Wayside Melancholy

A return trip to your home is like
Taking a public transport down the memory lane.

You see everything travels back.

City belles pass you with their frivolous cheers.

In the wet corners of suburbs,
You see the local ruffians fight over nothing.

The green shades of countrysides 
Caress the brainy part of your head 
With their soothing pats.

Through the window, 
You also see the memories travel back 
Flashing a lost agony or pain in the heart.

Free Birds

We have wings; we have the spirit to move,
And are trussed with no firm commitments!
So we fly, like nothing there to prove
To that bliss blemished by no sentiments!


The days break out, that we see in our flight,
When the glorious Sun comes out in ambush!
We behold the seasons, in their destined shift
Into a transient time, like in a golden gush!


We care not of the seasons change, for sure,
Nor of the tragic plights of fallen petals!
We care much of the way we endure,
Till the time comes when everything settles!


Thus, singing the song of freedom, that everyone wants,
Wings-spread, we fly beyond the far-far ocean lands!

I Forsook My Special Pen

I forsook my special pen
That once helped me jot down
My life in lyrical way, open,
And that now gives me a let down!

For how many days had I written,
In how many ways, but still
That old gift is not rotten;
Let me start again, with my quill!

My heart has poems, joyous ones 
Leaping to flow out in several ways,
With wavering emotions in tons
To rebuild the glory of olden days!

I Never See Me!

I made a brief visit last day
To the places,
Which were once dearer to me,
And I traversed through
The familiar paths
With palpitating heart!


On my psychological walk
I saw a boy there in early teens,
Who smiled, and jumped
Out of joy, and sometimes,
Cried, shouted and sat silent.


My inquisitive eyes
Watched him curiously,
And I identified him as the younger me
Whom I lost once, somewhere
In the path of
My transfer to adulthood.


Amidst my dust-coated memories
I scanned for myself
How did I look? How did I behave?
Oh, these obsolete, nonsensical thoughts!


I never see me
And I was seen by myself,
Through others’ eyes, silent narrations,
And through the reversed reflections.


When would I see myself?
Perhaps on the day,
When time travelling gets possible,
And when I learn the trick of 
Psychic transmigration.

Retrieved Pieces of My Lost Poetry

I stood up, in the dark
In my half-slept awkward bed,

Letting the string of broken dreams

Enjoy a free sub-conscious wander!

The clock struck 2’

Alarming my weak beating soul!

The wail of a night bird resonated

Lamenting at its sleepless curse!

I recollected a lost time,

When I put on a poet’s charming robe!

Sometimes the words came in a flow

Sometimes with its usual blockades!

I thought, was it a dream?

Had I made such so called attempts?

Or was it just the smartness

Exhibited by a words’ apprentice?

In the dark, a support I searched for

With my wavering quivering hands!

My thumping heart too had become

Anxious at the loss of reality!

As the first rays of light

Touched the earth in golden mist!

I started yet another day

With the regained consciousness!