A journey begun

I stagger in, in dear disarray,
Thankful for the end of the fray,
Count my pieces of luggage ten,
Huff, puff and settle down then

I Smile and plead for baggage space,
The Window seat, my favourite place!
I reflect upon a journey made,
As the train starts a chug-charade!

The breeze comes flowing gently in,
The mind racing beyond the din,
To trees and houses zipping past,
And memories start flying fast

I turn in then to glance around,
At little amusements to be found!
Chattels and children scattered about,
Some who whisper and many who shout!

Food and drink are a common sight,
Intros and an occasional fight!
I Look around or catch a nap,
An unread book nestled in my lap.

Pleased to meet a stranger kind,
Unexpected place for such a find,
We part with smiles and promises then,
But that's how a new journey began!

Wave Splash

I watched silently in wonder
Breathless waves rushing onto the sand
A little further up and yonder
Then breaking up in sweet surrender

Rushing backwards into the deep
Little waves retreating from land
Returning armed, ready to sweep
Roaring in joy, poised to leap

Like playful children out to play
Curbed by mother's watchful hand
Gently coaxing at the end of day
Resolved to take the last fleeting ray

Complaining, the wavelets go back to sea,
With pleas to take the shoreline grand,
Rising to the moon in a silent plea,
Waiting for the tide with supressed glee!

That lunar pull with a pitch and surge,
Sinew and steel in every strand,
Freedom to rise and driven by urge,
High tide is here to bind and merge!

Lands Far Away

Sweet smells go wafting in the air
A pleasant breeze ruffles the hair
Salty sprays are flushed with glee,
This pathway leads on to the sea

Thick green trees, a canopy grand,
A cobbled way o'er grassy land,
The murmuring leaves stand ashiver,
This pathway leads on to the river

Butterflies lead the way onward,
A gurgling sound beckons the herd,
Flowery the road as in a dream,
This pathway leads on to the stream!

Mighty mountain at long glance,
In still waters its reflections dance,
Lovingly bent over baby fond,
This pathway leads on to the pond!

Alone and idle by the fire,
I travel on to heart's desire,
Thru' wilderness my thoughts do run,
Over weariness the soul has won!

SnowFall

The blinds are drawn to keep the chill,
All is calm and very tranquil
Cosily wrapped from toe to head,
A wintry morning ends in bed!

But today the air is crisp and tight
Winter's smile is knowing and bright,
The Sun tries hard to bring up a day,
Gives up and sighs at the shades of gray...

Then suddenly someone wakes out of sleep,
Parts the drapes and gives a leap,
The outside is changing to white from gray,
The Queen of Snow is reigning today!

Tentatively the windows part open,
Faces peek out at the promise of fun
Whoops of delight and hurried calls
Dreams of fights with small snowballs

Alas the snow is not that thick,
The coming and going was far too quick,
The world slowly drifting back to slumber
Leaving a but one thought to lumber -
May mighty clouds heartily bestow,
But as fervently hope for a WEEKDAY to snow!

And then...

Groping for shapes in a swirl of thought,
Immersed in the depths of a reverie,
I came to with a start and stared,
At the setting sun in front of me!

Grim were the pensive thoughts in the mind,
And blue were the hues to the eye,
The breeze seemed chilly and unkind,
Or perhaps it was my own cold sigh!

Blind to the beauty of that evening fine,
I stood still as the battle raged,
Fleeting rays of the warrior divine,
With the dark depths of anguish caged!

And then it was so suddenly done,
The gold tint gone, the brightness dead,
The darkness surged, o'er battle won,
No hope to crown the warrior's head!

But no, for the sagacious night,
Held up her son, handsome and wise,
And an unknowing smile stole up my lips,
As I watched the moon steadily rise!

Basics

Music strikes a chord, deep and true,
Sounds give me cheer and gladness too;
And yet in my search for lasting solace,
Ever accursed silence, I come to you!

Light breathes life and happiness too,
Gay is the world with many a hue,
And yet as I look for truth and meaning,
Why, denounced darkness, do I come to you?

Words I hear and words I speak,
Words I know mean false or true,
And yet as I see what I'm born to seek,
My dear words, you fail me too?

Budding Poet of the past

There comes a time in the life of one,
When one feels, "There's more to be done"
"No use wasting time in gloom, I ought to let my talents bloom"
T'was just a time like this, When I felt something was amiss,
So, at writing I tried my hand -
Got paper-pen, and felt real grand.

But the words did not easily flow,
Thought I'd let my talents grow.
"After all", I said with a sigh,
"Money cannot solitude buy!"
Yet, determined as I was to try,
The wells of thought had just run dry!

