The faceless women

The seat I sat on felt too hard. The air too suffocating. I was alone. Along with my sorrows. The grueling facts of life haunting me. Confusion following me around. Many stops came and went by but I remained alone. Until a couple got in, somehow I could tell they were a couple even though there was no physical indication as such. The man was tall, with abnormally large hands. They seemed to hang around, flopping about, seeming too useless. And then there was the women, I looked at her, without knowing whether she looked back. Her face hidden. It was strange not knowing whether she was looking at me or not. So I quickly shifted my eyes away from her, and looked out the window at the blur of trees, and people. Delving once again into my deep confusion, not knowing where to go, what to do, how to do. Choices looming at me. But unknowingly my eyes shifted once again towards the couple. Now they were talking, low whispers inaudible to me. They seemed to be arguing. But I realized quickly enough that they weren't arguing, arguing took two people. Here only the man was talking, and she was listening, nodding and shrinking back. And then she said something, something more then a monosyllable. Right away his large hands shot at her wrist and held it, not affectionately. The women froze, and so did the man, they stared at each other, the man with a stern expression, the women I imagined with fear. For a few seconds they stayed so, and then suddenly the man released her hand and they both went back to staring out the window. It suddenly struck me then as to how much I had. So much more then this women. Much more then many others. I had freedom, I had choices. Having confusion from choices is having life. Not having any confusion is having no life. I got off the next stop, with a resolve in my heart, and the faceless women's face always inked into my mind.

Thicket, that of an Amity

Maybe if I had stood a little longer,
I would have understood
I would have realized
They were just words and nothing more.

Sugary, syrupy, charming words.
That had me tripping, before I knew.

And now I have fallen,
headlong into a thicket of dishonesty and deceit
Tangled, wanting to leave.

What I see maybe isn’t.
What I don’t see maybe is.

Confused and lost I feel.
And sad.
Knowing not only have I lost an amity
But also the capability to believe.

Gaining Dreams

For it is in dreams I see, not in life.
Repeadly, filling every night. And all day dreams.
The deep brown eyes
Far off, like a spectacle the future may hold
A something for a lonely heart
Beautiful, beckoning, kind and so very True...

A storm within

A storm like none before.

Tormenting rains and billowing winds

The boat may sink very soon

I hold on to it, knowing I will sink with it

The water washes agaisnt me, soaking me

Inviting me in its embrase

I feel the urge to jump, like those before

The water, so clear and unreal

Beautiful, with many secrets, traps

So inviting.
I want to jump, yet something stops me
Hope.
Like a warning it emerges
From somewhere deep inside
Tugging, squeezing the heart
More real, more beautiful
More inviting then the water

I look up to the horizon
Keeping hope within me
And.
Something emerges from it
Much more real, more beautiful
More inviting then even hope

टेस्टिंग हिन्दी ट्रांस्लितेरेशन

नमस्ते आप सब कैसे है
मेरे ब्लोग में आपका स्वागत है
आप कमेंट्स छोड़ना मत ब्लुल्याई गा
मेरे ब्लोग मैं आने कई लिए बहुत धन्यवाद

Lotus, Brown

Beyond the hills he lives

The man of iron

One without a mask broad shoulders

Eyes, lotus like brown

Voice, vibrant and deep

He walks towards me with his umbrella

Lest I get wet in the rain

And my flowers wilter

I blush behind my hat, a crimson red

And hope for the rain to never stop

Basket of flowers

There I stand, next to the lake
With my basket of flowers
They pass by,
one by one,
greeting me in their pleasant ways
I smile and talk
They laugh and flatter
Acting so well...
But then the sun goes down
And the rain comes along
Everything changes and much is revealed
They run past me, their expressions blank
To the other bearers of flowers
Their fake sincerity washing down their faces
I stand alone, my flowers weltering
waiting?
waiting.
And then one comes along,
With a face so tranquil, an umbrella in hand
With a gentle smile, a firm grip
One true to oneself
One without a mask
And I close my eyes, and feel the warmth of the sun peaking behind the blue clouds