Sunday, February 6, 2011

Murals in the Dark

The waves rocked gently stroking the
softness of the pebbles that drowned
when I threw them in.
There comes the slow breeze, that plays
for a while, talks to your hair and betrays them soon.
There is havoc.
I pull the strands back, kissing the traitor goodbye
it's the alluring man as it turns back,
flashes his delicious smile, salutes a mock and mouths,
"I'll return soon."
But I cannot hear a thing.

The dark surroundings wear an impenetrable cape
pulling me inside them, it's arms of sleep
welcoming the guest, I push it back,
It's not time yet.
The hidden moon smiles my decision.
So the clouds decided to punish again, and there!
Again he's hidden, the dark has had it's revenge.
I stop my breath, and feel my lungs bursting out their seams,
screaming those- rebels- shouting their disapproval.
But I cannot hear a thing in the world.

My back has started to ache, the lids hiding my iris
the pen grows thin under the hold of my slender claws,
they all protest, but I wait to eavesdrop on the song of the night.
The trees are swaying, as they had said they would,
the leaves are bristling, as they had warned,
But I cannot hear a thing.

The blue night suddenly turns colorless
in the realms of my thoughts,
the complaints of my unfathomable discourses
from all around the world,
the world of a sole being.
It draws me in, tells me no lies,
I'm back to my roots, the musings of my insides.

The irony is, I remember my father saying
Don't trust the silent night my son,
because you can't hear a thing.


Vanita said...


Charu said...

Each one of your poems lately has been absolutely wonderful. And so is this one. Beautiful, just beautiful...