PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When I look up in the sky

And I see your spirit soar

Mindful that I'm stuck down here

Thinking of before

I pray I cross your mind

As you sail among the clouds

And that you'll visit me

The next time you come around

I loved you with my all

But only pulled you down

I should've known my heart

Would keep you anchored on the ground

I've let you go, my dear

As you fly into the sky

I hope your fading thoughts of me

Will pass you by-and-by

O Lover,

how can you run

past the rhymes that slip through the creases

in your palms only to

etch them into my memory?

Yesterday

time sank fangs into my ankle, left tattoos

like heartbreak. You touched my face

and I stepped back,

out of reach.

I took her hand

and poured gold in her veins.

There was nothing more I could do.

She let the glass fall with a flick of her wrist,
condensing the air to an acrid twitch
and rendering my vision to pinpoints as
I watch the reflection of her eyes careen to earth.
Will you reach your hand up to my cheek
and read the wounds you stashed inside my corneas?
Or will you stare at the echoes at our feet
until my hand reaches for yours
across this shattered display of moments?

Perhaps it’s because I miss you, the real you

or the thought of you.

It’s not like I know the difference.

You continue to fight the system,
I know that you miss him,
I don't know why,
You refuse to let go,

Of the dream that faded away,
You continue to cause pain,
When it can go away,
No matter how hard,
You scream at the sky,
He ain't ever comming back,
He died for his cause,
What he believed,
Just because you won't agree,
Won't cause him to be beamed back,
From the past battles he fought,
And the one he did return,
But in a box and uniform,
To his last place,
Where he shall forever stand guard,
Oneday he will stand guard next to you,

 When I was a child

I remember you carrying me in your arms

the grey pseudo membrane covers my pharynx

making it difficult to breathe

Diphtheria was common in those days

You were turned away

from the footsteps of Holy family hospital

I saw despair

Flow down your cheeks

Where to now

You murmured

As I slipped into unconsciousness 

The haveli in Shimla

Amidst blue pines

You, your young family

My father, his brothers and sisters

Settled, content and happy

Forest was your business

Himalayan cedar, silver fir, white oak

Your touch turned them to gold

You took to the road in ‘47

Independence from British Raj and idolaters

carnage ensued

innocents, vulnerable

those who had no say, paid

The Punjabi sky above endured,

said no word but it poured

you spoke little about exodus of your own choice

and loss of everything

the hardship years, the eldest his fits of psychosis

chained, there was no PTSD in those days

people took things in their stride

his young siblings, their silent cries of pain

for the valley, the green trees

the wind that rustled between

the paths that led to nowhere

your hands never spoke of the stories

but you rebuilt the nest

and one by one they flew

some near

others to faraway lands

I want to know more about you grandpa

I am not small anymore but your legacy is so much bigger

One thing I am certain

giving up was never in our blood