Saturday 26 May 2012

Puppets

It's my life.
I've got my ways and will do what I will.
-You proclaim, out loud.

You fail to realise it though,
That no matter how much you grow,
You are and will always be,
A puppet, hanging from a bunch of strings.

You walk, you run but not on free will.
Someone's up there pulling your strings.
Someone's up there curbing your thrill.

They decide your life's flow,
Where it should go, how fast how slow.

You submit to them, knowing that often,
The choices you choose will not be chosen.

Thus you move on and on in life,
With strings pulling and knotting your hands.

Tuesday 22 May 2012

Queue

Standing
In
A
Long
Queue,
Bored
Out
Of
My
Skin,
Unsure,
Slowly
Inching
Forward,
Watching
With
Jealousy,
Others
Return
With
Rewards
Offered
Upfront,
But
Still
There's
Hope.

Sunday 13 May 2012

Atop a hill

With each step I was getting closer to heaven,
Ascending the majestic hill to its very peak.

As I reached the hilltop, my mouth went agape,
For such was the beauty that graced my eyes.

The panorama was spread all around, like an immense oil painting.

Of all the artists abound, nature is the best,
I realised without the slightest trace of a doubt.

The green was so profuse, immense, rich,
The greenest of nature I've so far seen.

Dotting the green were intermittent houses,
Instead of blemishing, the beauty they enriched.

Crickets could be heard all around,
Creating a symphony, out of cacophonies.

As the Sun's rays vanished came the biting wind,
Raising goosebumps all along my skin.

Far away from the deep valleys and gorges,
Rose a captivating mist, like clouds on Earth.

It rose, blanketing the hills, turning them,
To the floating mountains of the great Pandora.

I was humbled, dwarfed, impressed, in that one moment,
For I was standing on the gateway to heaven

Monday 7 May 2012

End of a Journey

Sitting by the window, with wind messing my hair,
I breath in the freshness of a wonderful twilight.

Trees swiftly sprint past me,
Blurring my sight with soothing green.
The gentle jostle of the cabin rocks me,
Like the beats and trills of an old melody.

Often the green changes its hue,
To the pitch black roughness of a rocky tunnel.
And so does the heart beat of my cabin,
Changing at once into a deafening roar.

The fields rushing by remain smothered in dew,
While out over the horizon spreads, a crimson hue.

As the first of rays cross my cabin's threshold,
A warmth spreads dispelling the cold.

Slowly my companions begin to stir,
Strangers, though comrades, for one single night.

Soon the Sun rose high, its yet another day,
Time to alight from my home-for-one-day.

Standing at the station, I see it rushing away,
Carting its tenants-for-one-single-day.