Depression

                       

                           Depression     

A numbing spell was cast upon my mind
Which pricks and rots
About this rigid space.
And here,
it stays and grieves to death
A twitch in the eye or
a quiver in my finger
Is now...so deeply felt!

 I can write a better poem,
For, I'm not so dull..you know
But perhaps not now..
For now, has never been a good time...

I rest here in a glass ball,
Like an obscure little doll with a contorted face.
It might snow,
or rain glitters here,
And..I'll turn and spin around
to the strains of music 
Spun by my inert mind.

 It's not an act dear mother,
The spinning wears me off,
I want to break free out of here, 
Rest my face in your lap and reflect the warmth
In your tender,loving eyes...

And you should let me cry,
"Hush..hush..." you should say as you put me to sleep
And in my dreams I'll put together the fragments,
The broken fragments of what I used to address as 'me'...

The laburnum blue

 

               The laburnum blue.

Have you heard of laburnum blue?
Neither have I..
Laburnums blossom in yellow hues
Laburnum blue just sprung in my mind.

It held no meaning
But in my mind it dangled
and swayed.
It wasn't the blossoms...
But the word,
The roots of which carved an ambiguity in my mind.

It must be absurd
I think,
To chase a word 
to a meaningless end..
Or a blur image that dilly dallied
In some remote corner of
my existence..

And now, I write
to relieve my mind.
As within that ecstasy 
it rests..
The more I write 
I'm tied to it,
And it weighs me down to see
I become the laburnum blue,
As it has become me!

     

You're here

         

                          You're here...

       There are all these little things...you see..
The window pane is blue
 And I have blue mornings these days
But then...you're here
With your head rested on my shoulders,
You ask me to think..
think of the bright yellow sun on a pool of honey
This you do..
Before you rise and open the window for me.


The coffee mug burnt my fingers...
it was too hot...you see
And then...you're here
You sit on that chair,
and your feet rest on my table.
You chuckle and pinch my nose
"You have such little fingers"..you tell me.

Evenings can be really quiet..
Spent here...on the balcony
And here, I see you...
Leaning on that railing
With your neck arched backwards
Your face soaks the dimming hues of the sun
You drink it gluttonously...

The dust of the city
rests on my old albums,
And  here...you pick one out..
Beat the dust on your khaki pants,
And kiss pictures of little me.

Only that you aren't here...
I fix my gaze on the chair
Or that railing
And then you seem to appear.

And I..
I patiently wait to read out,
these lines that I'hve penned.
For when you come,
you'll rest your head on my lap..
My fingers I'll knot in your hair
As you look at me vacantly,
"Tell me" you will demand
"Do you ever think of me?"