I Bade Them Goodbye

I lay on the pricking grass, beneath the blanket of the ebony sky
and admirably gaze at the billion brilliant burning stars
when recollections flood in.
I reminisce scarcely, yet I remember her mellifluous throat,
his sonorous chuckle and their sweet faces.
Amidst our friendship’s delight, fate, that distant observer
,hiding,viewing our growing bond, grew envious.
He pulled them away from me, and sorrow’s shadows drew close .
Comrades I had numerous, as numerous as the lines of the Iliad,
but now all that remained were the haunting echoes of their bittersweet presence.
I was forgotten akin to that star, that streak of light which flares across the heavens only
once, that visually pulchritudinous ephemeral spectre,
rejoiced only for a moment; only an instant does it stay in our minds,
before our eyes and then, it vanishes into the ebony night once more where it was
born,almost forever for we shall know not when it returns.
My words- my melancholy, miserable, beautiful words only to be heard by me,
the incandescent moon and the fiery stars,
for there are none but us to pay heed to them.
How my eyes held back the fierce tears ,how those grim drops mutinied in the spheres,
how my blood flowed,turning my face crimson
and how that maddening beat of my heart throbbed incessantly in my head,
how my fists clenched at the thought that they shall feel the touch nevermore.
I lay on the pricking grass, beneath the incandescent moon and the fiery stars,
amid the empty trees and the chilling larks and the howling hounds and the breathless
waves running hither and thither on the dormant pond,
my only companions now.
From my soul and my maddened, saddened heart, found only in the utter depths of my
body, laying there,visceral, quiet,
still forcing a painful throb in my temples,that I erase all memory- good and bad of them
and ultimately be liberated from the imprisoning grasps of reminiscence.
For I , I bade them goodbye.
A Sonnet for Love

How trivial doth be men amidst amor?

What fools they let themselves so gladly be,
To love and be loved oh! Whatever for?
It is nothing at last but tyranny.
If thou shall ever do proceed toward,
That transcendental, visceral opiate,
remember thou shalt be patient aboard
that carriage of platonic intimate.
But if it shall ever come t’ward thee thus,
For thy incandescence of youth it may,
Be not akin to countless men - nonplussed
For this fervour only ends in dismay.
So tread with caution and hold thy heart tight
For love’s allure can blind with blinding light.
Mona Lisa

Art- Oh! How it vexes me

Over the years, I sought its elusive being.
From the depths of my heart, in vain.
Turns out, it doesn't lie there,
I tried to seek it through my eyes,
I scrambled to feel an iota of how art felt.
I asked men whom I thought wise, they said art does not exist.
How can it not exist? What are paintings for? Why do galleries exist?
“Art varies, no two share the like”- she said, with a paintbrush in her hand, seizing
it violently by the throat, dipping it in hues.
‘No,’I replied, everybody likes the Mona Lisa!
She smiled a vulturous smile,
and continued to stroke the canvas with a swan’s caress.
I walked into the Louvre, went close and then closer to the Mona Lisa and stared
at her, at her smile, at her hand , her bosom, her dress until my eyes grew watery.
I didn’t like it.
The drying wall

I sat affront a drying wall,

It was painted freshly, illuminating a luxurious velvet opulence
on the wall of my retina.
The constant sight left me bored , I peeked out of the window-
murky, unwashed and unexplored.
My eyes gravitated towards a slender, youthful frame,
fresh brown irises and bony hands.
She walked away leaving me lost in contemplation.
I looked back at my book, reading between the lines,
skipping a few pages, and that bored me too. I questioned myself.
Why did I crave such wants?
The book, the luxury of paint, the desire for youthful grace-
all of them were mere trappings.
I yearned to be Diogenes,to tell Alexander to move away from sight,
for he was blocking my sunlight.
I wanted to live as I was born unfettered by possession,
to choose needs over wants.
I wanted to live with my needs.
Could I survive, or truly live?
The smell of fresh paint trickled back into my nostrils,it tickled my senses and
crippled my thoughts.
I let out a monotonous sigh, bereaved from my pondering and
looked back at the book clutched stiffly between my palms,
and back at the velvet wall which was as damp as it had ever been.
A Sonnet for death

When Death's dark wings doth cast their chilling shade,

And life's bright flame is quenched by icy breath,
Mortality's relentless debt is paid,
Souls imprisoned in life are freed by death.
Inevitable fate, thou art severe,
Thy touch doth leave no heart untouched or spared,
Thy grasp is fierce, thy face is grim and drear,
Thou taketh all, no matter how they've fared.
Thy shadow haunts us from our early years,
And whispers low with sombre, mournful tone,
Thy visage veiled in darkness, steeped in fears,
Thou take the king too, not the waif alone.
Thou doth remind us,end is drawing nigh.
Thy reign, though long, shall end in endless night.