Friday 30 August 2013

You and Me



 
We are one
But not single !
Like a book
Folded and kept in the shelf.
When someone opens it
There comes two sides.
You and Me,
Or Me and You...
With nothing in between
But everything in between...
When I come to your side
You become thick and rich
And I vanish...
The same thing happens
When you come to me...
But at the end,
Alas ! We have an epitaph
Instead of an epilogue !!

Thursday 30 May 2013

Seven Dogs in the Night



In one of my nights
They came, seven dogs, at my window
And started barking on a high rock.
A single dog at the door is a pride.
But seven are not seven prides.
They started theirs and I mine.
They spoke very proudly on each others
Like men when they are seven.
I stopped mine as they went on.
I drew my curtain apart
And peeped through my window
There they are !
Alive, alike, and allied
With heads high and body pulled back
To speak to the peak, may be to the God!
I knocked on my windowsill to frighten them
Alas! they didn't mind and bother
Yes ! they are correct.
Why should they get frightened
When they are seven ?!!

Saturday 24 November 2012

Education

Education
------------------------
Does education really educate?
Does certificate really tell truth?
Each letter evolves words;
Words language,
Language knowledge.
Books piled up, boiled up,
And poured fresh in the minds
To think about future,
To thank the carpenter,
Who made the four legs of the reading table?
To love all, even the insect ‘who’ died
Suffocated, unknowingly,
Between the pages of ‘Love all Lives’ book last night.
Every sharpener sharpens your mind,
Every eraser erases your mistakes
Before others find it.
Every human loves to love.
But still, really ‘still’,
In this ‘light’ we fight.
Alas! Not even for the ‘right’.

- siraj-

Saturday 3 November 2012

Kerala


Kerala

S
  Ss
   Sshh…
   See her.
    A mother,
    Her eyes wide,
    Lips trembling dry,
    Cheeks bulky swollen,
     Red, full fire, fearful
      Wet with sweat.
       Tormented, ill-minded,
        Anger-anchored looks,
        Fading, fainting pain-sting.
        Limbs moving like Imps
        Towards a ward, no word.
         Waiting outside, wading inside.
          She is pregnant fully, truly
           Like a full-moon, a full womb.
            From a well-knowing potter,
            Tens ago, tensed sensed love vows,
             Dreams of future nurturing,
              Wish-washes against backlashes,
               To shine, to ring shrill bells
               Here comes he or she or it.
                (Still in womb, can’t say)
                With green up to brim.
                 To breathe in peace,
                  To know, to noble.
                   Came. Is born.
                    Our Land.
                      Kerala.
                       Lol !
                   

                  -----sirajpc---
             



       
         

   



Friday 7 September 2012

my umbrella

kept
my umbrella
with more flowers on it
in that corner where she put hers
with   butterflies  and balloons  on it
they   sat  there  wet,  touching each other
in the interval, she wrote those words on my umbrella
i
l
o
v
e
y
o
u
         s       h
         o      c
          m u

the cross

                                                                  


                                                                   the cross
                                                                   a     rose.
                                                                   a c r oss.
                                                   they      warn      him,    Jesus
                                                   who   hangs   on  the     cross
                                                   be careful! the nails are rusted.
                                                                  if  you  fall
                                                                  on church
                                                                 it'll demolish.
                                                                  then, mass
                                                                  will kill you.
                                                                  oh    Jesus
                                                                  be   careful
                                                                  the     nails 
                                                                  are   rusted. 

Wednesday 29 August 2012

The Last Moment

I opened that room
With a creaking sound.
It was inundated with smoky darkness
And deserted.
A walking stick stands still in a corner,
A big row of medicine bottles 
On the window side,
A spectacle on the table,
And an Ayurvedic smell in the air,
And at last,
A stamp pad left open
In the place of a glass of water in half
And the lost drops on the pillow...