whenever they look into me

They reach the depth of my soul

And come out with treasures hidden in it

I feel like a fool

Searching for words

To describe Creator’s creativity

But I need steam of words

For the feelings boiling in the kettle of my heart.


There is corner in my heart

Which I keep as a locker

To store my past

Its memories sweet and sour and bitter

Present a kaleidoscopic picture of my past

And tell me how well I fared with my lot

The way memories dominate my mind

It helps me to run away from ambiguity of my future.


Dreams are lost with the sweet slumber.

Wishes are buried deep inside the heart.

The vulnerability to love,

The courage to hate,

Is lost.

Hopes for the future,

Memories of the past,

Are lost as I pass through the present.

Futility of existence pierces the soul.

Now I wish my life to be lost in the oblivion of eternity.