P a r a d o x



are negated,
by the thoughts
in which you dwell,
meetings and partings
now just a part
of an eternal constant,
the absence
of your presence,
often fulfilled
by an obliging dream,
the reasons
for the meeting,
as absurd as those
that exist for being apart,
the irony of fate
sometimes seems fair,
the rain has always fallen
to the beat of my heart,
but now it sings
a different song,
like against –
the black of the sky
with borrowed light
a full moon shines,
you are the brightest
paradox of my life.








Strange are the ways
of this eternal time
for it ticks and you live
and somewhere deep
within each heartbeat
unseen, unheard
there is a search
a wait, a hope,
and a yearning
of an unsaid wish
to feel that feeling
when it can finally say
to the running clock
‘you carry on
with your endless ticks
but let me off
in this momentary still
for I have finally felt
what I came to feel’.



Colourless Colour



User comments

i am just a colour
don’t put me in a box
don’t put me in a mould
you won’t see me reflect
in the mirrors
of any kaleidoscope
I am a colour
that can split
into a rainbow
and I need the sun
the rain and the sky
the freedom to be
to fly as the clouds
I am that colour
your pallet can’t mix
your brush won’t hold
but the empty spaces
on your canvas of life
you try so hard to fill
are no longer empty
look closer, you’ll know
for those somehow for me
are now my home.



W o r d s


broken words
and unkept promises,
invisible wounds
from insensitive deceptions,
the misgivings of the past
still stored deep within her,
and yet the only balm
he had ever known
to release the pain,
were the words that fell
from his random thoughts,
and as he looked
into her soulful eyes,
he knew one day
he would take her down,
his own scripted
memory lane,
and she would see
the beauty of words,
those that were
his to hers,
that were said, and kept
honoured and held.


The Hands that Hold


Take a lifeless piece of paper
A couple of strips of bamboo
String it up, and show it the sky
And then it comes alive
A playful kite on a magic string
Flying free, dancing in the wind
Surging higher into the sky
Straining against the thread that holds
Rising against the winds that blow
The further it goes, the stronger it becomes
An independent identity, on a blissful journey
And from afar, it is such a wonder
To see it way high up there
Sometimes one amongst the birds
Sometimes just cruising the open skies
Straining against the thread with such vigour
To reach out further, and discover life
And from a distance, who could say
Where from its journey began
But I have seen it from a closer place
And there runs a very thin line
Which somehow, bestows it this life
And the hands that hold that magic string
Maybe far away from the celestial kite
But a little tug here, and a little pull there
Sometimes they give, to get its direction right
The freedom to fly, not absolute then
The perception from afar
Missing the almost invisible link
Closer up, there’s a hand that controls
That thin line to the adventurous kite
And then as sunset slowly nears
The hands start pulling back the string
Signaling the time for this journey to end
The kite rebels by pulling away
Taking advantage of the still strong wind
It does not want its flight to end
There is so much higher, for it still to go
But the hands are accustomed to this rebellious tone
And as the distance between the two gets shorter
The winds which power it up
Slowly begin to lose their strength
The inevitability of the landing
Lends a certain submissiveness
To the earlier oblivious carefreeness
The last few pulls, at the string that binds
And its almost like the last a few breaths
No longer trying to pull away at the string
It sways, with no wind to hold it up
And then slowly it falls to the ground below
Where it lies still, its journey over
Now as lifeless, as when it had started
It had touched the sky, seen a different world
But throughout its journey
Through that invisible thread
It had remained connected, to its roots
Held and monitored at every point
By the hands that gave it, the freedom to fly.