To write a poem, one had to be sad,
One couldn't write if one were glad!
So I sat with a frown and furrowed brows,
Even nasty mood and crinkled nose;
Tried real hard, but on day three,
I decided writing was not easy!

Everything I wrote somehow seemed fake,
Poems just weren't my piece of cake!
My dreams of letting my talents bud
Tumbled down and landed with a thud!
My friends told me not to be low,
Maybe I was just a little slow?

But their comforts were all in vain,
For my hopes had gone down the drain.
So I went back to being happy and gay,
And forgot these woes in a day!

Then, as I sat one day in class,
I wrote these lines for timepass!
I nudged the friend who sits with me,
And moved the book so she could see...
Then almost laughed as I heard her say -
"Hey, you can become a poet one day!"

Shapeless Thoughts

Of the kinds of freedoms that are,
Only one seems to have no bar

No boundaries of rightness or bonds of shame,
No rules for structure or forms for frame.

There's no universe to limit the scope,
Since every corner is mine to grope

I have no fear of guilt or doubt,
And noone to mock me or to flout.

For what I think is only mine,
To strangle or to refine!

And yet there's only a small array,
Of words - to express your say...

Then it is ironic, is it not?
To bind one... born as free as a thought...

Prose And Cons

Just finding myself musing about
This poesy stuff and all the tout :
Thinking aloud just trying to see,
A tiny bit of merit in poet-ree

Now, why struggle to add a rhymed line,
When sentences can do just as fine?

Painstakingly match the words at end
And force them with a rhyming bend?
Why bother with commas and colons and all
'Poetic' devices to add to the gall!!

There's no chance, u would agree,
To go on a wordy writing spree...

And let flow the true writer's hand,
Unfettered, unshackled into writing land!
For the reigns of rhyme and rules of line,
Will subdue the talent about to shine!

Then beat the words and shape them round,
Forced figures of speech fo fe found.

And how would you proceed anyway,
To write a sonnet or stanza perse?
When every line you bring to fore,
Must bear for one that went before?

It's too much work, I tell thee -
This funny business of poetry!

So why go to all those lengthy ends,
Even as prose so eloquently lends -
That unfailing ease, that poise, that grace,
More bulk, more meaning and wordiness!

So, I've stated, for better or for worse,
The pros of prose and the cons of verse

And Now look at that, what have we?
More trash dished out as poetry?!!

Fleeting Glimpses - That sense of Deja Vu

A flash, a glimpse, an image,
Fleeting snapshots of another age -
Momentary lapse of time and space,
Forward or backward in a circular race

That view that shoots across the mind -
Some memory without a context to bind?
Or an incomplete dream of the eye that drifts,
Mystic games of the thought that shifts!

The strange familiarities to an unknown scene,
And yet I know not what they mean,
Nor recollect what I am musing about,T
hat moment is lost without a doubt!

My River

Sitting idly by the riverside,
Tossing pebbles into the tide;
Thinking thoughts of that and this,
Leisurely hours of heavenly bliss!

Chatting merrily with childhood pals, I
ndulging in callow adolescent thralls;
Those confessions of love's early pangs,
Those emotional talks of future angst!

The aspirations for things to do,
And motivations for what to be,
The pressures of simply growing up -
All open, there, for the river to see!

Now it seems like a different time,
A separate place and another clime,
The friends have each taken a separate way
Only the river flows where it used to stay!

Having travelled a path so long,
Had forgotten my little river song...
So busy admiring my feathered cap,
I left the river in my little town's lap!

But humbled was the pride that blinded me,
When I cast my glance upon the sea,
For the river was greater than I could ever be,
And though I did, it never left me!

Sounds

It all seemed so quiet, so tranquil,
Almost unnaturally calm, silence so shrill!
That crowded emptiness, so turbulently still...
That incomplete whole, the voidness of nil!

I waited, then I strained my ear,
Rubbed my eyes and tried to hear,
Familiarity of common sounds near,
That secure feeling without a fear!

I tried to remember where I was,
And where time stood to take a pause;
The last memory came of a sound,
The plaintive cry of a sorrowful hound!

I recollected feeling oddly tense,
U know, dogs have an uncanny sense -
Of telling that a moment is so;
that the chosen one's about to go!

I managed to shrug the feeling off,
Dispelled my fears and tried to scoff;
But a nagging doubt had stayed behind,
For such is the love of kin and kind...

Felt like reaching out to SOMEONE -
Alas! Some things aren't posthumously done!