Silence - the purest music

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Silence, the purest music
The richest note
played in harmony
by the universe

the deepest truths
embedded in sweet rhymes
for the astute listener
devoid of daily sounds

autumn face

Image Coutesy: The Axe Victim

autumn leaves float in the air
ruffles the flock of auburn hair
dusty wind that blows again
to scratch and talk to the window pane
the smell of yesterday's ale
drowsy face in morning, pale
my morning view through half open eyes
with a smile i close my eyes.

silence of the highway

Image Coutesy: srdjanhorvat

have you listened
to the silence of the highway at night
with murmurs of distant vehicles
and lights dimming from your sight

have to listened to the words
that is whispered to your ears
while you have been left awake
by the squeaking of your bus tyres

they said to me on countless silent nights
they said to me about the people who have traveled that way
that they were in a hurry to beat the friend on the next lane
and they were in a hurry to make up for lost miles
and carry a lot of frowns to rush to their graves
and missed out on a lot of smiles
which were coming their way

so slow down my child, slow down
the lanes are all the same for you and everyone
there is no race here and no price for the winner
this is a highway and travel not, carrying lot of baggage
slow down my child, for there is lot of time
to smell the fragrance of the morning air
and listen to the whispers of the silent highway

a long journey

Image courtesy: Railway Track in Sepia, originally uploaded by Gatorhank.



a long journey
with no plans
no routes and no reserved seats
and finally to no destination

a window to the past

Image Courtesy: whitenoiselounge.com

is that my story,
running backwards ?
with the scenes and the dialogues...
and all monologues, rewind in time...

will i go back in time to reach the space
that dreaded moment
where i walked out in my rage
to never see the face again
except in infinite morbid dreams
the shady painting and crumbled bread
and flakes of red chilly and fluorescent light

not to the lonely days of J.krishnamurthy
neither the dark stations of the central line
not the silent waves of arabian sea
beating the shores of colaba beach
is that moment ever in my reach ?

from dead to undead

scared of decay and worms
phil rose from the dead
shook away the dirt
and penned words from his head...

phil died

Image Courtesy: Gravestones by Sean Duggan

phil died of heamorrage
he had a broken heart
he did not live till old age
at ripe health did he depart