a friend is dead

my friend is dead,
i watched her sleep in the burning fire
she was covered with flowers
as she turned into ashes underneath
but i thought it was just a dream
i will meet her again at her house where we used to play

i am at her house
but the house isn’t her anymore
its occupied with people
nobody i know
and they have asked me to join
but i won’t

but i won’t
because it would make her cry
it would make her angry like she used to be
now that i have waited long
i realised she wouldn’t come
the dreams i thought, was not a dream
my friend has died

Ganesh ji

most beautiful of all(haiku)

i haven’t yet written a poem for you,
but when i do,
it would be the most beautiful of all..

dreaming ganesh

the unquiet sky

the night of this unquiet sky
the lonely stars,
and the existence of
house of  melancholy

the doors are ajar
the dim lights,
and a picture frame
upon the dusty wall
accompanied by the solitude,
it hangs there...

incomplete

my first ever jazz improvisation..(autumn leaves)

thought i should save it on my blog as well

 

 

 

 

portrait of my grandfather on oil

 

perhaps they are free

suddenly there is a silence
a long, long silence,
darkness engulfs the burning flame
and the sky weeps 

the lonely faces are scattered
full of silent cry
those awaiting eyes are never to return
and the faces are never to smile 

Death awaits in the valley nearby
dressed in white i suppose,
perhaps there is peace where they are heading,
perhaps they are  free..

A smiling face in the dark