A Poem, Or...?

A page, a pen,
Some wayward thoughts...
Two eyes, a stare,
Into the blank white page...
Three sighs, a frown,
Nothing, still nothing...
The white page remains blank.

A sudden gasp,
Some wayward words,
A few commas and ellipses play boundaries—
Taming them.
Sense, or no sense, or non sense!

Fill a page-
Is that all?
How should I know!
I can’t write a poem!

Hues

When the world goes perspective,
Life starts gaining the loss of identity.
White turns black, Red turns pink,
Childhood strokes become confusing.
Doubtful fingers fidget to express their heart.
Frustration creeps in, agitation swells up,
Till the memories desperately claw on conventions.
The fingers, doubtful still, seize the childish crayon...
Superficial canvas brims with hues,
A flight to the known world.

Headlights On The Highway

Shooting stars of technology,
Blinking, twinkling on the long black river of land...
Scuttling past each other,
What a strange race!
The natural night, with all its natural might
Is still too enormous to rule...
Yet Audacity dares...
Yet shooting stars don't stop wishing!

Castle In The Air

Built castles in the air,
The sky was the limit.
Tumbled, crumbled down
Into a jumbled chaos,
A cursed splash into the dark deep infinite blue...
No zeal, no zest to swim through.
A cursed self, cursed by the self.

A speck, then, a burning flint...
Target, to get, a faint shoreline,
Crawling away from the morbid wetness,
Shaking my wings dry.
I begin, for the green.

I look above, I inhale...
I gather bricks of zeal and zest,
My castle awaits...

Farewell... O! Festivity

The sound of dhaak,
The festive rhythm...
Tickles my festive rhythm.
Morning moans, daytime scrolls,
Into an empty void.
The mandap's so quiet, nobody's in sight,
A tearful blurry vision...
The patient waiting for next year begins,
After every night, empty night,
There rises the happy sun.

Loser

“Loser!” they hooted, when they passed me.
Not in words— but eyes, half-smiles n wry looks.
I glance back at them- asking, “Why?”
I lost something, yes, but actually was saved from losing myself.
And yet they call me loser?
Why!!
Losing is not a loss if you’d actually lost a loser...
Who will explain that to them!
“Losers!” I smirk within.

The Ugly Duckling

When people frowned and glared at me...
For being the odd one out,
They thought I was stupid,
Lookin’ down from there prejudiced glasses
Nodding with obvious doubts...
I was made to feel stupid,
I was sent to a corner...
And as I went,
I heard them call me-
“Shyah... Ugly Duckling”.

But that did the magic,
And that made me smile,
‘Cause someday they'll see my wings,
Spread wide with pride!
So as I go to my lonely corner,
For being the odd one out,
I close my eyes and clench my fists
And decide to show them,
What this little duckling is all about!