~Rantings of a Wandering Mind~

Come back home, poetry, I've been waiting for you. For you, to complete my incomplete verses That keep me awake till the dawn. Come back home,  For the monsoons are here again, With the grey skies and the heavy clouds... Drenching me with an incoherent longing As I sit all alone. Watching the raindrops creating patterns on my window panes, My heart longs to create verses, once again, With those familiar epithets, that have long left me... Come back home, poetry, For I long to be loved, by Love, And for a beloved, whom I crave to behold... To love... To touch... Come back home, for I have letters to write and stories to tell Of dreams left broken and promises unkept... Of the scars that still bleed, and words left unsaid.... Come home, for my fingers crave to be carressed by you. My soul craves to be healed by your touch, And my heart craves to never let you go... Come home, poetry, for I feel so lost... Come back, and bring me home. Take me back to myself,  Where I had always ...

Running through the maze of Life Relentlessly chasing mirages Entangled, I choked, in silence Like a spider caught in its own web.  My exhausted soul craved to rest Somewhere, beside the boulevards of broken dreams. Where the oaks still played with the autumn breeze And dandelions whispered unspoken promises, Where the mosses were still green with life And the birds created their own songs... Lost, as I was, in the lanes of my own life My heart craved to find back The missing pieces of myself, Long lost....long forgotten.... The parts of my soul that I had long hidden, Behind all the smiles And all the scars. The 'myself' that I was,  That I longed to meet again After all the wars... The tears... The blood... My heart longed again, to be a poem, Amidst the cacophony and chaos That sucks me from within. I longed to be my favourite song Again....after all these days. Weary of wearing my wounds with pride, My heart craved to rest, if only for a while, Within the depths of myself,...

I had a garden, where little flowers bloomed. Where the breeze gently played with the blades of the grasses And butterflies danced, like there was no tomorrow. I had a garden, small, but mine. Where the dew drops glistened in the first light of the dawn, As the wild flowers woke up to the songs of the birds. I had a garden, the one of my dreams, That knew how the moon called me by my name And how the summer zephyr messed with my hair, Making me giggle, like a carefree teenager, Blissfully unaware of the dark clouds,  c onspiring at the horizon.  And then came the storm, with a thundering roar The darkness engulfing every bit of light that I had held on to. The birds left, as their nests gave away... And the butterflies shuddered in pain and fear. The flowers held on to their petals for one last time,  And the beautiful green boughs tried to be brave Before losing themselves forever. And my garden was no longer my dreamland It was wrecked and shattered... Like the ruins th...

What else, do I look for, O Krishna, Now, that I have You within my heart. Like the naughty little thief, that You are... You tiptoed Your way into my life, Stealing away my heart When I was least aware. Too busy to care, Too immersed in my worldly affairs, I could never know... I could never tell...  And then, You smiled at me, Like the moon smiles at the exhausted night, Healing every crack and crevice of my soul That I had hidden carefully from myself. Your eyes were the monsoon clouds, to my parched soul Thirsty... Tired... Craving to be caressed... Drenching me with Your love. Flooding me in Your light, You took away all the darkness that I had held on to. Scaring my inner demons to their salvation, You made Your place within parts of me,  Where I had dared not even peek.  Like the naughty little thief that You are, You stole away whatever I had Sometimes, with that smile... Sometimes, with those eyes... Sometimes, with those antics, that only You manage to come up w...

  Sneha let out a huge yawn, as she twisted in her bed, snoozing her alarm for the n th time in a row. Pulling her blanket over her face she smartly evaded the demure winter sun rays, that had peeked into her room through the glass window panes, in a vain attempt to wake her up. Five minutes passed in a nano second, and her alarm once again tired itself out by shouting near her ears. How much she wished that she could throw it outside her window for good, but the fact that it was her dearly loved five year old Samsung A70s, that she had planned to replace only after her final exams, stopped her somehow. Sitting on the bed that was too cozy to leave, she rubbed her eyes, offering a short morning prayer, wondering, if God would forgive her laziness. She loved Sundays, but today was different….she had a night shift, which meant, she had only half a day to herself to clean her room, wash her clothes, arrange her wardrobe, have a proper headwash, finish her scheduled chapters and do ...

Last autumn seemed different, With you being here to hold my hands As we would walk down the lanes and alleys, Scattered with ochre leaves And the smell of dried woods. The winds would whisper tales of love, Woven by the dance of butterflies over the dewy tulip blossoms, In the land, where they came from. And the leaves would quiver in ecstasy. With new desires cruising in their old veins, They would dream of setting sail into the far off lands... Unfamiliar. Unchartered. From where there would be no return.  The last autumn was different, With you and your smile, full of warmth Just like the afternoon sun, melting into the foggy horizon. And I would gaze into your eyes, Dark as the night sky... Where the stars ink their own poetry In pristine light of the moon. Where the clouds create psychedelic dreams Of Love, passion and something more..... Your lips would create sonnets for me, Whispering them, like sweet nothings... Adorning my soul with your epithets. And like the wildflower...