Mistress of Hell

within the fires of hell,
souls screamed bitter blood,
the air a shade of darkness,
would pause and listen
for a breath that whispered
faith and parise of lord,
or dared to think of peace
in moments between punishments;

that one soul is her prize
to be broken again and again
with whatever means she like,
however long it takes,
there is just no escape
from her bottomless pit of desire,
where neither mortals survive,
nor gods dare to pass by.

that’s the kind of soul
lord sends to set her free
from the evil that shadows her,
to feed passionate fires
into her icy cold heart,
breaking past her words,
like hugs of a small child,
to make a seat in heaven,
she walked out aeons ago.

Advertisements

A little while

Venus and The Sailor, 1925, by Salvador Dali

A little while,
more my love,
he whispers in my dreams
A little while
is all I need,
before this dreams cease to be;
A little while
you must wait
his unhurried touch speaks
a little while
is all I have
to let you know how I feel;
a little while
I understand
I have to make myself believe
Many of these
little while
is what life turns out to be.

Prompted @ The Mag , Carry on Tuesday , Sunday Scribblings

her lost voice

In the mirror once enchanted,
Trapped lay a beauty protected,
Charmed into a smile
Bound by unknown lies,
She sings of days gone by
And about times to come she cries..

Bottom of the magic pond
Rested the mirror for times long,
The wonder today free for all
Mysteries though remain untold..
In lonely night the lady would stroll
Shedding light on places once lost ..

 

Prompted @ Magpie Tales

wo aisi pagli hai …

This time the image inspired in me a poem in mother tongue hindi .. So i wrote it first and later tried to capture the idea in english.

 

uski har ek hansi ke liye ,
din raat duayein karti hai,
uski har ek khushi ke liye
nit naye geet wo likhti hai,
uske sab andaaz saheje dil me
chup chaap palkein nam rehti hain
wo hasil hoga ya nahi kabhi
uske ek jawaab se darti hai …
kaid ho jaise ik bottle me
gin gin ke saanse bharti hai,
bikharegi ek din kaanch ki tarah
is naseeb se pal pal ladti hai ..
shabdon ke jaal jo bunti hai
ye pata hai ki chot milegi
fir bhi uski baahon me hi hasti hai.

image by Manu Pombrol

trapped in a glass bottle,
the one that might break any time,
she fights her own words,
that predict her teary destiny …
praying for his smiles,
she pens melodies to entertain,
knowing well this too shall pass,
she awaits the welcoming pain.

Answer to my calls

Some S.O.S calls are bizarre just for the fact that you never made them. some times you stand at a point in life, like at an empty booth and pretend to make a call to random stranger. You tap on the smudgy side glass to check if some one noticed you and feel both good and not. Good that no one would call you a fool and sad that the hopes to get some one to talk would be lost. Ghosts of your restless wishes seep through your sub-consciousness and without realization you make a call to God.

I might have made one such call, when I met him. silent and reserved, he was unlike any friend I ever had. Attentive and sensitive were some of the other words I would later describe him. A smile to fall in love with and words to die for. A friend I dare say I did not deserve , some one I never expected to come across even.

When you meet friends, we talk , and talk more and talk till we depart. We share stuff , we hide some, we smile more and cry so less. I had always known such friends. And they are one of the best. But little did I know even silence had a way among friends.

Nestled between insane talks and crazy stories , silence like shadows lined the street we walked. For fun, we faced the scorching heat of summers and challenged each other to slide on the ice grounds in our make-believe world. But often found ourselves staring curiously at the world and shrugging it off with carefree laughter.

Once some one commented on having a friend with whom she doesn’t have to always talk. I found it amusing as well as a challenge to be such a person. Today I realize i have found that friend in him. I never have to worry what next to say to him, what next to expect to hear. Never am I in a hurry to tell him my stories neither does he hurries his narration. We remain silent and engaged in our own task, without a care. This non-compulsion to speak is something I value the most with him. nothing I say around him or do, makes me feel odd or even him I suppose. This is indeed a new experience and one I will cherish forever.

thank you god for such a wonderful friend.

thank you dear friend, for making of such valuable memories.