A mere thought

They have stories to tell and i have to their tales to hear, i used to be a writer but now, i write feedbacks on the works of others. motivations are leading me to cipher and i call life to be more agile.

The Times Square

Flames of concrete burn in the vastness of the sky,

There are beams reflecting the glitter of the eyes,

A jungle emerges of many lines and many a dots,

Creating images that evoke amusing thoughts,

Creatures crawling and speeding on its feet,

Dragons, angels and demons roaming freed,

Dense and tense, like the notion of the hell,

Yet the magic casts a heaven bounding spell,

Emotions swaying on the melody of the lights,

Astound the weak hearts with animated strides,

Unleashed by flashes and captivated by glamour,

Beasts built of bricks stand in shining armours,

Titillating the eye and sinfully arousing desire,

With time in its clutches, the square gazes higher and higher.

Thought Collector

I am a thought collector in my own mind,

Of thoughts that lie hidden in a pile of filth and dirt,

Like little gems waiting to be explored and implored,

I am a thought collector, who gathers filth and dirt together,

I filter and clean and polish the lustreless thoughts,

Bringing a shine to the lifeless creations of mind,

I am a thought collector with innumerable collections,

And yet not one can be counted or valued,

They stand in a closet as floating shadows,

And I take glory in those that can’t be glorified.

A Little Letter

Hope debauched by reality becomes real again,

When dreams of you turn me insane and inane,

When the reverie I betrothed threatens a divorce,

I write to you with the hope of seeking recourse,

Little by little, letter by letter, I write this letter,

To you my dear, sitting in a country far from here,

Every tear blotched letter is of a morose hue,

Every ‘I’ I write tells the woes of I sans you,

With a drop dangling at the edge of my lashes,

I see your smiles in curves and frowns in dashes,

Every crease on the paper screams an appeal,

Every ink stain is the story of the pain I feel,

Deep as the ocean and shallow like my smile,

I compose words that I know you would like,

But my back tired and my letters have bent,

Counting on my cheeks all the tears spent,

Fearful of the fate it is destined to meet,

I seal every letter with a quivering kiss,

And spend my days with my eyes on the door,

For a little bird to bring a little letter home…