The Space

We all are separated by an entity though mysterious
and fragile that it bends upon itself to give us a shape
And that edge of the universe we consider auspicious,
glaring light of all the truth we perceive called space

We are lost in it, the whole ocean of space engulfs all
we guess timidly about a life light-years apart to exist
Only to be lost in the whole gamut of distance we call
space and more of space to trip on the edges that persist

Don't we muster courage and fly away into the space
the conspiracy of all the conspiracies gives universe a space

Ways of Wilde

What is a story that we call solemn and grey?
But to fend for the ways when wanderlust is a taboo
for loving a lovable gay is to fall a prey
to the punishment which Oscar Wilde did woo

This world a panorama of thought and so
the picture is true worthy of love and hate
which side you choose, you might belong to
a sudden change in the man's fate

Oscar Wilde did call the society a prison
within which hardly anyone has a reason
to operate the apparatus of life with love
and make the solemn promise a Dorian dove

Rest a while with thoughts of a Gray
and happen to be with solemn silence you have may

The Sparrow of light

A sparrow of golden hue erupts into flight,
A broken string of dreams impinge,
its penetrating colours in the nakedness of night,
there sits in the garden a saint without a cringe,
watching birds especially the golden sparrow of light,
What to say hello or hi as listened to cries of joy,
she found her long lost partner in saintly boy,
who flies the sparrow of light to dizzying heights,
is it a joke or a token of love falling slight,
the boy wore on his shoulder the sparrow of light,
how far the earth goes, she goes too,
without anything in hindsight,
Clever is he who cleverly sees the zoo,
with a bird called sparrow of light.

A phony hope

It is a summer of phony hope
I saunter to see the birds prey
the love compost much for an autumnal dope
knowledge gleaned darkens to grey

No one comes to shoulder heavyweight life
I stay aghast and purblind
hardly knowing the inherent love strife
but a desire to calm the love-angst in my mind

A beer to quench the drought
I investigate a bar to calm the anguish
nothing challenges but the little skirmish
many voices rip apart silence a fraught

A phony hope to see the future
ready and fine nonetheless tears apart unbind


On the wings

He had heard but laughed at the strange story,
How could a diminutive man walk away with the princess?
It could be that the small man wore his tresses!
Such questions he was answering like a loquacious Tory

The princess admired mane besides the wings of a bird
for the mane lent beauty to the beast
while wings soared a flight knowing not a dread
this was the lilliputian with a long hair and lion's chest

She walked with him thus
argued the saint who scoffed strange,
love is not in a height or a sight's fuss
It is in the years of lovers' life they together manage

With the wings of the bird the princess saw tomorrow
of the midget the hair fell long and blatantly follow.

Lost Love

I beseech, requesting you not to abandon me,
but you have left unhindered by compunction or regret,
I choose to stay where I was and the destiny would let,
me go about losing faith in love for the dead sea,

Lest I drown unknowingly without you by my side,
Still I breathe air only to succumb to love's strife,
hasten and come back to where we were and hide,
behind the mask of Spanish Harlem to celebrate life,

But you will not come nor move to domain of love,
While I needlessly wait for you to take a stride,
coming nearer the spot where we first met by Jove,
those also serve who stand and wait by side a galore

Here the name of the learned poet would toss,
you who has taught him with sorrows to gloss.

The Executioner

There is no hope for those languishing in confinement,
The dead winter ahead and dead summer behind,
There is something for the executioner to cherish in kind,
Days on lease subjecting the souls to punishment.

The Executioner weeps in silence for killing those whom he knew not,
for those whom he had no qualm against,
but he must put the dead men walking through the knot,
for whom but the God to judge those and recompensed.

Is he a killer or saint in disguise?
snuffing the light of life to demise,
there is a bigger plan for him too,
With the dead whom the executioner woo,

Finally those orphaned curse him,
for all whom he had killed on the other's whim.