The Free Verse about Love Lost and Present

As I sit agitated on my  sofa,

I see my legs spread lugubriously on the table

and extending until my feet are invisible and

my hands rest on the keyboard…

hopelessly wishing, wishing hopelessly-my mind

wistfully writing, writing wistfully-my fingers

the following –

My eyes wishing to see a familiar scene…

My legs wishing to experience the familiar skin

My nose wishing to smell the familiar fragrance

My hands wishing to embrace the familiar figure

My mind wishing to indulge in the familiar mindwalk

My lips yearning to savour the familiar lips

My fingers wanting to engage with the familiar fingers

My being longing to behold the familiar once more…for one last time…perhaps

before I take the familiar and go

in to the deep recesses of my memory and heart

dig the depths never digged in them

so as to bury the familiar much deeper than

from where the love for the familiar takes birth.

As I begin to dig…from the surface…

I wonder how long before I reach the spot from where

the love for the familiar springs up….

I wonder whether in digging deeper to bury

the love for the familiar…

do I really bury it or make it rise from much deeper?

To bury the love should I bring it on surface expecting it to

be lost in daily rituals of life, with touch, smell, taste of strangers,

that it’d be oxidised and lost into the atmosphere?

Or will it light up more passionately

now that it is on surface and

easy access serving as oxygen to the fire?

Or should I continue to dig much deeper expecting it to be

lost under layers of new memories of

new experiences, new fragrances, and new touch?

But will these new fragrances, new experiences and new touch

be able to reach that depth…

where the love for the familiar stays safe, irreplaceable,

and afresh ?

Because these new memories, new experiences and new touch

can never, as I know, pierce the heart

to the depths where they can replace

the love for the familiar…

In the end, I decide to eschew the questions

and be lost in the memories

without worrying about the burying…

And I have a sudden revelation that whether I bury it deeper, or bring it to surface

I will never be able to purge the love for the familiar..

If I happen to purge the love for the familiar

It won’t renew me, it will completely take me

out of me and leave me empty…

I am now bringing my legs

back from the infinity and putting

some life in them…to walk among the ruins…

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A Wish

If only I could just rehearse that Saturday night in advance or repeat it so it overwrites the first one, I would have been a happier man. That Saturday night like other Saturday nights arrived without any script. I couldn’t improvise…I said words that I don’t usually say…I acted the way I don’t usually act…full of myself..seeing me and only me…and nothing beyond me. I was dancing before my eyes…with limited props and unlimited myself. I was all over before my eyes. Now, I am left with words and acts that I cannot take back…no matter how badly I want to. I am left with a mountain of remorse seeking rain of love…I am left with a bridge undone…a bridge to the land of happiness, bliss and best kisses.

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Down in the Dumps

What do we do when we embarrass ourselves and embarrass the one we love? Not just any run-of-the-mill love, but THE love. Can love not sustain one such embarrassment? Can love not forgive? I am in low spirits these days.

What do we do when we purposefully hurt the one we love? Despite knowing the truth, we tell them a blatant lie just to hurt them while knowing all the while that they will be hurt. Can love not sustain one such moment of reprehensible selfishness? Can love not forgive this attempt of ours to shine under the darkness of our inflated ego?

I am guilty of both of the above. I am remorseful. I have no way to prove that I am sincerely sorry for my behaviour. I have begin to wonder whether it has all ended forever. The horrors are finally upon me, since I had started becoming hopeful and I was doing everything I could – to get my charm back in my life in the way the charm wants, and then one moment of rashness, carelessness and selfishness has probably ruined the hopes beyond repair. I repeatedly check my letters that I have sent to see whether I have said anything wrong in them.

As I gradually feel that this may be the end of a bond that I have come to feel for so strongly, my heart has sunk much deeper. I see more emptiness in the emptiness that I have so frequently written about. If my love cannot withstand such a low moment in my life, I don’t know whether I should trust my own love. May be I didn’t love enough or truly enough to earn such redeeming points. Of course, it shouldn’t go unpunished, but I hope punishment is not this dreadful.

They say that in order for someone to forgive us, we must first forgive ourselves, but what if all hopes are dashed and there is no chance for redeeming myself, then I will not forgive myself for that whole of my remaining life. It will be like a eternal thorn in the heel of the foot, only stuck deeply across Calcaneus so that it cannot be pulled out.

I have realised that no fall is greater than fall in the eyes of the person we love. I need one chance to put it all right. I hope my life doesn’t disappoint me.

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Haiku 2 – Memories of Love

Impressions of The Love on heart:

so divergent from laws of nature

built in moments, indestructible for ages.

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As The Wee Hours Depart


wistfully whisper while the western wind blows


dimly lit reflecting the lugubrious mood that flows


beginning to chirp as my body to the balcony creep


appear vacant as the lives in them still asleep


murmuring its last words as its end nears

North Star

withdrawing itself from gaze as Day sneers


walking his dog in the shiny morning street


still unseen while its light on earth starts to beat


begins to throb as wee hours leave


beats while from dagger of love it continues to cleave


resting on the rails listening to Heart rattled with fear


rheumy and stare at from where they feel sun will appear

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