On The Silhouette's Loss...

It is so beautiful to imagine,IF...
But then,there is life next door...
You can't always escape it....
IF is just fantasy,
one can't live in it forever....
You can dream,
but you can't make dreams your master,
as rightly said by some old master...
You can love,
but you can't make love your subject...
You can believe in past's presence,
but you can't deny
the presence of something more near...
None is away,
as is proclaimed by nature,
for,forever those who love dwell inside,
and such few can be seen when you shut out the reality...
Shutting the conception of absence,
evokes the presence,which was but a part of you...
This here,within the verses,
might be her,
whom you sought,
whom you miss...
Who might as well be in me?
Helping you hear her...
Yes,my friend,do not see in this,
words which spoken are, through my tongue,
but know through this,
it is her soul,which yearns for you to smile...
For else,it would not be possible,
for me to write here...
Maybe,I take liberty,
aye,it has been my perennial fault,
but here,it means something...
Embrace life, as one who mourns
the departed for far too long,
keeps them from peace...
Peace,must they have...
And for that,you must allow them to move ahead...
Do not stagnate,and do not allow those who passed
to mourn those who haven't
and not let them stagnate either,
for when it shall be time,
you shall meet again...
Now,let her sleep,
and you smile, as you know,
but after a long working day called life,
in the night everyone just
sleeps in their loved one's embrace...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

So The World Sleeps...

And so the world sleeps...
Cradled in the arms of the silent night,
in these hours of mute submersion,
so the world sleeps...

Vacant thoughts,
like the desolate roads in the nocturnal hours...
A thought,barking incoherence,
like that stray dog,
while chilly wind flows,
reminiscent of the heated day...
And while walking along,
in fear and alert dread,
me perceives,
so the world sleeps...

World is asleep,
yes, in this darkness,
blankets engulfing the body,
and thoughts ceasing to take a meaning,
just dreams, incoherent to sane comprehension,
just visions of some things,which we rarely see..
And thats how, I see,
in this empty thoughtless night,
thats how I see,
in this wakeful sleeping sight...

Thats how I see,
with a deep,yet incomprehensible fright,
thats how,me thinks,
the world sleeps...

Devoid of any presence,
and immersed in one's own trepidations,
subdued wants and desires,
dreamt on, in these hours,
and I think, after all,
this is the way...
This is the only way...

So,the world sleeps...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

History has taken it away...

History has taken away,
the stories are all thats left,
myriads of thoughts,
Myrmids all rot...

Azure, the winds blow,
like mighty Zephyr,and salmons
drifting down those streams...

History has sung its song...
Roots of nature, further down a few furlongs...
Stories, griots' laments,
and the long gone saga,
all that remain imprinted strong...

History has taken it away,
the chance to sing a new song...
With its smokes and wars,
with its lust and ambition,
sinewed in its tales,too long...

History bereaves,
nay,it but sings of us
bereaving the loss...

All that we could, we didn't,
all that we can, we aren't,
all that we might, we won't...

And yes, we are right,
History has taken it away,
history is long gone,
rolling dust remains,
leftovers of the strange tales,
inhuman yet, of us, selfish and oblong...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

The corner bench thoughts...

In the corners of mind,
when I ponder, wondering
what is it that I am missing...
Corner bench, aloneness,
and some painful seconds,
when others, all else are smiles,
and laughter...
I, in my corner,
hunched up with songs and
a vacant tearful mind..
There is a pigeon,
sitting there perched up,
a tail wing up, and a rich fluorescent hue...
The turning head,
looking this direction and then that...
Everyone, now, is walking away,
gotten up, with smiles and happy thoughts...
And my sole companion has taken flight,
flown away, as so rightly described or
talked of,unique in a way called freedom and bliss,
and the flight, away, into the limitless skies..
I sit there still,
in the corner bench, alone,
and painful seconds pass with a sigh,
still, nothing really happens...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

'What else,but poetry?'

I sit down, my fingers typing away again...
This time around,I wish I can create more than poetry...
Something more,
something different,
something that can say far more of the things I talk of than what my verses have done so far...
I know my thoughts...
For my thoughts are me...
I know my thoughts,
I know those colours,
I know those smiles
and I know those curves which are made into calligraphic symbols of truth....
Yes,I know all that I have made...
I know that I have done so far what poetry has helped me do,
for it has been my voice,
voice I have long lost in my real world...
But again, I venture,
I wonder, I ask...
What was my real me,
what is my real me?
What else, I wonder, as words are flowing away,
I wonder what else have I got to do?
How different should I be,to be me?
For others to reach me...
I want to do something different..
Yes,enough,yes,so long for the soul searching verses...
Yes,it is satiating,what verses have sung,
now its time to venture into something beyond poetry...
Yes,I wish to do something more,something different...
So,I set myself to muse on all the beauty,from which I can inspire myself to script something which is beyond poetry...
I notice the blades of grass,after rain,as if the hair of the maiden called Earth,fresh out of a pond of glistening water,bathed and cleansed of mirth...
dew on the blades making little planets of themselves...
I see, I see through the colours on the canvas,
through the tunes of the flutes,
through the keys of pianoforte,
through the strings of violins and guitars...
I see the sculptures,
I see the mountains...
I listen to the voice, and the nature's own breeze...
I listen to it,
I watch that,
I wonder at last...
Aye,I wonder at last,
when there is my muse,
creeping through the shadows of the canopy,
into the dell where moonlight of thoughts is shining,
in those vacant lit spaces of the mind
my muse enters,
smiles down and says,
'what else,but poetry?'

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju