A Sleepy Destination

The sheer thanklessness

of a winter night

gives us the right bearings,

and light,

to embark on a journey, 

any journey,

even the ten paces required 

to reach sleep.

Oh, indeed!

It is but sleep we crave for,

plan in earnest,

and pay for,

with the dreams,

the kind we all see,

and then fail to live,

come winter, or summer.

-- Leslie 

Brownian Destiny

​She beholds 'em in awe,

the falling leaves of spring,

the Palash bloom who,

in jest,

tapped her left shoulder;

made her turn right,

towards the right hues of life,

bright red, dreamy yellow.​​

We too,

I sigh and smile,

live our Brownian lives,

swaying with the mystical laws...

Of physics, blessings and fate,

our dreams and destiny.

Pic: Sreetama Bagchi

Naked Resolve

The strength in 

his resolve

remains true to its purpose;

it makes music.

Exposed to the 

morning scorn and humidity,

he walks tall,

and naked.

The monsoon's been good,

it floods the lanes

with dreams,

and turns land to

sea,

sea of humanity,

sea of hope...

He was always a 

sailor,

but away from his boat.

Ode to the Dying Night

Morning, good! 
The dying night 
I cry for, 
it drags away
my dreams with it, 
to purgatory,
where the lust
is retained,
desires n myths too.
And purity?
That's purged 
in a summer bonfire. 

The Good Ol' Trail

Well, the dust settles
over the li'l trail
from home to manhood.
I look back,
the dreams smile at me.
The man beams,
the child cries,
yet again, and again... 

For I write with my
feelings;
love with my
soul;
and fight with my
heart!

pic: wikipedia.org

Heartwarming Winter!

Good morning,
fog and frost...
A bit I struggle,
the hazy dreams,
then snuggle,
hide my face from
the cold stares of
a winter morning sun.

There, I find warmth
in the heart
that sings my lullaby
these nights so long.

Ode to Longing

I long...
I long to
slip and fall,
walking the tear-washed
green carpet,
sprouted overnight,
through many a
long nights, in fact;
too long,
I long...

To fall...
Run home in the rain,
wiping my tears
and muddy pride,
to the hot brew
in a steel bowl,
it's always steamy,
ready for me
on a cloudy day;
the fall...
 
I long...
For I am
too sure-footed to fall
in these insignificant puddles;
have too little time to cry,
too much of anger
to fear the stare
from those eyes
that taught me to love;
to LOVE...