“Being a turtle is kind of boring and bland”,
thought I, as I wandered the depths wondering what land’s like,
where everything around was not so blurry and blue,
And if you’re bored you could drop into a pub and have a drink or two.
I swam to the surface where two worlds part into;
I saw something floating near me, finally someone to speak to!
It looked like a jellyfish, so I swam towards it for a closer look
It was a plastic bottle thrown by a human, which for a jellyfish I had mistook.
The bustling wind, a storm of dust
And the skies so dark, as if colluding a plot.
A light drizzle – the monsoon forays over land’s emotions,
Taking me back to where my memories rest.
I see people running across the streets
Looking for cover from the swelling rain;
Alien to the feeling that raindrops bring
Trying to not get wet, although inside drenched in pain.
We see things but we do not truly perceive
I am no visitor to this lane,I walk this road, everyday.
I never before felt the presence, but now I see,
And there in the corner now, I saw this lonely tree…
(to be Contd.)
Beyond the transient horizon, there was a bright red trail,
Getting narrower, as the sun sinks and disappears into the sea
I hear the seagulls cry amid the light salty breeze & sky turning pale
While the shadows flow on the canvas of sand, they’ll never be the same way
They say you can never see the same sea twice
Each time it seems different – is it the water or is it me that has changed?
I long for an evening where I will no longer watch the trail disappear
Gone into nothing, replaced & forgotten, while the sun barely notices or cares..
Chilling night, lit by pyres burning everywhere,
Ears flooded with cries of the helpless that went unheard
Pavements surrounded with corpses and despair
Praying, begging, crying just for a gasp of air….
Waiting their turn to burn their loved ones
To bid farewell and apologise
For denying them the dignity that every being deserves
For the moments of suffering they endured, struggling for a breath.
It’s all over now, but the ground under is slipping
The uncertainty of life or even a dignified death, is frightening.
It’s become a privilege in these times to have someone near
When you leave this world, bidding goodbye to this inferno and fear.
The creeper plant on my window
The creeper plant on my window,
Nothing creepy about him though;
A little sunshine, a little air
Just like everyone, a little love is all he implores…
The Cynic Loggerhead 