What never dies

Daring drunken monotony,

Sweetened by the winter's evening.

Creepers  growing on cracks and walls,

On roofs and broken windows.

Apart from the laughter,

There is the scathing voice of fear, of sobs,

Of broken ties, dripping sweat and riding thoughts

On the awaited fantasy of a  future life.

Making sense of what is wrong,

Forgetting always what is right,

Assuming its all written in the past,

And where would we be, if we were wise.

Thunder and lightning and storms all cost

An acoustical treat nearby,

If we aren't truly lost, then we should have found 

What never dies.

-- Mohan

My world crumbled

I'm withered. Yes I'm withered

By these northern winds that

Blow upon these turbulent seas.

Disassembled by the sun that

Sways over the skies.

What good did thee bring, sunshine?

What good;

But to light this waste and dust

Spread over these lands so ungrateful.

What pity are you giving,

What love will thee shed?

I see you riding your high winds,

Over dales and ditches all the same.

In some  place, the light, lights up the way.

Whereas at others I only see life when its grave.

And you wind,

You marauder of nature.

Masked in your glorious contour.

What love did thee bring from over the seas?

I can smell only the

Filthy fragrance of my surroundings.

What love did thee bring as you promised?

What message bottled did thy sail

Carry across the sea?

It was but terror, terror

And worldly manners while

My world crumbled under the weight of its wave!

-- Mohan

Another Day

Frivolous dreams echo in my sleep, wanton

Thoughts of willful disobedience, scream

In this canopy of endless nights.

Magenta clouds, their silk dress embroidered

With sunlight bold, yellow, colored in nature exquisite.

Skies so cold, their breath sweat drops of dewy remorse.

Marauders and sailors vying against hope, defying

The very nature of land, to stay still, and eat fresh food.

Stale and sombre for days on end. Waiting for the

Sickle to bend. For the hammer to fall down

On broken earth and dry riverbeds.

Another day, another sunshine, another dream.

-- Mohan

Morning doubts

He walked around with his head submerged in doubts,

About the coming tomorrow.

Listening to the ‘leaves of grass’ shedding

Tears in the morning sorrow.

Without a glance, he changed his stance

To resemble the clouds flying afar.

Feeling anon, with his head on stone,

Turned up to gaze at a falling star.

Tears in his eyes, his legs frozen and cold,

His heart covered in a mannequin fold.

What could it be, his longing for sanity,

An unrequited dream? A passing fantasy?

-- Mohan

Timeless frenzy

Your sweet breath it lingers on my earlobes,

Sauntering, blossoming its wild fragrance.

Your voice, it haunts my chilled bones,

When all that I’ve asked for has been granted.

How we lay there, pouring our souls bare

On the cotton crevices of our bedded bodies?

Sleeping on the sweet succour of our innocence

Playing tricks on senses, skin, touch and feel.

When we knew our eyes and ears,

Our nails, fingers and fears

Would all be erased in a timeless frenzy.

Our hearts now don’t beat at the same place,

Nor do our breaths match the temper of crashing waves.

Our eyes only see the sands slip away, from

Under our feet into the dreaded tidal sway.

-- Mohan