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

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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

Catch me, if you want to

Har kadam pe
kuchh kum ho raha tha
yeh toh humein bhi
ahsaas tha,

zindagi to aage
badh hi rahi thi,
par,
aage badhne ka waqt
kum ho raha tha,

zikr kiya
khud hi se iss ka,
aur to koi
aas paas na tha,

ruk toh jaate
tere intezaar mein,
par swaal hi khud ka
jawaab tha.

English version:

At every step
there was a vague awareness
of leaving something
of value behind,

life was moving further,
but with a tingling feeling,
that the time ahead
was getting shorter,

I pondered on the thought
all by myself,
for there was no one else around
to share it with aloud,

I could have stopped,
waited for you to come,
but the answer was obvious
in the question itself.

© vidursahdev 2019