Sometimes I see the stars

Sometimes I see the stars.
When the shroud of ignorance tears away
In view comes a shimmery display
’til a grey cloud returns to stay.

Sometimes I feel the sparks,
In the heart of my heart,
Cherish it within mind’s dark
Till practicality steps in,
And sponge of love departs.

Sometimes I smell the roses,
Party to the foreplay of tantalizing scents
’til I hit the snag a cruel roadblock imposes,
Pronouncing ‘Quick, move your tinseltoes’!

Love, oh love;
Sometimes I catch a flicker,
The pounding reaches my ear,
Continues till a fallacy raking mind intervenes,
Takes charge and pulls the veil.

Sometimes I see the future,
Fearing no tear,
An undoubting skull I carry,
Or should I say, a common needs quarry –
Of peace everywhere,
Of smiles and cheer,
No sundry faith,
Or scope for treachery.

Abruptly, I snap out.
Awaking from a tranquil reverie,
An hour of paid harmony achieved.
To my inbox I now revert!

I’ve no intention to delude;
When I say ‘Sometimes I see the stars’,
I do.

(January 29, 2008)
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It started as cynical take on an extremely redundant topic of material life. But somehow, one evening while returning home, the velvety blue night sky seemed very uncharacteristically obliging with a fantastic display of a bunch of bright stars. My cell phone always comes handy when such thoughts emanate, especially at a time when I believe that both my hemispheres are hibernating with no sign of coming out of it!

Ithaca Stolen

This is one of my latest poems. I have been deeply pained by many events that are happening around me... Morning newspapers have news filled with negativity. I usually search hard to find the brighter side, but usually end up feeling frustrated. Television soaps have long episodes filled with grim situations. It's almost like happiness has been stolen from life, sapped out from the system. Here's my take on it.

Ithaca Stolen

An insolent mind finds surprises,
In occasional smiles, pleasant faces.
Pierces the heart, chortles of lads.
Guffaws at wretched tales.

Innocence colored, where ignorance once reigned.
Dimensions blurred injuries inflicted.
Meandering is the dark rebirth inside,
Eyes look away from the sunny side.

In, a dim flame flickers.
Eyebrows crease, pupil narrows
A harrowed life forgets fragments
Of my glorious Ithaca stolen.

An Eden of joy, of a life fruitful
Now an abyss of hazy routine, so futile.
Rising from a crestfallen psyché, eyelids strain
Wonder if the foolish reprisal had any gain?

Disowning present state, haggling with a truant mind,
To victory that never was, Ithaca- will I ever find?

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I truly hope the situation improves for the world over. I hope everybody finds their stolen Ithaca.