The Mirror

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Lights are out
The diary is lost
But I pick up the canvas
And a few crumbled pages

I hear the pen yearning to write
I see the colors painting the white
I spread my arms,
Smell the rain
Pierce my bones!
Its craving to hold on
to the window pane

I look up to the sky
It drops me the words I desire.
And in this cold

it ignited the fire

Memories are ready
Nostalgia is chasing
Euphoria is rushing
Writer cuddles the metaphors
The painter blushes

And the shackled voice
Frees itself…

in the name of silence
in the sense of poetry
in the form of colors
I paint sensation,

The nail biting news

And all of our lives…
in red and blues
Couplets of promises
knocking my door 

demanding their dues.

All the clamour

Amidst the glamour
Shriek and shimmer
for you my enamour.

Obliterating the darkness 
rises a glimmer
Poetry and shades

Intertwined to make a MIRROR.

Every night
in the splendid moonlight
You read in that mirror
The Universe speaks
of those shades again,
It sings of you
counting the stars…
It listens to your feet
dancing magic in the rain!

The writer, The painter
Deep down you know him.
You open those yellow crumbled pages
You caress the shades
with tender touch…

But when will you understand…
The crumbled page speaks of you!
The shades are all the colors of you.

Do you ever recall us ?
Do you ever realize
All this time
in the mirror

It was You
It has always…
been you…

 

I am just a leaf…

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Dancing in the breeze,
Stuck to a tree,
Hello I am a leaf,
I am making the food, hence, in a hurry!

And there I see
A couple holding hands…
I have a magical ability to read the souls
And here the story expands!

But Oh! They seem to be upset…
One of the forlorn souls I have ever seen!
I peep into the soul and see a brown life!
That used to be once – so well and green…

Interrupts my attention,
A needle knitting with so grace,
A beautiful red sweater,
In arms of a wrinkled face…

With a stoop in her back,
And a stick lying beside,
Silver hair covering the head,
I see how to humans – the old age arrive

So rigorous and vigorously,
She knits the sweater
Wishing to gift her granddaughter a present,
To the completion, she get better and better

Photosynthesizing
Draws me to them, the same couple that started to cuddle! 😦
The red sweater reminded them of their daughter,
Who was grabbed by cancer and her life became a puzzle…

And soon the love of their life,
Their daughter expired the last week,
And hugging, they wiped out each other’s tears,
And both thought that they don’t have to make each other weak…

The pain in those restless eyes…
Has made me too sob today!

But this is life, It makes me cry
When the same breeze I dance in, in the form of storm,
take the precious lives!!!
And my fellows die…

I wish they could see that I too am crying with them…
I wish they could see that I feel the same,

But they will not see my tears…
All they can see is some dew!
And that too observe some interested eyes…
Because I matter only to a few!!!

They can’t notice the same agony in me,
And so I say in grief…
I am just a leaf,
I am just a leaf…

( written as extempore)
-Sanky.

Odds to conceptions…

A tree so silent,
Could never this imagine
how much is it genuine,
A furious storm would examine…

Wind

Stomping like death,
towards tree that was a world,
Storm didn’t cease to stop,
until its people- the leaves, started to swirl…

Now the people, tense!
As death stamped its sentence,

 

In shadow of death did thousands
Of people clasped to the branching,
But a few weren’t frantic,
And did not stop the dancing…

Soon the storms stepped
into the arena of comfort,

  Suddenly!

Materialized a mighty miracle
And the storm stopped to hurt…

All again was peace…
after disaster dissolved,
But only few leaves kept the nerves,
And mystery of life they solved!

Many died in false fears,
they stepped in, lived and died…
And those mere leaves that stayed,
lived a life long of pride…

Those few stout-hearted,
served as exceptions…
Fearless and unique, they were
‘Odds to Conceptions…’

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