Verses from nothing

Writing as a form of self-expression is something that I relate to profoundly. When words don't deceive me, I try to empower them to convey my thoughts and pen them down. In that space, I also stand in responsibility on how they occur to the reader.

Thursday, March 05, 2009

Tender beginning



My beloved,

You have walked for long,

In all the narrow and short,

Lanes of my mind,

 

And struck a chord to,

Every tune in my heart.

The music may,

Soothe the restive memories,

Or churn a few more.

 

Sometimes,

I am astonished as to…

How to nurture them ?

But yet I’ll…

Treasure them in my realm,

Till you accompany me,

To nourish them in your bosom.

 

Gazing thru the panes,

Of my heart’s window,

I will write odes to you,

Until my heart garners courage,

To tell the LOVE for YOU.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

A child, shook my world…


I had passed thru this street, that day,
And had met a child, happy and gay.
He played here, with beaming smiles,
That connected us, across miles.

Later one day…, I came to learn,
That this child, had come to ‘earn’;
A terminal illness that would turn,
Soon…, His life into ashes, in an urn.

Awaited here, a family for a miracle,
I prayed with them, for all that’s possible,
For long…, with a will for any fate,
They had barged thru all gates.

But alas! Life doesn’t offer choices,
And rarely heard, are such voices.

Children, we see, not so often,
Brooking pain, that would soften;
A world full of, sighs and sorrow,
With moaning thoughts for morrow.

But I treasure, the days of delight,
When I played, with this child of light,
He shone in the sky like a sun,
And fostered hopes, where there were none.

This day, as I passed thru their house,
I saw a man stand by his spouse;
There was stillness in the air,
And, today…, I hesitate to share.

A smile on this child’s face,
Snatched forever, in a slow pace;
As my friend was lead to the grave,
There was hardly a way I could be brave…

This child, innocent and tender,
Has shaken my world with a thunder.

© Vinay Nagaraju
May 26, 2002.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Knit Closely


With eight warriors of fame,
And three queens of silence,
They are one short of a dozen,
They ARE 'knit closely'.

Some far, yet so near,
Some near, yet so far;
Here's a medley of sorts,
This IS 'knit closely'.

Yarn of diverse colors,
Matted in a wonder fabric,
To clothe an awesome group,
The group is 'knit closely'.

Shoulder to shoulder,
Sharing joys and sorrow,
One for all and all for one,
ALL are 'closely knit'.

Set to conquer skies,
On greener pastures,
Birds of ONE nest,
It must BE closely knit.

© Vinay Nagaraju

A Conversation



Leaves fell down with weariness,
My aloofness, in their gait.

Autumn had an odour of love,
Not my unspeakable angst for self.

In the veins of the orange maple,
Lay the answers to my chase.

Ground beneath stood still,
My stubbornness, in their body.

Whistling of the winds in the woods,
String of thoughts, in my mind.

Walking across the thicket,
Hardly any answers were found.

A conversation in my mind,
A conversation in nature.

Life sings its song,
Am I in tune with thee ?

© Vinay Nagaraju