If not in Medias res

It takes courage to walk away

From conflict, thinking good of those who

Did it, without knowledge of the other way;

On the green meadow, under the sky so blue.

Tough enough to keep off words when

Looks narrow down from islands oozing water,

Arrows flowing up and down from speakers so sane;

Groups, crowds, teams gift swords of words to the defaulter.

Power, is to bless being right in the mess unaware,

Not to colour alone, with hatred and flair;

Strength is where the self, nests in a state of no offence,

To see what is deep inside all alike in nothing, in silence.

It takes love to loosen the strings, shred off the wings,

Take the squeezing poem out when it sings,

Out of being in Medias res walking down the aisle;

Limping, crawling yet waking up to the smile.

original fun

Faith in belief,
A big anger in a gun,
Cutting everyone
Until there is none;
Or cloning all bipeds
Into an insipid one.

One is not so easy,
Yet it is the original fun,
When differences don't blow
And sense begins to flow;
We will have begun
To see the moon in sun.

Trace

Her steps are not so tall,
Her face like mirror, round and small;
She came to me in ecstasy,
To show me what I want to see.

She sang when the sky was with the moon,
Danced to the leaves with a tender tune;
I was covered in a place so pretty known,
Lied on the root much overgrown.

One step up she sang with me,
My heart was on her dancing face;
It mellowed well through the breezing tree,
Her joys had left a little trace.

Date

You were there the other day,

I had a wound I dared to say,

It is there and yet to heal,

When to date I don’t see still.

I call a number to book the seat

Don’t know if there’s a chance

For us to meet!

Would roam around without a glance,

No meaning there without you,

Come to me come anew,

No words breathe, and none asleep;

My heart abounds a loving beep

I can’t listen and I can’t see

My part apart from all of me.

Catharsis

Audience is there inside the play

It is also there outside,

When Hamlet was cutting it out

With eyes on the gauging mother arrested from a side.

When sets don’t match,

A lookout screams for a third,

To catch the clue, and perhaps also understand

Need is to listen to the mess in the herd,

With a mind aligned, without a stand.

Amidst what is it to pound and what it is to hiss,

The flow of fear is far from near trapped to loosen catharsis.

In the gloom scattered in the room

Stage is done with pride.

Audience is there inside the play like an unwanted groom

Eating it all, with eyes outside.

stance

In the world outside, change is in the air

In the world inside, it’s the constant affair.

It's little strange

I don’t need to change;

in my garden, the same old tree

was there before my birth, will be still after me;

the same food, the same place,

same friends, the same dress;

if I remain the same,

I like who’re unlike me,

there’s nothing wrong, no shame

if I just let me be.
Like days and nights, fruits of the season I eat
Do not but repeat.

In the world outside, change is in the air

In the world inside, it’s the constant affair.

The instrument

The cream of crime

is when it doesn’t rhyme

The beauty of bliss

is when it is amiss
thinking of that or this

and sleeps, wakes up out of time!

They are so everything, in everything

Rhythm that comes from reading

Tune from the heart

words can merely part

from the most outstanding art…

For it is they we see, recite and sing!

nameless

When everything’s in fire,

unstable in the wind of ire,

it comes out of me.

When everything’s cool,

there’s a yearning owl,

It returns to me.

I see it, hold it all the time

it can sing, it can rhyme,

with the whole of me, I taste

find a place for it to nest,

it’s not for sale or hire,

There’s for it in it a desire.

trail

From the moving train a pair of eyes,

Saw a white trail running away;

From the middle of an unkempt meadow,

The grey trying to free away, from the heavy head.

Holes in the nose smell of cow dung,

Ears are full of sounds of wheels.

Body shakes and the mind flies,

It goes outside to find a way;

Clouds fall as snow as though,  

Cotton drops with words unread.

Moving to act, unseen unsung,

All at ease when it heals.

Where to build the surest den

Speakers in crowd shouting aloud;

It stops a little so we can plan,

Strangers around to comfort me,

Concealed thrills for times it went,

Of what it thought and what it meant.

Nothing’s known as I can see;

Nowhere to go, nothing to span.

My train’s name has made me proud,

Of a trail that fell on the grass again.

support

I wake up this morning to find me hanging in the sky. It has come down and the earth has gone up, now unreachable! It's hanging like the sky used to! It is so far, far away. It seems we had taken out so much from the earth that it had become too light to support human beings. All other living beings have moved up…heard later from one of my friends that she was crying while dropping us off.

Now that we are in the sky, we should be happy. Ah no! Far from it. We can’t walk, because we don’t know how to sailwalk, sailsleep, saileat and sailive, we don’t know how to make cloudcloth, cloudhouse, and cloudbed, and have cloudcrop. There is a lot of learning that needs to be done. New words are coming in, but we are still struggling hard to keep upto the tenses without a ground. We can’t sit, sleep, eat without the feeling of falling off. And guess what...we can’t even do that…simply because of lack of support...we need some support for heaven’s sake…either a wall, or a sofa, or a bed, or the kitchen island, or a ground…here there’s nothing to support, and we are perpetually falling off. Who could have ever imagined that living in the sky could be so painful.

However, the most difficult thing we are facing here is that we are unable to make boundaries. Some intelligent people have even made cloudguns. The easily offendables have not forgotten who offended who, but we can't demarcate them out, keep the likes in, and the unlikes out. How to do that without an out is the question! There is no out! The cloudpoles are of no use because they are just not staying in one place, and we learn that under the sky we have more of sky. We have other serious issues to think of, like what to do when there’s thunder, or lightening, or when there are no cloudcrops…but making boundaries seems to be more important for us at the moment.

It is not the law of gravitation, it is the support we are missing here. We look up with frustration. Those green meadows, rocky mountains, tireless rivers, and the blue blue seas and oceans had supported us all through the years to help us make boundaries, dams, walls, and even procreate. The sky for heavens doesn't support.