House of cards

We built a house of cards

On the sandy beach, out in the wind;

Near the sea shore,

Out close to the greens, the tall tress casting,

Shades of green and grey, all around.

Putting together the pieces up one by one!

There was ample sun around,

Gusty bouts of winds,

The sun hammered down upon us,

Oft it was a blissful scene.

The house of cards came up piece by piece,

We arranged each around with careful ease,

Out in the sun, out in the wind,

Singing the summer song, we held our hands,

We laid out our dreams, one by one; card by card.

Lost in delightful reverie,

Looking into each other’s eye

Alas, how time flew us by.

We laid out the foundation,

Built up the wall, arranged the ceiling,

Tiny windows and doors,

Dotted the walls,

Letting in the sun, breeze and our dreams,

We made it all our own.

The land, the garden, the nook, the aisle,

The corners around the alcove,

The dust, the mud stains on the staircase,

Yes, it was all our pride.

Proud were we, and even strung the welcome wreath,

Just above the door, to spread the welcome cheer,

The little fish bowl adorned the chest,

That stood right beside the door.

The tabby cat, the fluffy dog, the fat mice, a fledgling bird,

All called it home.

But in daze, we forgot the make the space,

For our special keepsake.

Along came a light draft of sea breeze,

Tinged with salty seduction,

It blew the house of cards,

Right away from where it was laid on its base.

The balmy breeze wrapped up,

In a lover’s embrace,

Around the card block,

And threw helter skelter,

Everything we put together in haste,

Alas, all our dreams were unmade.

We were left scrambling off our feet,

Collecting souvenirs of the dreams we had courage to once see.

The house of cards, out in the open,

On the beach, in the sun, right beside the sea.

What remained of thee, but some mere pieces,

Lying scattered on the silicon sea,

Abandoned by the cat, bereaved by the dog, the rat and bird both gone.

Even the fish bowl is amiss, the fish retreated in haste;

The welcome wreath lay sheathed in its dusty shroud,

All glory is lost.

And we ran along to collect, treasure and save,

Those bygone moments cherished,
And placed them inside the Pandora's box. 

Where our dreams took shape; life blossomed,

Now just shadows and shards of memories created in giddy pace,

A mere card, tattered and barred around the edges,

We held clutched in our grasp.

A sojourn with a nocturnal companion

Cold was the night, my soul listless, relentless;

A paradox of emotion, tumbling through my head.

The rhythm seemed imperfect,

Or I had shut my mind’s eye.

Through the doors, I walked into the cold night,

The cool of the night and my burning emotions,

A charitable companion, me and the night.

I walked past the doors, of the sleeping city,

I walked even past the dark narrow alleys,

That brimmed with nocturnal activities.

Night’s canvas painted a different picture,

Than that of it’s bright-lit cousin- daylight.

It all seemed purist, even part illusion,

A far away dream,

That has long faded, leaving its scant essence,

Chaffing against the soul.

Yet we walked on, me and my companion, the night.

I came upon a crossroad, which I may have often passed by before,

But never oft enough,

For I never stopped to explore.

To look beyond what was there.

To overcome the cold stares, that crippled one’s soul,

There was not enough defiant-ness, to find out anything more.

To escape this existence, where mundane seemed life;

All else- a hushed up existence,

Dwelling in the dark abyss of mind,

So deep, so dark,

Light could not reach out.

And there it lingered, crawled, clawed, tried to break free.

But the shackles of darkness, held it place-

A prison of its own destiny.

Help me night, to see where I am going.

For, this journey, once began, has no ending.

No going back to the very beginning.

Night’s kaleidoscope painted a mournful hue,

The mind’s eye, knows not what’s true.

What is before the eyes, or what has bygone.

It just might not have ever been existent.

I turn to my companion, unanswered questions lingering,

But the apparition fade off into nothingness

And, as I trace my way back, pensive from my traverse

I pass the doors of the sleeping city,

I walk even past the dark narrow alleys,

And walk back through the doors,

Away from the cold night, into my cold, closed soul.

A paradox of emotion, clamouring all around me, choking.

The rhythm all imperfect, without harmony;

And I, without my nocturnal companion, lost in the cacophony of the silence.

Down, down the Ferris Wheel

I am going down on the Ferris wheel;

Everything around me stands still;

The wind sweeps across my face,

Unsettles my dress, my visage,

Everything else stands still.

I go low, low,

Doing the rounds, a musical twirl,

Faces pass, visions blur,

The world is a colorful maze,

As I sit perched, going down on the Ferris Wheel.

There someone rushes past,

A multi-hued zigzag, amidst the façade.

As I sit still, the world moves in a tumble,

Spinning out of control,

While I sit and assemble.

I am going down on the Ferris Wheel.

It is a prolonged journey;

From top to bottom; of the arc,

I make it in periodic motions,

Never past, the downward spiral of the Ferris Wheel.

The peripheral vision plays tricks,

I see the world in colorful haze,

An alluring lion’s lair,

Or a gypsy’s forgotten tune, playing out to the meadows.

A mask here, a face there,

It gets hard to decipher, truth from dare,

While I am going down on the Ferris Wheel.

The cold air stings,

Ground seems afar,

While I am suspended,

Hit the bottom below,

Or fly away,

The wings and the clips are both in my bag.

The Ferris wheel goes round and round

It replaces all others sounds,

I am the sole occupant,

Besides me none,

To hold me up,

Or push me down.

Eyes, hardly see past the daze,

Nose leaves behind its senses to the ground,

Ears, they strain to hear,

The mortal sound, while the giant Ferris wheels roars past the ground,

And I, its sole occupant, sit and wait my turn to get off.