Tender Is The Night

Tender is the night

And all the people sleeping under

Glass walls cage us all

Lips open and close

And produce sound

Meaning is in the mind

Eyes become interpreters

And we are misled

Triumph is in chaos

Chaos that shatters

And draws blood crystals

Crystals that shine in a reddening dusk

Dusk that closes in the arms of  morning

And parts in tears

Tender is the night

And all the people sleeping under

Silent dreams whence calm comes from

That silence noise

And settle on wet grass

Only to turn the world

A deep shade of purple

And recede unto the unconscious

A Beautiful Mind

An undying love I do propose

To a mind that to mine never did repose

In a song or mellow prose

Yet settled in a languishing yellow tune

Evoking lust and poise and deep remorse

And nestled into la vie en rose

Wedded to a happy thought

Of rivers wide that land abates

Of young boys wading through mud

And little girls swinging on gates

Tinkling laughter over valleys low

Receding into winter’s fondest snow

And here I stand

Jilted by a roving thought

A turbulent storm

An innocent child

A worldly bard

A beautiful mind

Summer

In the sighs of shadowed faces

I see the ghosts of happy children

That once laughed softly and danced in the rain

Worn now by the expectations of a civilised world

Talk softly

Don’t sing while studying

Be polite and courteous

Smile even when you don’t feel like

And we have created a generation of ghosts

Living out of tombs in fear or forgetfulness

Being this or that

Not needing anymore to be told

But here comes the soft hum of a once remembered note

While she washes herself clean of the world

Maybe we aren’t ghosts after all!

Just  winter-worn  buds waiting for summer to bloom.

What's In a Name

A sudden nostalgic attachment for a name long despised

As the time comes for the shedding of the same

Shedding with it a past identity, if an identity is ever past

So much or so little? And they say what’s in a name.

Surfaced from some forgotten ancestral shrines of my forefathers

Sounded proudly before men of worth and honour

Castrated by the British to suit their lack of vocabulary

Re-emerging with the drum roll of Bengal’s mutinous power.

Seventeen long letters, the extent of my identity

Lazy drawling alphabets stretched to fill pages and time

Little knowing how they coloured my personality

Simply musing over its rhythm and rhyme.

And now a sudden nostalgic attachment develops

For this name, that was never really mine

Questioning all that came with it

As it slowly loses its shine.

An Attempt at Healing

The ease with which fragments are born
Brings on an incredulous smile
Of a surprise fraught with anguish
For an unspoken truth to have the power
Of vanquishing all whispered comforts 
Treasured in warm hands thus far
Is a sight as terrible as it is beautiful.

A new lie is begotten
Formed of a strength alien to a former world
That lies, slowly dismembering,
Under the shroud of pride
Of kings
And mighty queens
All fire and fury

And a sadness
Too deep to heal.

Just a Thought

Day breaks
The blank page is writ
Clouds shade, not hide
Waves collect, drop and rise again
Ink flows unspilt
Blots are flowers
Or planets revolving around the sun
Empty minds are no longer blank
They're tabula rasa
Bruises play paintball
And head home light headed
Perhaps a little drunk
Even straight lines bend
And meet in circles
Even the moon is lost without the night
What then is a sigh amidst a flutter of hearts?
What then am I in a flurry of thoughts?

Playing with Shadows

The familiar lies forgotten
The unfamiliar forgiven
Months and years lay blurred and barren
A cluttered mind fumbles in sudden emptiness
And stubs a toe

The dim moons
Of previous rendezvous
Are replaced by flashing screens
That dim vision
And hurt the eye

Stray locks brush across cheeks
Weary fingers feel about for warmth
And cease mid hunt
Finding plastic instead
And a different heat

Memories lie warm and prickle
The smell of ink and envelopes
Hide smiles that never should have been
Bewitched minds crawling into pillow cases
Turning figures over in shadow play