Out of love - 109!

Amidst beating the blues and soaking the green,
I became yellow, as another day passed.
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Bit by bit piece by piece,
I picked up the parts of my shattered self,
to create a masterpiece.
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Play your poetry on a piano,
To witness how magic completes miracle.
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Yin and Yang,
Inside and outside
Soul and body
Mess and clarity
Dream and action
All of this in one you,
Make for a whole
That your fears stole
From the coward in between.
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Let the waves take you,
To a shore unknown.
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The wreath on my dreams should be made of fresh exquisite flowers,
For my dreams have bled enough,
And now, in their death they deserve softness, freshness and care.
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But how much can you contain?, they asked.
An entire universe, she replied.
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What do you know about her?
Who are you to tell her?
Have you seen her scars?
Has she shared her parts with you?
No!
She’s, what she is,
You are what you are
Admire her and leave.
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Miracles don’t happen everyday, so you’ve to interfere once in a while to keep it going.
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But, we’re all mortals,
And will be ashes in some moments and minutes,
So, there must always be a part of us for the dragons to see.

कुछ अल्फ़ाज़ बस यूँ ही-34!

आदत तो हमारी ख़राब है,
जो उनसे रोज़ अपनी ज़िल्लत,
कराए बिना हमें चैन नहीं पड़ता
——————
अजब खेल है उनका,
हमें रत्ती भर तवज्जो ना देते हैं,
और हमसे पूरी दुनिया माँग लेते हैं.

अजब हैं हम,
सब न्योछावर कर भी,
मूँह ना खुलते हैं,
उनकी इस ज़िल्लत,
के बावजूद.
——————
उम्मीद के धागे पिरोह कर वो एक ख़्वाब बुनता है,
हर छोटी-बड़ी हार को इन्हीं चादरों के कोने में छोड़ देता है,
आसान नहीं है पर फिर भी वो रोज़ कोशिश करता है,
कभी सोचता है,
कभी सोचता है कि आख़िर क्यूँ सोचता है,
फिर सब छोड़, अपने और उस चादर के बीच किसी को नहीं आने देता.

अब अगर ये प्रेम नहीं,
तो वो कभी प्रेमी बन नहीं सकता,
अगर ये प्रेम है,
तो उस जैसा प्रेमी किसी को मिल नहीं सकता.

•धागे•
——————
अब वक़्त का क्या है,
रोज़ गुजर जाता है,
जैसे मैं तुम्हारी याद में खर्च
होती चली जाती हूँ.

अब कहाँ इल्म रह गया हमें,
अच्छे और बुरे वक़्त का,
अब तो बस सब गुजर ही जाता है।
——————
सिर्फ़ लहू बहाने भर की बात होती,
तो बात ही क्या थी,
इस जंग में तो उम्मीद और
सपनों की बली चढ़ गयी.
——————
समझ तो ये नहीं आता,
की बर्दाश्त आख़िर क्या नहीं होता,
तुम्हारा ना होना
या तुम्हारी याद का होना.
——————
हमारी यादें भी आधे ग्लास पानी
की तरह ही हैं,
जिंदा रखने के लिए काफ़ी है,
जीने के लिए शायद कम पड़े
——————
तुम्हारी मचायी हलचल पर तो मैं महाकाव्य रच दूँ
पर ये जो तुम्हारी यादें मेरे लफ़्ज़ खा जाती हैं,
उसका क्या करूँ?
——————
हुआ कुछ नहीं,
बस आज उनसे,

उन्ही की ज़ुबान
में दो लफ़्ज़ क्या कहे,
उनके तो होश ही उड़ गए.

अरे करे कोई खबर उन्हें,
की उनके इश्क़ में डूबे ना होते
तो इस अंदाज़-ऐ-बयाँ को तो छोड़िए
उन तक तो पलट कर ना देखते
——————
उन्हें जिन्हें हमारे होने से फ़र्क़ ना पड़ा
उन्हें हमारे ना होने का क्या इल्म भर भी होगा?
ज़िंदा तो उनके आने के पहले भी थे ही,
लाज़मी है कि उनके जाने पर हम मारेंगे तो नहीं ही
बस उनका ये झूठ की वो,
प्यार करते थे, फ़िक्र थी उन्हें हमारी
शायद कुछ वक़्त तक और परेशान करे.

