Give it a name..

I dunno whether this is a proper work per se. Lines that just scurry across a mindscape, at best :)...

Hey! I'm you from twenty years hence,

Where dreams are sold at ten a pence.

Your life is a DVD displayed on a shelf,

Not one moment for you by yourself.

It reeks of monotone, the air you breathe,

Dull as your grave and its lifeless wreath.

Why bother if the mightier have a harder fall?

Irreverence this day comes cheap after all.

A brooding mind-mist, clouding and stalking,

Fogs our minds till death comes knocking.

Plug yourself in the wall and face another day,

Artificial ecstasy that comes to spirit you away.

Plant that mask that imitates a face with a smile,

Lie, cheat, steal, give into it for a while.

Feel that clawing from your insides, its a force,

Drags you to the present, through unopened doors.

Hourglass somersaults

Two mornings ago, i was just hit by a torrent of hidden old memories- sights, sounds, smells, a touch or two...i've finally forced my habitual side to forsake a rhyme scheme, i'm afraid it'll tamper with the feel of the poem. seems to give me a freedom from self-imposed shackles :)..

Its just another morning till the first thought hits you,

And flies you on its wings to a long-forgotten place.

You peer curiously at those vaguely familiar strings,

Threads of a life left behind, come to greet you again,

As the hourglass somersaults for you one more time.

Is that you, whose mother plants a kiss on the cheek?

Waving goodbye to the figure in pants much too big.

Is it the same smell, of books imprinted onto wood?

The first day back to school, brings back a panorama,

As the hourglass somersaults for you one more time.

Touch the same blades of grass that you ran through,

Or sometimes hid in, till your mothers grew worried.

The long summer days changed your innocent friendship,

Into the first pangs of an eager yearning for her touch,

As the hourglass somersaults for you one more time.

Time slows to a timid crawl, you're with your friends,

How can you keep talking so much about nothing?

It wasn't that funny a line, you all laugh together too much,

Yellow memories of a bonhomie on a failing recollection,

As the hourglass somersaults for you one more time.

But you're back in bed, your journey a hazy memento,

The canvas of your life just passed in front of your eyes,

Is there a regret, or a pining for what could have been?

If so close your eyes, and wish for it all over again,

As the hourglass somersaults for you one last time.

A Real Story

I got the idea for this while watching a skit making a gentle commentary on kids in reality shows. How there's quite a bit of falsehood and manipulation in them, and that's what I wanted to point to. Its again, slightly smaller, I have other plans for this work :)..yes, thats a chorus. go figure..

I stood for hours in the endless queue,

Acted cute as my parents told, to titillate you,

Yeah well I could sing, but that's not enough,

I spewed out sadder tales as the going got tough.

Vote for me, help me continue my journey,

I've had a hard life where nothing's come free,

Spent nights dreaming through the windowpane,

Is this story enough to touch your heart again?

I begged and begged, made promises to break,

When I lost out, there were accusations to make,

Falsely thanked the people, said my failure was fine,

It was for those who remained to repeat the same lines.

Vote for me, help me continue my journey,

I've had a hard life where nothing's come free,

Spent nights dreaming through the windowpane,

Is this story enough to touch your heart again?

The Last Take

This is an idea my mom gave me actually. Something she'd written in marathi when she was my age. She told me to write something on this. The premise is basically that its a maimed stunt double lying in hospital, watching on tv the actor he impersonated, win an award for that film. He's talking to someone who happens to have entered the room, pouring his story out. And 'He' is the hero of the film here btw, purposely done so, to sarcastically enhance his greatness. I haven't tried to be eloquent or very poetic, i feel it'll ruin the feel of the poem. His emotions are subject to interpretation, i'm trying to keep it as open-ended in thought as possible...

Could you turn on the television sir,

And switch to the film awards show?

My body aches, my vision is a blur,

And I can't move my limbs anymore.

Did you know sir, that it was in fact I,

That took the falls and all the burns,

As He stood and watched by the sides,

Only to face the camera when it was His turn.

A passing glance, or a mumbled thanks,

Was all the gratitude from Him I'd get,

Empty promises of rising through the ranks,

As I risked my life everyday on set.

The people loved Him in it, made Him a star,

Everybody said 'The Star' would win it all,

So tonight I'm watching Him at His finest hour,

Hoping to be acknowledged, however small.

There He is! He did indeed win it,

Ssh wait, let's see what He has to say,

His family, the people for making it a hit,

He thanks the director for making it His day.

And so I shall rot away into the background,

Yet I have found my reason to be happy,

When He looked at the camera with gratitude profound,

I want to believe He was looking at me.