Thunderbirds

stashed inside are a million men
a million songs...stories and ends
memories..all gasping for air
stifling inside, crumpled in a corner
inside the trunk, which has lost its key
the ghosts are rattling

haunting for attention
they now command the crossroads
appearing unexpectedly
excruciatingly they gaze
upon all that is "now" and
all that is soon to be...

I lull myself to sleep
swimming in tears,wet with dismay
they beg to forget, to be forgotten
the death of a memory..

i wish for them to be revived
but thunderbirds dont sing that song anymore..

classroom

truly a sight..

fists cuddled in fight..
the corner occupied..
others.. go on walkin by
its the lunchtime

a few gather in the hall
exchanging tidbits
from their lunchboxes and their lives
giggling in delight

someone else is sobbing away
the cruelty of life
comforting words are being said..
afterall there is another test
coming up after the lunchtime..

notebooks, chalks, benches..
are being arranged
everyone is in their place
blackboard has been cleaned

and then the bell rings...

Figuratively speaking

Honest eyes stare back
tears sliding down the cheeks

But as my glance rests on the smile
it takes me completely by surprise..

Tragedy seems shattered
Comedy finds its mark
Reality demurely walks in
more endearing than all the princely fantasies around

For it might be that
the knife was supposed to kill her
But he was holding it
upside down

Ludicrous

A mundane day
inching along..
cloaked in lethargy
wearing it as a gown

slipping on its endlesss threads
falling on our face
in front of a crowd
holding on to it.. like a clown

no..it means more to me
i cannot give it away
its what i am ..u see
(using it a shield)

Its true ..u know
I cant find myself inside nowadays
But its a lovely cloak..
keeps me ... away

Mild Hysteria

alone on a sidewalk
her legs are criss-crossed
sitting down on the pavement
her vacant eyes stare

with colours of magic all around her
in her secret chamber she waits
head bowed low, as if in prayer
hands clasped tight around her waist

the mirror is cracking
all seems fake, unreal
like a marching army
the crowd gathers around her

curiosity..curiosity...
a burning question all around
they can sense it too now
the moment is approaching

as she looks around
her last sight is a blur
the hunger gets to her
before the poison....

Revive from the reverie!

Liberate a thought
and let it feed on the gospels
stoically it will grow
into its own form
like a fire
consumed with passionate energy
bringing to ashes
all the cobwebs, the dry cackling sound
of the burning wood
all is charred, blackened with soot
glowing embers still remain
to rekindle, to keep alive
the rising smoke
raises the alarm

setting the stage
for a revolution!

Valentine's Day

Well..i thought i could write a poem on this romantic eve...
but i guess.. sylvia plath just says it all in this poem..
its titled
MAD girl's love song

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"