Alone I walk...

In the moonless night
Under a cloudless sky,
I get along, alone,
I don’t know why…

The air is so windy,
The sky so black…
And I am all alone
On a night so Dark…

My Heart is so achy
And makes only one cry-
I can hear nothing,
But its desire to fly…

So I walk alone
In search of light-
For I know that
The Day will be so bright…

-Janhavee

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The Setting Sun...

Every Evening,
Before the darkness turns darker
And the sky is inflamed,
The Sun leans to the night.

And before going
Beyond the scarlet mountains,
He sings a song.

I feel
He laughs on me
And says- “Just another day has passed”
And in grief I retort,
“One more day is lost...”

The Sun is happy
For He knows the reason of His being,
Teases me for I can’t see what he is seeing –
“Satisfaction”- The True Joy Of Living…

-Janhavee

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© All Rights to this and all poems published in this Blog are reserved. Reproduction of any kind without prior permission of the Wirter is not allowed.

The Talk of a Local Train...

With that day of might
We had lost our light
But not everything has ended with the night...

That day I stopped.
I stopped with a powerful blast
The men, The bombs and The blast
And then the blast after blast after blast....
Seven moments that ended with seven blasts
And then, there was another blast....
The Blast of Humanity,
Which is still alive...

The Eyes are still crying
Without a drop of Tear,
And the lips in silence,
Tell the story of a frozen fear...

That Day,
Like a caring mother
I stood by them
And I'm still with them-
With my innocent Children...

The Anguish of the Anger
Is not yet over
The signs of Danger
Will live forever...

Just like the Arabian Sea-
All quiet on the Shore
And so violent in the deep...

Or like the Monsoon Winds-
So cool and full of life
And yet so difficult to read

Or like me-
So tolerant and Caring
Overloaded with Trust
and yet in search of a Breath...

All that seems well, is not so well...
All that seems still, is not so still...

I can see it...
I can hear it...
I can feel it...
The fear of Terror is still in the air...

The Dark night has gone away,
But the light is not yet yet clear,
And the Day is not yet here....

The fear of Terror will vanish away,
But the memories will be forever
And then I'll stand still at least once a year...
And pray again and again...
For my innocent Children...

-Janhavee

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© All Rights to this and all poems published in this Blog are reserved. Reproduction of any kind without prior permission of the Writer is not allowed.

I believe in Dreams

It’s too rare
That everything is fair
Many will complain
But I won’t care
And I will dare
Because- “I have a Dream…”

So I won’t skip walking

Then
Let the hills be steeper
Or the rivers deeper
Let the light disappear
And night be darker...
I won’t skip walking
Because- “My Dreams call me…”

In the night
When crickets set to cheer
My lonely footsteps,
The only sound to hear
Still I won’t fear
Because, “My Dreams accompany me…”

Like stormy nights or windy waves
Can’t stop the ancient Sailors
Or like a tiny Rover
In the midst of a roaring river,
I’ll continue my fight
For “My Dreams are my power…”

Clocks and watches…
Days and Months…
Keep on poking me
I may have nobody with me
To cut my way
Through the harsh sea
Only “My Dreams will always help me…”

But then, I know,
If I look around,
You will say
“Here are we…”

-Janhavee

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Dreams Calling...

I have seen Limited people
In this Limited world
Living in their Limited houses
Having a Limited glimpse
Of this Limited sky

I wonder,
What makes them fly?

It must be a Dream...
And, what do they dream?

A Life, that is long,
A Relation, that is strong?
Or a Destiny-
That they wish to come along...

I too, have a Dream...

So I look up at the night sky
And I see the Smiling Stars
But they don’t show me the way...

So again, I look at the sky
I see the Birds fly high
they, to smile, but say-

“ Oh Come On!
You can do it - just try...”

- Janhavee

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The lost Colours...

Yesterday morning,

The Cupboard, I was cleaning

When I found an old box

And I found my memories back....

And I found

Some dried colour-bottles,

Broken brushes, palates and pencils.

They looked at me,

Smiled and asked silently,

“Have you noticed?

Look here-

The bottles are dried

But the colour is there...”

- Janhavee

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© All Rights to this and all poems published in this Blog are reserved. Reproduction of any kind without prior permission of the Wirter is not allowed