Tag Archives: pain

Oasis

Pitter patter rain
clattering from the sky
First summer rain pours..

Splashing raindrops kindle joy
What a pretty feast for eyes!

Midst of torrential splutter
The cry of raindrops unheard..
Helplessness goes unnoticed therein.
If, raindrops could hold onto the clouds?

Alas! The forcible burst onto the soil
failed to camouflage the chaos.

My eyes get wet every time
I witness this phenomenon.
The silent teary raindrops
fall on the desert of my heart
lamented by their unseen pain.

In return, they gifted an oasis!
Perhaps, a rare gesture of gratitude!

A smile presumed on my face
A joyful tear I shed in silence
It reflected on the unshed raindrops.

© Maaya Dev

Between This Life and the Other: The Rain

Do my dirty walls rain, still?
Dots imprinted on dark leaves, scrawling,
Pressing their heads to the crushing dust of human pain?
Do the fingers still dig into
The dark, unfathomable whole,
Beneath the ribs, the pain, stark dead, burning?

Do the primal clouds of monsoon jump in puddles, still?
Longing to steam, to cry in small streams,
Ripples and kisses, running down, the deluge
Slitting throats, trampling my primordial breast?
I have seen the skin, blood, bones
Of the rain, hung on to thirsty fingers
Licking the pickled salt of a fleshy pain.
Is it mine, still?
Forgot its name since we last held hands.

Does it still rumble, growl inside,
The billowing cloud-fire, the necklace of grief?
The night, jumping, leaping, sticking her tongue out
For one last dance, entwines me,
Stumbling over, as I listen to mourning ghosts,
Moving around, in circles, the earth
A whisper of sprinkled ashes of pain?

The smoke, a translucent fusion,
Do I drink it whole? The murky waters
Ruminating on the slumber-buried drone of pain.
Do I shake it off like old dust? Here it comes back
Peels and hums amid grinning, littered rain.

The bird rests beneath the rusted bricks and walls
The flash of cool light, of rain, long gone.
The heart of the wind beating amid the dead leaves in rain,
I stand, smothered between the damp walls,
Breaking and sinking, birdlike, aflame, drowning.

A World Without Poetry

A world without poetry,
The concrete hammering of mails
The infusion of programmed chores
A day, yet another day shedding it’s leaf
In parched, scheduled coldness.

Collective tangling of prosaic voices
Barbecue in the summer heat,
Disjointed company of drunk folks
Stinking of the corporate fumes.

Shattered raindrops, where do I hide you
In the luscious spread of weekend delicacies?
The shrieking yells of perfumed bodies,
The flashy make-up of the powdered night
Hides you like submissive dirt.

The deep chasm of naked arms bleed
My unwritten lines buried under
The daily litany of unanswered applications,
Unsolicited proposals, boxed and sealed
Never caring for a reply, a nod, an assaurance.

A world without poetry dies and lives
Every day, crafty, stoic, plastered,
Waking in hopes of a startling twist
Of a delicate, lyrical opulence.

Sweet Surrender

Sweet, sweet surrender,
There are scars upon my heart
When I come back to your arms
You like to prick them, stand still,
And admire my integrity.
That you know for sure,
Sweet is the flower that rests on the thorns!

In darkest waters do I sleep
With the sweaty jostle of clumsy streets,
Come to me with your scarlet lips and crimson wrists,
Together let us weep crystal tears buried in shadows deep.
Your heart be the candlelight, your soul be the gold
That chains my life with unspoken sins galore;
So let me bleed, and not restore,
Sweet, sweet surrender.

Here do I come to seek the spring
In the luscious, flowing rivers of your arms.
Arms that resist to heal.
Fruits of much grief they are, surely emblems of more,
Together we have died and bled of love,
Sweet, sweet surrender.

Come, let us melt in deep, turquoise lakes and azure skies,
Pass away quietly in lullabies of our slumber.
The inferno of our pain will wander in the winds,
Carrying secret breaths resting in shades of amber…
Sweet, sweet surrender.

I think of mistakes and redemption lying in their graves
And we, with our pains, are thoroughly blessed.
The greatest ashes of our shared wounds lie
In those tombs of the yesteryears
So let us die and rise the same
For yet another resurrection of pain.
Sweet, sweet surrender.

( This poem has been published in the Fall 2013 issue of 13th Floor Magazine, a bi-annual literary journal produced by the Writer’s Workshop department at the University of Nebraska at Omaha.)

The Silence

The silence is
Malignantly comfortable,
As each sand grain
Takes its place
As the wind whips
Against my face
And makes my heart
Take a somersault…

Simple acceptance
Has its own way
Of hurting the center
Of your existence.

I didn’t know that
Until you were made to
Pass by without a glance
That you ached to
Throw my way…

Little beads of moments,
Little pearls of tears,
Little dews of sweat
And tiny specks of fears,
Donned with uncertainty –
All have frozen to form
The petals that remain
Of the drowning rose.

Swirls of smoky fog
Veil those eyes that once
Failed to look away from you ~
Not because they can’t
Condense and liquify the pains,
But because they refuse to,
Just so the malignantly comfortable
Silence continues…

~November 27th, 2012
~ sana rose~

Consolation

Gentle thumb
Cleared patches
And streaks on
The fogged window
To see the raindrops
Trickling down
Its glassy pane;

You gazed your way
Into my soul,
Until the rain ceased.

I stopped –
You smiled –
Your breath turned
Into my lullaby…
I chuckled –
You consoled –
My tears turned
Into your reason…

Being apart
Even before
Being together
Was perhaps
The only reason
We had to go on…

– June 21st, 2012
~ s.r. ~

Monsoon Blues Again

Once I wanted to die in the rain,
But today, I stare out the window
And no such beautiful pain
Touches my heart, no such tow…

Despite the emptiness in my chest,
The earth drinks her share,
Leaves me to listen, but no zest
Dares me, like I’ve not a care…

Now pain defines its own absence,
And how much I miss what showered
When pain coupled with elegance,
While hurts towered, poems flowered…

Their War

Ear-shattering lullabies
And muted cries,
Smoke-veiled skies
And unsaid goodbyes –
Were yours and mine
Since we opened our eyes.

In ruins we played,
Where once people prayed
And love was portrayed,
When peace had stayed –
These are yours and mine,
The memories so frayed.

Food bags with bombs,
The roads our own tombs,
Dear lives in wombs,
Seeking refuge in roofless rooms –
This page is yours and mine,
Which drowns, drains and dooms.

I remember how you’d cried
When the bad boy had pried
Away your doll’s limb; I tried –
I gave you my doll’s; your tears dried-
This loss is yours and mine,
Your legs, my arms; hopes’ve died.

Peace smiled from afar,
Like a delusional star,
Everything that was, is now char,
Blood looks like dried tar –
That stain is yours and mine,
Our forgotten life, their celebrated war.