And Again!!

Ah many days have passed
And the passion slowly dying down
But suddenly a flicker,
Like the old Barbecue flame, still sufficient to let me drown
And again I succumb
To the emotions, which as before seems a coveted crown.

The same lane of ecstasy I tread
The healing wounds still whisper warning tone
Of the sorrowful walk back
Which as always I have to venture alone.
But still the joy is all I care
For it surpasses the necessity to hardly even mourn.

Again I choose none

Better to ignite passions or better to be numb?
A study, case by case, but I want a rule of thumb,
Temptations too exciting, yet I barely succumb;
Finer sensibilities lacking, finally I managed to be dumb.

Tough choice tough roads, but that's really the world
Of mundane stories, and fierce punches, and vicious abuses hurled,
But leaves a choice, to swing into morose, in the odd corner, curled
Or to fight it out of the by-lanes of sorrow -happiness unfurled.  

Again I choose none, the forever confused, dreams undone.
Yes I could still catch the trains on either side, if I choose to run,
Stuck at standing start, choosing a lane, although you blew the gun,
Morons running with ardent fervor, but my race has hardly begun.  

Love Poem

Speaking of my love I am sadly short of words at this moment;

As if the very feeling has drawn me into bewilderment, 

An agony stretched far enough, an emotional predicament. 

Yet the joy, yet the passion, yet the ecstasy eclipses the lament. 

Overshadowed but only for a bit, waiting to make a further dent, 

But welcome you yet, for even you must find a place to vent. 

On this very day I choose, not for the sake of Valentine, 

Not for the gloomy snow or the hope of a better sunshine, 

Surroundings shower love more frequently though I miss the sign, 

But matters not enough to apologize for the mistake of mine. 

I speak in spite of, I speak despite, I speak to despise the world taking a disciplined line. 

I speak for myself, I speak to the loveless eyes of thine. 

I speak in frustration, I speak in anguish, I speak in distress-

The day just happens to coincide with a similar medieval mess.   

I shudder inexplicably as the whole world watches with a frowning face, 

But it's the last chance to file, and here I rest my case 

It's this apathy that leeches on the love, burning it in a furnace 

And only I fight this lonely battle for a reason I still can't express. 

Stuck

Incessant thoughts finding a way to escape, 
The sword is the pen, stuck in mean time through a red tape. 
Too direct, too sharp, at times too rusty 
The deep wound it has the repute of, often too nasty. 


Stuck in cottage with shackles of knowledge,
Temporary bliss but still a man on a ledge 
Nowhere to run without a fight 
The 'sword' is last refuge that seems at sight. 

Sharpened long ago, at times of distant dream
The grip not so tight, neither the speed supreme 
But a fight to survive the sole weapon in the armor 
A passion to fight, the war cry I murmur. 

A strategy at hand is the need of the hour, 
In this battle of might which lacks firepower. 
The thoughts in agony but the words not floweth 
Sunk in his own thoughts the battle wary poet.

Miner

The unfinished breakfast with dumplings of snow 
The winter time is still around but it's spring you know.
Associating to morbidity is not my cup of tea
Even if my desire is frozen, unable to overflow.

Emancipation thoroughly cherished but overused a state
Something too common for me to relate
Excavating through the sorrow is not doubt tiresome
But the sight of joy is always an energizing bait.

Narrowing down the distance with every strike of the shovel
But seems a mirage, a mystery I may never unravel
Yet the angst, the curiosity - which kills but not without a fight 
The detective must lose now, life is hardly a novel.

Yet with the times frozen, as I happen to look upon the past
The hole was smooth I just happened to not squeeze fast
Beneath was probably happiness forever untrodden
Or that's how we see it, joy is what we can never get past.

Rolling Times

You had chided me for being an escapist.
Escapism wasn't my destiny if I may insist,
More a desperation, a flash of indecisiveness,
A moment of hollow, the most I can express.

Running away after myself, to find me back again
Final resort to stop the loss, stop the excruciating pain
Re-energizing Eh? Too cocky a term
Simply a sojourn from the torrid times, just to reaffirm

The monotonicity pervading through the plains
The everlasting seas slowly drifting to the undulating mountains
But the refuge I seek abruptly shrinking space
The sufferers increasing too, leading to another race.

Th rat-race I despise, catching up to me another time
The world forsaken for all those thoughts sublime
These times are nearly cry, wish thoughts could take a rest
But roll on as usual, too sheepish to decide in haste.