Desires

Desires
we chase
that burn us
inside out,

not good
for the soul
that needs liberation
from their sway,

and yet
sometimes
my mirror shows
no soul,

just a reflection
of you
in both pairs
of eyes,

and I smile
wickedly
as the devil
rules all eyes,

burning the soul
with the fire
of the desire
flaming inside.

© vidursahdev 2019

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Visions of the Future

They finally achieved
their long chased
goal,

a robot
who did everything
that his programming bode,

didn’t laugh
at any of those
inappropriate times,

didn’t cry at all
when all around
sadness engulfed,

didn’t utter
any spontaneous
regrettable childish words,

only registered
what needed
logically to be heard,

even shook your hand
only the prescribed
three times,

never indulged
in the magic
of a tight warm hug,

manners polite
as listed in
that best selling book,

conversations rich
like the ‘National
Geographic’ content,

no skipped beats for him
his current
remains consistent,

with an internal
power backup,
no fears of a meltdown,

there is so much more
that he is,
and I admittedly am not,

for he follows
to perfection,
what a human should be,

pitying me
for my seemingly
incomprehensible shortcomings,

so they finally did create
the perfect
version of me,

but I am just a mortal,
and a mortal
I’d rather be.

© vidursahdev 2019

Matters of the Heart

The prognosis,
had often
been discussed,

but the diagnosis,
had yet
to be done,

so he set sail
on a journey
unlike ever before,

to course
through
the flowing rivers,

of the pulsating
and gushing
red within,

And so,
the veined channels
he traversed them all,

untill
he reached
the arterial core,

where he saw
what made him
happily smile,

for the clinical check
had said ‘her’
he had forgotten,

but his own
finding
undisputedly revealed,

The malaise
was not just
a figment of imagination,

but the ‘her’ they had
so convenietly
discounted,

had already spread
far beyond
control,

from the closeted
chambers
of his beating heart,

into every cell of red
that it
involuntarily pumped.

© vidursahdev 2019

Dying Art

If you can’t
read it
in my eyes,

even the best poetry
that i borrow
and recite,

will fall flat
and scatter
like a splattered egg,

And i wouldn’t do
such a dishonour
to them,

who without
even knowing
my existence,

said all that
which i
can’t even paraphrase,

For words
were never really
my forte,

and the language
of the eyes
is no longer,

respectfully read
taught
or practiced.

© vidursahdev 2019

A Cauldron of Dreams

Pic: Self

A cauldron
of dreams,
simmers
tonight,

I stir slowly,
and the
crescent moon
stares wide-eyed,

and stars
sprinkle into it,
their own faraway
secret sunshine,

my eyes
on the cauldron,
but the night
sees it in my eyes,

I stir slowly,
and the night sighs,
at other things
that simmer inside,

sometimes dreams
need to be cooked,
to take
the test of time,

tonight
I cook them all,
eagerly awaiting
tomorrow’s sunrise.

© vidursahdev 2019