Will You Forgive Me?

Hapless as wistful tale of broken chord, unborn,
My soul doth travel, forsaken and encumbered,
By a phantom memory that creeps, stealthy, yet unhindered,
Through mine blinded windows, in its seething despair, my sensibility doth warn.

In crumbling autumnal maples, my soul beseeches to reach thy deep tawny,
A Rare brown showeth their intricate dance, but they match thy curious eye not,
Hazel, coffee and flaming amber, thy specialty have but ephemerally caught
Maroon, Auburn and pale ginger, shan’t ever be as severe as thy vivid near-mahogany….

Delirium doth descend, it is slow a chant,
So wild is the tendency, love, dually strong and tender,
In me is born the shy riddler,
All is now an incoherent stupor.

But in between the lines, you shall find,
An apology written with determined a hand,
Although cunning impatience had plagued,
Unforgiven poetess decided to write a hundred.

In life-blood it had written for thee,
Poems, not just a three,
A hundred, it hath reached century,
Lament hath reached the inflamed skies, the soul is sorry!

It has burned in pure a flame,
Has been toy to guilt’s hungry teeth,
Writing fingers have been fevered by passion
You have turned haunting inspiration.

So, today, the writer sanctifies,
In her words, you shall be idolized,
And as her sorry, she proclaims,
Forgiveness, she seeks, with remorse, intense.

She’s written you a hundred, staying up midnights,
Hoping that thou shall bless the blinded eyes, show it some light,
May you shine upon the unforgiven poetess that is me,
And cure her of her agony.

There have been but a hundred songs, which have in different ways screeched,
The singular word, repeating,
A sorry is all they say, each and every one,
Please, friend, will you forgive me?

In Between

Between the raging seas and the thunderstorm,
Between the gales, and the swarm,
In between, the seas, saline,
And the dark, sinister ravine.

In between, pain and happiness,
Pain in remorse,
And happiness in remembering memories,
In between, in between, in between.

I’m here, in between,
Not knowing where to go,
I’m here, in between,
Lingering here, unseen.

Clogged is my memory, full of your thoughts,
I’m feeling so unsought,
But you know, I’m really sorry,
Please don’t be angry.

I’ve understood today, and I’m unafraid,
I put it here on paper, I confess my mistakes,
I shall try to mend your heart, even if nothing is okay,
This is all I’d like to say.

I do not know whether my efforts will pay off,
I don’t even know whether you will be listening to my words,
But all I know, is that in my heart,
I’m so sorry, even if we are a world apart.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,
And I have sung, more than a ninety three,
So please, do forgive,
Please don’t let me stay here, caught in between….

11:04 pm, 31st January, 2010.

Burning Candle

On burns the taper,
And infant turns playful,
As the shadows flicker,
He touches the candle.

As finger finds the flame,
The little kid exclaims,
The blue tongue has scorched,
And he catches a blister.

Why, he reasons, did I venture?
“Because life was meant to be an adventure”
Quick comes the answer,
It belongs only in fairytales, the happily ever after.

It is easy to see from the innocent child’s point of view,
But did anyone else see through?
There is something called the candle,
Which now sobs, for hurting the angel.

The candle wanted to prevent,
And it now repents,
For the assault, for the abuse,
On the child who was unknowing, who had just been amused.

So sweet was the child, it was attracted,
To the sickly, glimmering flame,
Don’t stay here, please go away,
Said the flame on many occasions, but the child had stayed.

And see, in the end, the child got hurt,
And the flame can’t remain inert,
It was in the candle’s sickly nature,
To hurt the other.

But the candle now prefers,
To melt instead of to hurt,
It now reasons,
It would rather be extinguished than cause blisters.

10:53 pm, 31st January, 2010.

Empty

There is nothing where there once was,
Answer is simple, it is because,
I had been the cause,
OF a disaster, the guilt now gnaws.

There is nothing where there once was,
And the complete picture became jigsaw,
I guess nobody foresaw,
Such an end, and I became an outlaw.

Empty it is now, which was once filled,
The heart that had once, thrilled,
Like a very well disguised banquet,
Among roses, thorns hiding, in between.