Out of love - 108!

Who are you to keep her warm?,
Don’t you know she contains fire?
The one which will keep and not destroy you and yours.
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She doesn’t crave and dream of castles, she longs for a home.
The wreath on my dreams should be made of fresh exquisite flowers,
For my dreams have bled enough,
And now, in their death they deserve softness, freshness and care.
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She has no option but to be as fierce and angry as a lion,
what else can handle the fire in her?
The one which burns but doesn’t leave ashes.
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Just put one rose on my grave,
I’ll know you came,
to see me off
one last time.
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How many masks do you wear,
How many faces are you in despair,
To pull that bright smile and glowing eyes?
-------------
How many patterns are you?
Are you even, you?
-------------
Scribbled through the days,
Good and bad, alike
Didn’t know something got created,
In this absurd hunt for respite.
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Even though you love marble,
you would always prefer gold.

That’s what us the lovers,
of moon and desirers of the sun deal with! 

You see shine more than often defeats the glow.
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When I come back wrapped in a flag,
Put a wreath made of flowers from our garden on my coffin,
I must feel home, one last time.
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It’s okay honey,
even I can’t handle my pieces;
You are anyway too new to my misery.

Out of love - 107!

You could die
More than a hundred times
Each day, just for that
But my love when have
The likes of them cared
For our breath or death?
———————
How deep is the red,
How shallow is your pink,
How confused is your heart
As it pulls its strings.
————————-
One day when fresh air,
clean water and a warm hug wrap the tragic;
it’ll all turn into magic.
———————
Sometimes, it’s not labour of love,
It’s just unacknowledged labour,
But isn’t it the tendency of any form of labour,
To tire, tear and eventually heal and love?
————————-
I want to call myself a poet
If not a poet, then at least a wannabe poet
But then each time I see the sun
Lose itself to the sea
And turn it all into gold
I don’t know how I feel
What I feel
What metaphor would describe its feel
But, I know that it is poetry,
Exactly the kind which
Rumi, Dickson and Ghalib
Have tried to write about
It is that gold we seek & crave
The gold which feels like,
Love, peace, solace, self.
—————-
But my love,
How do I tell you,
I don’t want a lot from you
I just want more of you.
—————-
But waiting too is a form of catharsis,
Keeping a dead hope alive,
Waiting for ashes to ignite,
Dream, and magic alike.
——————
But the biggest question is
How did I surrender my all,
To your none?
—————-
There is lightening,
When the clouds hurt,
The time when their heart rips apart,
But have you seen the sky,
Get perturbed by these,
Occasional heartbreaks?
——————-
Tonight, I must bleed
So that it does not clot
And kill my being.

Tonight, I must bleed
To let it all out,
For all of it to leave.

Tonight, I must bleed
So that I don't wake up
To our stale memories.

Tonight, I must bleed,
To heal,
To set all of it free.

Out of love - 106!

And then I put pieces of my heart together....
to begin the cremation of your memories.
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If I could,
I would teach you the complex art of being simple,
she said to her well wishers.
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The answer, healing, solution,
being lies between
the blue, green and brown.
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Let my fears make love to your vulnerabilities,
Allow your desires to play with mine,
Together we shall create what they have been craving for.
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What do you know about her?
Who are you to tell her?
Have you seen her scars?
Has she shared her parts with you?

No!

She’s, what she is,
You are what you are
Admire her and leave.
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She lived in a world that reeked of sadness,
Yet she found her calm & joy,
In the flowers that lay
Breeze that kissed
Clouds that reminded her of ease.
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When it is all dark,
And you can barely see
The minutest ray of hope,
Remember,
The mildest of flowers too
Stay, stand, bloom till the end
Who are you to give up?
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Have you ever counted how many pixels make a photograph?
Have you ever cared to know the little things the nature does to care for you?
Have you ever done little things for someone which have made you sleep better at night?
Isn’t it all about the little things, that make or break everything?
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But how much can you contain?, they asked.
The entire universe, she replied.
------------
Pull out those strands of dreams from the cassette in your head,
they are just messing it up there.
PULL OUT,
get rid,
go to sleep.