Shadow

img_20170423_225432580226815731541540.jpg
Photo © Taruchaya
Sometimes I press my palm over my chest
slightly to the left where my heart is
And feel my heartbeats – usual trough and crest
rising and falling without a miss.
Thumping in rhythm with the ticking of clock
just the monotonous tones of life
Same movements everyday – familiar tick tock
Similar sound and pace – Oh both so rife!
I wish the heart gets a battery someday
with a disclaimer that it too shall drain
And with it this life shall drain away
gradually and silently escaping all pain.
Or maybe mix with rain – tears not salty but stark
This moldy existence slowly decaying – almost extinct
Staying alive like a shadow in the dark
that lingers silent and creepy but distinct.
You are there but still you are not.
People walk over the shadow without pause.
Never bothering or knowing a jot
whose that shadow was!
© Taruchaya

Spiral

img_gothic_20190114_190134_processed6969066825307610316.jpg
Photo © Taruchaya

I’ve been asked why I write sad poetry,
Never been asked what makes me sad.
Why don’t all lines end in perfect symmetry?
Blank verse is incomplete, boring and bad.

I’ve been judged for my plain appearance.
What colour am I ? I’m brown with specks of black.
I’m fat – that’s acknowledgement of my existence.
Hypocrites think I’m just another joke to crack.

Perhaps I’m an old dusty book in a forgotten library,
Yellow with age, stained and a little moth eaten.
My words sound either fictional or too real and scary.
Emotionally manipulated and seldom mentally beaten.

I’ve been asked why I’m silent, cold and lonely.
No, your love doesn’t fill the cracks in my heart.
For I know what you crave – Alas! Just half of me.
And I’m not just flesh and bones – I’m a spiral work of art.

© Taruchaya

Silence

img_20170411_234731_4147456713769905806880.jpg
Photo © Taruchaya

Even the deepest moments of silence have a sound.
The blotchy moon often gets a cloudy halo around.
As I try to soak into the drizzle of silver silence,
sealed lips struggle to conceal my heart’s blatant defiance.
Like a stubborn child on the shore I write my thoughts on sand,
unintimidated by the waves that fail to understand.
Silence gave a sigh and slipped into a solemn slumber of solace,
leaving me behind – cold and lonely in my thought’s embrace.
Seeping through the chaos of thoughts I silently rejoice,
my heart’s hum when this mind is mum – my soul’s muted voice.

© Taruchaya