Empty it is now, so void,
Empty, so devoid,
The tongue that once had lied,
You now, consciously avoid.

It was filled to the brim then,
But it was me, who had dampened,
Your spirits, so you had left,
Empty became everything, it felt like a theft.

But you were no thief,
It had all occurred naturally,
When burns on the candle,
It melts into itself.

It’s like a that lone candle now, melting,
Shining so bright, but also softening,
True, it is burning,
But one day shall be gone the light, and it shall be empty.

Empty, and so inane,
Sometimes, it feels pointless,
But there is a point to so long a song,
In it hides the remorse.

Please, will you forgive me?

Don't Resent Me

I’ve seen my fair share,
Of hurt, mistakes I’ve made,
And so much guilt with me, I carry
In the end, don’t resent me.

Because I’m trying, I really am,
So hard, now.
I know I have acted crazy,
But please don’t resent me.

Life sometimes turns crappy,
Sometimes, we act so bossy,
Yes, we also bully,
But try not to resent me.

I know I have been unfair,
I know, I am aware,
Of all the hurt I caused, but I have tried to repair,
So please don’t resent me.

It is very difficult, I know, I can feel the sting you feel,
I know, behind a straight face, you conceal,
Behind that façade, is that cauldron,
In hurt, boiling.

I know, I know, I comprehend,
The full wrath of my actions,
I’ve done my round of bad deeds, I’ve been a devil,
But please….try not to resent me.

I’m human friend, I made a tremendous mistake,
And that’s why I’m trying to correct it,
One poem at a time,
For you, I have rhymed at 10:29 pm.

10:29 pm, 31st January, 2010.

93

It’s an apology, the ninety-third,
From the one who has erred,
I don’t want to be misheard,
So I pray you listen.

There has been a mistake,
I don’t want to be friends, just for the namesake,
It’s genuine, my remorse,
And I know, my sorry is kind of coarse.

I’ve tried my best to make it really big,
In the process I have gathered
Many wonderful followers,
And they have been aiding.

I’ve tried so hard, to build,
The best sorry there is,
For my best friend, I’ll do anything,
A hundred more songs, if you desire, I’ll sing.

I called for the songbird, just for you,
So on my words, you may chew,
And finally come to know,
That I didn’t intend to be so shallow.

Ninety third screech, and it’s the last day of the month,
And great things, the journey has unearthed,
My thoughts have found expression,
But my best friend, hasn’t returned…..

Come back please, all mistakes have been realized,
And all errors, I’ve tried to correct,
Come back, please, now cry mine eyes,
For you friend,…..to come back.

10:21 pm, 31st January, 2010.

Sunflower's Story

Sunflower once thrived on summer rain,
She found nourishment on Indian soil,
And as she grew she obtained,
Lots of love from the sun, who sustained.

Sunflower followed sun everywhere,
His movements, observing, everyday,
Responsive was she, extremely dutiful,
Because, nourishment from the sun, she drew.

When sun would set, she would droop,
And when he awoke, she would too,
When he danced, she thrilled,
When he laughed, she giggled.

When he shone, she turned brilliant,
And under his reign, she was illuminated,
So devoted was the sunflower,
The fiery god, she revered.

When gusty the afternoons turned, and the sun disappeared,
Behind ghastly clouds, when it was all unclear,
Anxious would turn the sunflower,
And she’d never sleep until the storm was over.

She looked to the sun, every morn,
Admiring him from afar,
Even though he ruled the skies, and she was one of many,
She adored him, even if insignificant she seemed.

The sun had choices, there were many sunflowers,
In fields spread out, all across the world,
Sunflowers were many, but there was only one sun,
And special to her, the sun had become.

The sunflower actually never believed,
That the sun would choose her, over so many,
But the sun moved away, before she could find out,
He had befriended the murky clouds.

It was easy for the sun, to go away,
But without him life wasn’t the same,
The sunflower knew only dismay,
Without the warmth of the sun, she withered away.

10:10 pm, 31st January, 2010.