Let’s go there today, beyond those inhibitions
Life has taken so long and yet there is no word
Wait is a good experience only when it speaks
It sucks when silence forgets how to express
It might have been your soulful decision once
But it has betrayed you for so long that it hurts
You may not express it, but I, too, share its pain
We had walked together when life had a story
We are still walking together, trying to rewrite it
I have my words in place, but it is your time now
Come along the words our souls weaved then
In the worlds where the story had a conscience
I lived my part and I am still living it as my soul
You could not but I never felt any inhibition
It was not that I was strong and you were weak
Probably, words could not fall in place for you
I knew where our worlds were going to take us
I lived your questions all along, like my echoes
But you found yourself trapped by inhibitions
Yes, I was strong enough to see through them
I never asked for your reasons but now I say
Come beyond those inhibitions and reasons
The story that you left there, is still speaking



That night was just the beginning
And the day was its metaphor
Life was brewing something
And living was singing in choir
There were differences still
But harmony was all pervasive
The unknown had its obvious thrill
The known was all so intensive
We met and decided to sit
We spoke and decided to stay
The dark all around was so discreet
That, words easily found their way
The sunshine was so reassuring
That silence found a common point
All those years seemed so enduring
That the souls had a similar viewpoint
Yes, it was indeed a new beginning
With all those charming metaphors
Life, again, was on that curve
And living was ready to ride the verve



You are wearing red
I am in no mood for a blue either
The mood was sentimental yesterday
Life is experimental today
Whether it be a bumpy ride
Or a joyride through your side
Let it get all over you
Painting you in that reddish hue
Let us melt in our stories
Let us dwell in their histories
I want to see that tomorrow
Where it all will be in a yellowish glow
I think it’s what even you would go for
Because I still remember that metaphor
Of that speaking night
When it all sounded so right
Can’t we dance like that again
Shouldn’t we sing like that again
The red is all in the air
And there is no place for a blue memoir
Let’s walk along as we should
With souls bathed together as we could



Love in those heady days
Fulsome with all its heady ways
When she would say it all
When he would do it all
Where he would go
There she would go
There silence had no place
Words were all to fill the space
Love in those heady days
Fulsome with all its heady ways
When it wasn’t planned
When it was on demand
When songs flew together
And souls danced together
Where life never sucked
Where love never ducked
The textbook love romanticized
With all the feelings fantacised
Be it sorrow or tomorrow
It was intended only to grow
Whether a cry on the sly
Or a fury with adrenaline high
He and she would take it all
She and he would never fall
Oh yes love in those heady days
Fulsome with all its heady ways

DTI-1 - Copy




A long time has passed
Let’s sit together again
There, in its silence
In its familiar sounds
There, where,
Words would flow
The heart would listen
Some time,
Through your eyes
Some time,
Through my feelings
Some memories would come afresh
And a few memories anew
It was love,
Or an attachment
We never cared to know
That feeling of being together
Was everything to us
We never felt the need
To know our ‘I’s
Neither we cared to know
Each other’s ‘I’s
Everything seemed within us
That feeling of being together
Is still alive, the way it was
The heart still goes out
Between those trees there
Let’s find some time again
To live again those memories..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/


Love then
Was in the air
Or flowing in your veins
Well, whatever
It didn’t become jugular
Though it always thought
That it was the one
Love then
Was inside you
Or over you
It didn’t speak much
What mattered
Was the word
And its romanticism
Whether it was artistic
Or pushed you into literature
You really didn’t know
All you were concerned
Was about primacy
Of your feelings
And of your individuality
Love then
Was you personified
Giving you solitude
And days of soliloquies
Where you loved to speak
To yourself
With all the smiles
And the momentary pauses
That would creep in
Making you blue
Or making you blush
Love then
Was the last word
Of your longish nights
And the first thought
Of your rushed daybreaks
And of all your teeny vibes
Yes, it was there
Certainly in the air
Even if
It didn’t become jugular

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/


Life, sometimes
Is bizarre
Like curls of your hair
Inviting, comforting
Yet mysteriously silent
Like your words
They speak much
But say nothing
Life, sometimes
Speaks so alienated
Like a story
With no end
Hours went on
Days passed
There is a flow
We both sense
Yet you failed
The two lifes
And many lives
They lived
Life, sometimes
Sounds strange
Like your gaze
But unsure of intent
They speak much
But say nothing
Like curls of hair
They lock me in
Yet leave us out..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/


It’s Spring already                                                                                                   
But I don’t see colours
The landscape is white
The joy is shadowed
And bereft of love
It’s still biting winter

The springtime is here
But bereft of love                                                            
Its yellow is blanching
And in its still shadow
Time has remained
Frozen by a rigid frost

Where is the warmth?
Where did the love go?
Who stole colours?
Who betrayed my Spring?
Teasing me, from depths
The cheerful winter asks

Questions linger
Answers cry to deceive
Memories refuse to leave
Again in a Spring
Robbed of its beauty
Bereft of its love

In the season’s dew
Missing its yellow Hue
My Spring is still cold
And bereft of love
In the wintry dew
The air is now restless

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey–https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/


Like it had been,
The melodrama, that it was,
Was not so sweet
As it was made to be,
The love was postmodern,
And was discreet

The lines were blurred,
The tradeoffs made clear
With the hindsight scripted,
It then had some smear
The sophist saw it near,
Wrote the end of drama then
The existentialist was hit finally,
A soul was deeply violated when..

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/


This pain,
I don’t know,
If it is still central to me
This pain, I live it,
As if
I don’t care for it anymore
My days go with it
I wake up and say goodbye,
To the life on a day,
Not realizing its absence,
Not feeling its presence,
This pain,
I have lived it for so long,
That it ceased to have,
An identity of its own
But I can’t say,
If this pain is still,
Indispensable for me..

The Lonely Thorns..The Lonesome Curves<


©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/