Criss cross

Criss cross
the patterns
of life,

sometimes
shadows
sometimes light,

an unpredictable
cocktail
of happiness and strife,

a
kaleidoscope
of colours,

often caged
in dogmatic
black and whites,

chasing everything
for everything
matters,

ending with nothing
for nothing
matters,

an intoxicating
journey
where time gets lost,

I was, I am
and then
no where to be found,

some bound
to others
some find the self,

rises and falls
inherent
its alternate spells,

though some rise
higher
the lower they fall,

there are those
that will fall
just to seem higher,

measures abound
but what is there
to measure,

when
the criss cross of life
remains an endless treasure.

© vidursahdev 2018

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And this is how I died

Pic : Self

Bored in her castle
playing with
her bats,

she stepped out
for some fun
followed by her cat,

she loved seeing
the forest green
once it had turned black,

there was blood
for the taking
and she wouldn’t miss that,

she could smell it
in the air
even as she put on her hat,

she followed the aroma
with a swish
astride her broom,

the feline pillion rider
as devilishly excited
for it’d seen this hunt before,

her eyes gleamed delight
as she saw him walking
merrily on the road,

at the edge of the forest
maybe a mile away
from his lonely home,

the cat’s eyes gleamed
while hers were roused
with blood,

his humming interrupted
by this maidens
sweetest voice,

he stopped, he turned
transfixed by this beauty
and her little beast,

and before his gaze
could recover
from a meeting of the eyes,

she drew her dagger out
under
the full moon light,

the sharpened edges
mocking
at his ominous plight,

the cat’s eyes burning embers
as the heartless lass
sweetly beckoned,

him, and his
mesmerized eyes
to move a bit closer,

for what he thought
would be
a wet blissful surprise,

but under the cover
of a passing cloud
she laid her dagger to rest.

© vidursahdev 2018

Vulnerable

Pic : Self

Life often
hits us,
where it hurts
the most,

and
for each one
that place
may
be different,

and when
we rise again
in what
seems
like another life,

we know
that space
will always be,
the weakest
part
of us,

for
only we know,
how
that one cut
there,
once almost
killed us,

but somehow
we survived it,
and now
we hide it,
from every other
questioning eye,

It still hurts
but we don’t
say it,
we know it
but we no longer
define it,

yet we
protect it,
like warriors
with all the defenses,
our insecure
being
has,

for we often
find safety,
in the known
pain
that persists,

than taking
the chance,
of exposing
that vulnerability
again.

© vidursahdev 2018

A Spider’s Tale

Pic : Internet

Like a
tiny dot,

i make
my start,

bit by bit
i learn the art,

i weave
a design,

the same
each time,

experience
tells me,

the bigger
i weave,

the more
i’ll catch,

so i focus
my sight,

on every
anchor,

i can
possibly reach,

spreading my
web,

wider each
day,

but unknown
to me,

a bird keeps
an eye,

the fatter
i become,

the more
it sees,

it’s lusty
eyes,

wait
patiently,

till one
day,

when i
am all done,

with
my meal,

i find
myself,

in the beak
of death.

© vidursahdev 2018