Wailing loud.


She asked herself a question,
Then a next one, and then one more.

Her curiosity got the better of her,
Her notoriety didn’t do her any good either!!

Then one at a time, she reviewed her thoughts,
And one at a time, she thought about it each.

She listed the pros, the cons she weighed,
She twisted the truths, some lies she sewed.

Then her heart told a story untold,
But her mind did not approve of it.

As the day was big, she shouted out loud,
And then when she shut up, there was eerie silence, no noise, but only wailing LOUD!! .

-Stuti

Advertisements

Strength – Weakness


I may take time,
But I’ll reach there some day.
I may not understand your stand today,
But I’m bound to conquer it one day.

Your situation may be my weakness today,
But not for forever.
Your weakness may break my heart today,
But it will kill me never.

For the weakness gives me strength each day,
Breaking yet re-enforcing my faith in life.
For the weakness deflates my swollen my pride each day,
Pushes me back one step, still taking me ahead in time.

There, not probably at the pinnacle of my time,
I don’t see the twists and turns upcoming.
But his strength, today my weakness,
Shall one day be overcomed, before things become BECOMING.

-Stuti

A painting at the museum


Her inspiration inspired,
She gazed at a painting in the room.
Her imagination ignited,
She observed how the painting was groomed.

There in the painting sat a man with his arms folded,
His eyes at the onlooker, he as if stared at nobody,
She looked back at him and tried to understand the look in his eyes,
Which as if talked to everybody.

She asked him some questions,
None of them he replied.
She told him some stories,
Hoping that all of them he’ll memorize.

Next day she again went back to the museum
To look at the same painting,
Second painting from left it was,
And there it still sat, untouched, unrelenting.

She again told the man some stories,
Asked him questions more,
She stared at him for some time,
And he stared back some more.

This routine, it went on for some days,
And the manager started being amused,
He but chose to ignore the matter,
He started observing the girl bemused.

One day after a month,
A pretty lady in a red dress bought the painting.
That evening when she walked in and did not see the man,
She closed her eyes, prayed, walked away, ran.

The manager went behind to understand this all,
Went behind her and caught up with her around the mall.
She stared at him
Then told him her story at once-

She only hoped the man in the painting,
Would see a beautiful wall in a big drawing room,
And witness stories big and small,
For that she thought was his destiny, a reason for his gloom.
Her stories, she said, were just a practice for him,
For the world was big and scary,
Her questions to him were only a rehersal for him,
For the world was filled with queries.

Confused, the manager walked back to the store,
And saw a little boy talking to a lady in another painting.
He smiled, beemed, and winked at the lady,
For now he hoped he knew the story and the sequence WHOLE.

-Stuti

Planned, not sorted!!


She expected great things out of their lives,
She wanted to paint their house together.
She bought some lamps and lights for it,
She wanted to get some rugs and some leather.
She planned this all and planned some more,
Ideas many, feelings galore.

Her thoughts of new, her thoughts of old,
One day she went to the market to research-
She liked this one, but the other one too,
Her heart couldn’t decide what first.

And just like that, after so much preparation,
Time went and one month passed.
And just like that another month passed
And more time rolled over.

Confused, she decided to revisit her plans,
Find out gaps, if any.
And this was when, it just struck her,
Though planning perfect, and sorting done,
In her life she still did not have a trustworthy ANY.

-Stuti

A Journey romantically traversed.


A feeling wetter than water,
An emotion drier than sand,
A touch as soothing as a baby’s,
Some things ended before they began.

An impression as lasting as imprint on dried cement,
A memory lasting forever,
A tussle very mean,
All meant to end ultimately and last actually never.

A fervor so feverish,
It would leave you feeling drained,
All these and many more,
Emotions not mundane.

She read this poem and looked through her soul for emotions all these,
Quite surprised, she scanned herself and found traces of every and each.
She smiled and smirked at these nuances umpteen,
It was now that she saw she too was travelling a romantical journey one cannot avoid or BREACH.

-Stuti

Dots connected…


A memory, a fairy tale
A thought process, a wish.
A hope, a despair,
The ecstasy, a bliss.

A girl, so pretty,
A feeling, so deep.
An idea, a nitty gritty,
Two tickets, one empty seat.

A prayer, so silent,
Yet wishes, each true.
The plight, so painful,
Each soul, paying his dues.

A friend, a listener,
His patience, a virtue.
Advice, so simple
And rules, bind you.

These words, little random,
But intention, rightly aligned.
Trust me, all dots connected,
One’ll get a story very very FINE.

-Stuti

An answer different


So many people-
All in different situations in life
Yet uniting in at least one or the other ways.
Their charm unique, each with their own aura,
Their life, unknowingly intertwining with one another
They live in this world anyway.
So much so that you never even know
if the person next to you in a bus could be someone you’ll adore!!

These people so varying in their manners and habits,
Charm her each minute.
There varieties in their practice,
They itch her with something in it.

She looks at the road and asks herself the reason of the gravel,
She looks at the sun and asks herself the reason of the yellow.
She breathes in the air and questions to herself the mystery of the peace,
She wonders at her life and gapes at its mellow.

The brights and dulls,
The shadows, the mulls,
The pinks, the purples,
As if ask her questions-
She is asked, she replies,
On facts she relies,

But only some day does she hope to give an answer that she feels does not comply,
With rules, with protocols, with treaties and all the laws,
An answer to these and to all other others,
Without any fear, and not in black and white,
NO not in any ink and yet millions of minds it should IGNITE.

-Stuti

The joy of an innocent smile


A baby smiles not knowing the complications of life
A baby smiles not knowing the future of time
He smiles not knowing his pain, his day
He smiles enjoying the game he plays.
My smile I wish was just like a baby’s-
Unaffected, unmatched, happy and chirpy.
Relaxing, yet draining, yet long and worthy.
I play, I tire, I retire
I sing, I dance, my wings catch fire.
I smile, I laugh, I curtly give gestures
I still can’t manage a smile so I just let her be.
Oh smile! Be kind, be effortless
Be good, stay forever, so evil times may hurt less.
Dear baby, please teach me, and guide me so your smile inspires me,
Coz a smile lights up the world, it makes you shine, spreads joy and sometimes leads to a better DESTINY.

-Stuti