She had long past doused the fire;
within or not !
to be seen.
Draped in white; the yards
trail behind, soft
These are her ballads
woven in hymns.
Stillness listens in ardent,
pally the jingle of rainbows at beck n call
furnishings of conjugated life
tinkering at mere slight befall.
Slender, supple spirit
embraced in moonlight’s silver arms
look no yonder now
then stood stoic,
the ghat – mute witness to residue burn.
The faint of what remains
as complete as the grey
drab in voicing
submerged in play.
Frolicking are the ones
whose Whites are laced with Reds
golden sunrise, resplendent!
caught in red and white penitence adieu.
far lies the land
bobbing dingy, yearning fisherman’s song at dusk …
gasping for a breathe
squiggly wriggly goes mudskipper in haste.
smeared all across
wells up with a smile at the corners of her eyes
and the cold stone walls
drawn along verisimilitude halls.
There’s the well for one to dwell
upon feelings in multitude
How else does one dunk the bucket and pull out one’s self
pitiless it may seem now
it’s only for the good, isn’t it?!
Pry, pry deep and dark
tiny flame flickers past
well into midnight
watching the dawn
break with a promise
of what could have been somehow.
Alas! White I done
by what all deemed
so obvious in advances
hurt hardly true, it seemed
ebbed and surged with the fall.
Flare white encumbered self
distance seemed farther today
stowed away are memories on fraying shelves
Pull up the garb
cover ones sanity in grace
lost some cause
in little refrain
at intervals and pause.
When did gandharaj lose its essence
wondered she in retrospect
such fondness for the jasmine trail from her hair
there’s a crop now instead
Stripped perfection, too short, a must.
Eyes weary dare not look
hidden gold in lemon bloom.
The breeze carries the fragrance
While White remains in silent uproar.
Why now should she voice a thought
scattered around her are the ‘shiuli’ buds
devoid of Hena, now in plain
palms washed off, saffron in milky stain.