Vastless, Priceless, Timeless

(I thought I'd post this more recent poem of mine, while still on the subject of Time. This was my first real attempt at using multiple poetic instruments in a single poem. Read this poem more than once, and you might discover more levels to it than you'd have imagined I'm capable of expressing...)

Everything has a beginning:
A beginning, at some point of time –
Tell me, then, when did time start?

I watched as the golden-orange strands of Sun
Touched the faint blue of the early morning sky.
It appeared to kindle activity in the town
Spread out in front of me.

He brought light, he brought life.
“I will match you,” I laughed –
Kissed my Mom’s cheek, pulled my Dad’s ear,
And scampered off to school.

In my mind’s eye,
A thousand cities were built,
A hundred empires were born,
Civilization grew, and people learnt.

The ten-storey building
Had a shadow ten metres long.
Typical of him, I thought.
Dwarfing things on Earth, outshining things outside.

But am I very different?
After all, I mean to be the best.
Grimly I turned to face the board of directors.
I am their leader, their saviour and their God.

In my mind’s eye,
Armies conquered, and trade flourished –
Order and culture were defined,
Mathematics and art were refined.

Evening faded into twilight.
A smile creased my cheeks
As I watched the solemn sunset:
Even you won’t live forever, I thought.

I’ve left my mark upon the world
And a footprint on the sands of time.
Earned my fame and my sizeable fortune…
The end is near, but not satisfaction.

In my mind’s eye,
The grandest of Kingdoms
Decayed into lifeless ruin.
Greatness passed in a geological blink of an eye.

Everything has an ending.
An ending, at some point of time –
Tell me, then, when will time end?

The Stamp of Reality

(I must've written this when I was a kid! Still, it's not too bad... it has a message. Nature dwarfs us at every step, yet we are not humble enough to acknowledge it.)

Isn't it ironic,
That it takes hours of work
To build a house of cards,
But all it takes to bring it down
Is a small gust of wind.

Isn't it ironic,
That after years of hard work
To build up a reputation,
All it takes is one mistake
To besmirch your name forever.

Isn't it ironic,
That it takes ages to build a city,
But one violent gesture
From Mother Nature
Can reduce it all to nothing.

The ultimate stamp of reality
That puts us in our place
Is that everything is ephemeral;
Still, the illusion of permanence
Is what keeps us going.

Promises

(A thought-provoking poem. One of my favourites: woven with frankness, and raises some fundamental questions. I hope anyone who reads this is a better person for the experience.)

In all the years of your life,
Have you ever bothered to pause
And count the promises you’ve broken?
It is likely you never have, because –
Words are but a token,
A sample, of greater things,
That do not get translated into reality;
They are like mere strings,
The matter of detachment a triviality.

Rarely do you find a man of his word,
Whose every single utterance
Is locked with truth and sincerity
Who realizes the importance
Of speaking with full honesty
And acting according to his words.
Such a man you can trust
For all you can see are his true colours;
It would be hard to disbelieve him even if you must.

Every time you take someone’s help,
You are making a promise
To be equally forthcoming
When he needs yours;

Every time you say
‘Yes’, ‘Okay’ or ‘Later’,
You are making a promise
To do something you should.

Every time you pray,
You are making a tacit promise
To be honest and righteous
And ‘good’ in its traditional sense.

The worst kind of promise to break
Is when you actually swear to do something,
And find yourself unable to;
Does your heart not sting
When you cannot come through,
Be it due to your own fault,
Or circumstances beyond your control?

So think before you speak,
For when you do not keep your word
You hurt others as well as yourself;
Until you cultivate this quality
You can never truly be happy.

Drown me with Words

(I consider this a good poem by my standards. However, I wrote in an age - 1998 or thereabouts - when I was much more verbose and prolix in my writing... which is not necessarily a good or a bad thing, but it makes for slightly heavier reading.)

When my performance goes from bad to worse,
People tend to drown me with words.
They say I lack inspiration,
That I can't achieve anything without perspiration,
That hard work is the key to success,
With emphasis on thoroughness.
There should be no room for complacency,
And I must strive to attain competency.

With repetition bordering on platitude,
I am told to drop my casual attitude,
And change my outlook in general,
Or it's going to be my funeral.
So where did I go wrong?
The question bewilders me for long.
Eventually I shrug my shoulders,
And telling myself it's a rock, not a boulder,
I made one mistake, so what,
Let me give it another shot.

It is called the law of averages,
That somehow life manages
To make you succeed at last
When it seemed to be heading nowhere and fast.
Suddenly you're back at the top,
But remember it wasn't a lollipop.
People may shower lavish praise,
You feel like the most important person in the place,
But you know it's an established fact
That fate's made a tacit pact
And applause is ephemeral
Sound as well as noise is measured in decibels.

I heard a great man say,
‘Every dog has it's day’.
So if someone drowns you with words,
Whether it's sweet like the birds
Or acrid like smoke,
Pretend it was the wall that spoke.
So remember what I said,
Let not success go to your head,
Do not take failure to heart,
And if you are smart,
Behind you, you would not glance.
Leave nothing to chance,
Be meticulous, diligent and systematic,
Success is not automatic,
But always do your best,
And safe in that knowledge you can rest-
No matter what the outcome,
There's another day to come.

