Poem

The sound of the shadow:

Where will I leave it behind, that keeps calling back and fore,
Where should I get it lost, as even the nights are bright,
How long will it follow, as long as I move on or so,
The forgotten shadow, has some unforgiving memories.

It has watched me crying bitterly in the arms of my mom
It has noticed me making noise in the breasts of my lady love
It has laughed at me on seeing me wearing a variety of masks
As a mute witness with silent rage

Where can bury this ghost of my past

Which keeps lurking everywhere I go
Can I wear off the shadow as like my worn-in identities,
I can’t I reconciled, the warn-in shadow came calling

Where is the darkness, wherein I can confine,
The trailing shadow and its nude truths.

The shadow, resounded from behind
Never you can, nevermore you can break this the eternal marriage of sorts

I dug the ground beneath, deeper and steeper
The imposing shadow entered the pit before me lit by the burning Mid-day Sun
Happy I was, anxious too, so didn’t let glee out of my tight lips

With the spent limbs and weary heart I buried the darker me

I felt light but I didn’t feel all right
I heard the whisper, so close, so clear, so is like a last leaf of a dying tree
With pounding heart, I turned only to find
The parted lips of the shadow, the arrogance that whipped by ignorance

I cursed, I cried and pleaded it to go way
But it muttered, never ever can I let go you because for me you belong
So long, I can’t stand any longer
I can’t either, the shadow reckoned.

The Girl with an umbrella

Insistent rains, pouring from above
Sense of inadequacy prevails from within
Pointless loneliness & insufficient ego to face the inner storms.
Precariously fallen spirit along with the pouring rains    
Alone, and the rain lines above…I was alighting from a wagon
There stands a girl, quiet an angel she was…
Little faraway she stood, yet I can see sweet promises in her smile
I saw an open umbrella, so cozy to accommodate two, just like her compact heart
She came calling, it was hard for me to stop from falling… for her
We strolled amid the potholes and stagnation, holding arms,
soaking in the purple prose and the warmth of love
The persisting rain was there to make an excuse to turn the night even warmer.
 Happiness is not what we enjoy; it is what we remember happily. And
Now, it is raining, would that be a sight to see the girl with an umbrella comes calling…Again.