Blazing hearts

A scorching day, a barren land,
they pined together, for a sprinkle tad.

A drop of life, with a sound so sweet,
a parched earth, it came to greet.

The dusted ground, trembled at its embrace,
parted lovers, coming face to face.

They held each other, so hard - they gasped,
their thirst forgotten, in the other's clasp.

Love, lust - a raging fire abound,
heavens thundered as they soaked the ground.

Oh all day long, an all night song,
like ravaging beasts - no right no wrong.

The scent of their love now filled the air,
as blazing hearts quelled all despair.

                                               Nadeem...

An Old Friend

A bleeding heart, silent in its stream

Meanders away from its distant dream

A gash awakens, a wound that had healed,

The tale behind its scar revealed

Like an old friend, it holds my hand,

And leads me back to a familiar land

My lungs are filled with a scent from my past,

Strokes of blue, on a canvas vast

I know this place, I know this hue,

The still of the wind, in the silent view

Like an old friend, it holds my hand,

A familiar pain, that I can't withstand.

                                                     Nadeem...

The Poet

Somewhere in the material world,
I lost the man, I knew, I loved,
the man that was me, that I had become.

I lost the innocence and the look in those eyes,
I lost the faith, the determination,
I lost the focus, the elixir that he was
to all my pain,my inspiration.

When people laughed and mocked at him,
he smiled and knew they would repent,
never kept a grudge, no venom, no hate,
He had the heart and a simple fate.

Few lines believed what he was all about,
few lines that danced and smiled like him,
few lines of a poem that rhymed like him.

I miss that man, that man that was me,
and so last night I must have cried,
when I realised, the wind in my sail,
that lovable poet, that was me had died.
Nadeem....

Go on, go on...

The sea was rough, and the tide was high,

the shore seemed far, the end seemed nigh,

The boat of hope was all but sunk,

a gasping life, on the sea, was flung.

A raging storm was here to stay,

it roared and lit, a canvas grey

Despair, doom and mercy none,

the tide had turned, with nowhere to run.

I looked up at the skies, in search of him,

all hope was lost, my heart was grim.

I heard a voice, calling out to me,

"Go on...go on..., stand-up to the sea".

"No battle is bigger, than the grit of thee,

Go on...go on..., stand-up to the sea".

"Smile back at the storm, stand up on your feet

Stare into its eyes and watch it retreat".

"You have all it takes, to swim through the night,

till the sea is calm and you have trumped its might".

I paddled through the monstrous sea,

and the fear and fright, that it once brought to me.

With the wind in my back and the shore in my sight,

I was swimming through the darkness and towards the light.

When my wrinkled hands, touched the sandy shore,

I let out a scream, unable to hold it no more.

As I lay in the sand, with my arms spread wide,

my body trembling, tears rolling down the side.

I heard a voice calling out to me,

"No battle is bigger, than the grit of thee"

Nadeem....

Coffee with...

After a grueling week...week after week, the mind more than the body gives in. It says enough...it cries out for some peace, as if raising its arm in the air asking for me to stop. The mental gymnastics of solving analytical problems and mystical people take its toll, not that the I succeed in it all. The Friday evening seems like a gentle zephyr blowing at the end of a scorching day...calming nerves, cooling the mind as I join my hands in a T shape signalling the break! I have added a new ritual to my weekends these days...that of having coffee with that one person I have longed to be with for many years now...the person who has been lost somewhere in material things and has forgotten the simple joys of life...coffee with myself...It gives me a time to reflect back on some wonderful years and some wonderful people who were part of it. The long walks at the beach at dusk, the sight of the sun going down like a biscuit in a cup of tea...the wind, the joy of friends and some lonely wanders...it all comes back to me. My mind wanders into roads I left behind and now visit ever so seldom. It wanders to those times when I was a simple man, with simple needs and a fickle heart! All that has changed...the material life...the bing of things and somewhere I have lost myself...only to find him for some moments...in those weekend coffee breaks!

The immortal teaset

My grandfather had a beautiful teaset that he treasured a lot. He would clean it dilligently, keep it safe and was very possesive about it. He often told my father to be careful with it and he himself handled it with extreme care. My father remembers this distinctly!

Many years ago, my grandfather died...sometime after his death, my father noticed the teaset - safely perched in the almirah, secure and well kept. Father felt a sense of rage looking at it. He thought of the man who cared for it all his life, but was no more now...the immortal teaset stood where it was...father remembers this distinclty.

Memoirs pinned on a wall

Reminiscences, of a tiring mind,
they come and go, leaving none behind.

I wonder what, my heart would say,
to memoirs pinned on a wall of clay.

From love and song, to sorrow utter,
like sticky notes, in the wind aflutter.

I see, one trying to break away,
the wind too strong for it to stay.

My heart believes, that after all,
it must be pain, that leaves the wall,

For all the love, I got from thee,
my wall; a collage of tragedy.

Some shall be gone, some here to stay,
memoirs pinned on a wall of clay.

Nadeem....