The Place I Call Home

(A light poem, written with and for a light heart on a light day... more a song than a poem, actually. I was humming John Denver's "Leaving on a Jet Plane" when I wrote this. It's a simple poem, written to unburden myself; nothing particularly great about this one.)

I’m proudly walking,
My steps are light;
The Sun is shining,
Clean and bright;
‘Cos on this fine day
I’m on my way
To the place I call Home.

The road is long,
The end’s not in sight;
So I’m singing a song
As though I’m on a flight,
And if I see someone I say
I’m on my way
To the place I call Home.

It’s been a while
Since I’ve come this close,
And as I climb the last stile
My heart glows;
I’ve come to stay,
I’ve come all the way
To the place I call Home.

Altruistic

(I feel like I really must compensate for the previous post... this poem is one of my favourites, because it has so many levels to it. It was the most mature poem I'd written at that relatively young age of 16.)

He was just a child,
Sitting by the lamp-post,
Crying his heart out.
No shoes on his feet,
Begging on the street,
Nowhere to play,
Nowhere to stay.
My heart went out to him.

I am a man of compassion,
I tell myself.
A good citizen,
A man with scruples,
A man of principle,
Who helps people in need,
A man fit to lead.
But I didn’t raise a finger to help.

I could give money to beggars,
I could lend things to my friends,
I would do favours to strangers;
But I could never make a sacrifice.
It is not enough to be nice;
Unless you can give up something special,
Helpfulness isn’t real,
And you’re just another hypocrite.

Blessed are the people,
Who are truly altruistic,
Who would give up something
That means the world to them,
If it would help someone
In genuine need.
Somehow, the good deed
Always finds its way back to them.

The last I heard
Of the orphaned child,
A neighbour adopted him,
Raised him as his own son.
And while this was done,
All I did was watch and say,
There are good people in the world today,
There really are people who are altruistic.

The Paragon of Perfection

(I wrote this one in a fit of boredom... saw a poetry contest on a website and generally took part. The topic was on diamonds, obviously because the sponsor was a jewellery store. This poem is just a bunch of rhyming clauses... no emotion, no poetry at all really. I'm putting it here because ultimately I will upload every poem I've saved, good or bad. So I'd better not get any positive comments on this one...)

Shimmering - like a star in the sky,
Glistening - like dew on a lotus leaf,
Intriguing - like nothing else can,
Enrapturing - like nothing before.

I talk about that single thing,
Be it on a necklace or ring,
Or even just alone.
It isn’t merely a stone;
It makes women gasp
And men stand spellbound.

Regardless of it’s size,
It is a valuable prize.
The best gift one can give
It will last as long as you live.
It depicts love; it portrays care.
And it is also eternal.

If I may be bold enough to propose
One thing that I suppose
Is closest to perfection,
Then without any trepidation,
I can tell you,
It is a Diamond.

Into Your Eyes

(I wrote this poem very recently, on Feb 17th to be precise. I have no idea why I churned out such a romantic poem... the words just flowed of their own volition. I guess most of my good poems are the ones that write themselves. This one is about a guy who is happily married. For two people to be happy together, they need not be alike, and they not be soulmates; they just need to love each other.)

Swaying to the soft tune,
Holding you in my arms,
Looking into your eyes,
Those laughing, enticing eyes,
I don’t want to let go…
I don’t want time to flow…

Lying, awash with tears,
In a moment of pure grief,
I look into your eyes,
Those beautiful, concerned eyes,
And I stifle the next moan,
For I know I’m not alone.

Walking up to the podium,
To receive a coveted prize,
I seek out your eyes,
Those proud, happy eyes,
And I realize I already hold,
The biggest prize ever told.

Taking a soothing evening walk,
With you beside me, holding my arm,
I again look into your eyes,
Those quiet, content eyes,
And oh! What happiness I derive!
In knowing I’m the luckiest man alive.

Starry Starry Night

(Reading this poem after a long time is bringing back the thoughts I felt while writing it... I had been listening to Don McLean's song "Vincent" which starts with these three words. I would play the song again and again and drift into a state of peaceful bliss. And now and then, when I do look up at the sky on a clear night, I remember my own words, and my troubles disappear...)

It’s a starry starry night,
Striking in its serenity;
Lying, entranced by its beauty,
I could stay like this for eternity.

Bathed in its starlight,
The landscape wears a silent hue,
And as the cool wind blew,
Such moments are rare, I knew.

For as I think of my plight,
Living a rat race everyday,
Out of which there is no escape,
It is for such moments that I pray.

So, as the sky grows bright,
I stand up and breathe a sigh,
Have a last look at the stars so high,
Walk away and say goodbye,
To this starry starry night.

One Moment in Time

(I wrote this poem a long time ago, when I was absorbed in listening to the beautiful violin compositions of J.S.Bach. It's title is a tribute to a song by Bach of the same name. Somehow, music and poetry are inseparable in my mind... they stir my soul equally, and they are more expressive than a thousand lines of prose...)

In all of our memories,
There lies one special moment-
One moment in time
That lasts forever.

For some, it is their first kiss;
For some, their graduation;
For some, the birth of their child;
Everyone has their own special event.

One moment in time
That you can remember
As clearly as though
It happened only yesterday.

One moment in time
When every little detail
Every expression you saw
Remains indelibly branded.

One moment in time
When the emotions you felt
Return to fill your senses
Every time you think about it.

Every one of us
Has a special memory,
One moment in time
That lasts forever.