Pens and Pages

Where does the serpentine road lead? To the hill's top and beyond. A tiny hut resides at the end of the road, The road ends where people do not go. There rests in peace my muse and love Within a coffin made of soil and leaves. Sometimes, she sits atop the mountains people do not see, Touching the clouds, she smiles in glee. And when the wars will end and birds will sing. She will turn the serpentine road around, For a new world to lead.

Somewhere far, In another constellation of stars, Maybe you're right And maybe I'm wrong, And maybe I'm not as sick and frail and unsound, And maybe you stay Like the darkest of nights that didn't leave today. A thousand years would go by, Only to let in a thousand more. Maybe we smile There Lying beneath the countless clouds of a faraway sky. Maybe time stands still For it no longer matters Or maybe it gently passes by Like the breeze from a land we visited once. Once, Twice or thrice, maybe we shed tears too On the wounds of distant scars Slowly healing The way rainbows disappear. Maybe we smear dirt On each other's faces Like children play With their eyes closed But hearts open, And maybe we no longer deny That there still exists true love Somewhere far Beneath the same sky we look at tonight, Love that overpowers eternity, Oblivion and destiny. Love, when it is just you and me.

I have seen fresh flowers decay; I have seen them rot and die. So, I know things end And I could just sulk and cry. Tears slosh within me like waves. No, don't look at me in the eye. For even if your eyes touch mine I'll just run away, hide and cry. Things will never be the same Now that you're leaving my side. Who knows if we'll meet again Or if it indeed is our last Goodbye. Goodbye.

You're a poem, And one day, I will write you too; I'll bleed you out On the blank pages of my past, I'll read them aloud Till forever they last. But you're a poem, And you'll not last long, And one day, I'll end you too; You'll move on To another poet; I'll remember you Like the abandoned lines Of a forgotten verse. And may be then we shall meet, On the other side of those pages, On the other side of the blue ink, On the other side of someday.

 My child of grief! Hurt you must have been, Inevitable, crying may seem, But dear, whenever you're sad, Just look at yourself, And ask if it's necessary, Weep, if you must,  If you really really must, But do not forget To ask yourself, "Why not write a poem, instead?"

Prologue “I will make it right this time,” she was determined as she thought to herself. It was a cold and windy night and very few people could be seen on the streets, especially at fifteen past midnight. She had been walking briskly since the last ten minutes. She passed a few teenagers sitting on the pavement near the road feeding on something she assumed to be akin to drugs. She skipped a beat as it made her anticipate the near future even more. Seeing a couple cuddling and kissing each other, made her walk faster eventually to break into a run. It was her last chance and she had to make it right this time. She held the jacket she was wearing, closer to her cold body and ran as fast as she could on the streets of Philadelphia. *** “How about never giving up?” He asked his mother who was sipping on her third cup of coffee. Neha had this habit of drinking a lot of coffee whenever she was worried. Rohit continued to motivate his mother, the way he had been doing from...