THE NIGHT HAS COME AFTER A LONG TIME

The night has come after a long time
To sit again, by the side of my head

Looks like the talk will be mutual
Something, the years have not seen

There is much to say and hear
Wish the hour now lasts longer

Such a night has come after ages
That didn’t betray its commitment

Like the other nights, even today,
Yes, there is no pillow of sleep

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THE RAINBOW THIS EVENING

It was coloured fresh,

Like the rainbow,

It was so earthly,

With the fragrance,

Meeting was mutual,

Like it always had been,

Ends of the horizon,

Talking to each other,

And to the places,

They met on the trip,

Spread across the life,

Coloured by nature,

It was so connecting,

Words had their way,

Finding the meaning,

Following the silence,

Making it brighter,

The rainbow this evening,

Had the colours of hope,

With your scent in the air,

Reuniting with memories,

When we talked,

Of colours, of life, of us..

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

SOMETIME, YOU STILL FEEL THE TOUCH OF DAYS

Sometime, it keeps you waiting, but,
Sometime, it fakes everything, but,
Sometime, it lets you down, but,
Sometime, it’s about feeling so, but,

You still want to see the point
You still want to take the chance
You still feel the need to go back
You still feel the touch of days

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THESE RAINDROPS ARE LIKE YOUR MEMORIES..

These raindrops are like your memories,

Sometimes,

They come to heal this burning mind,

And sometimes,

They make the heart so restless,

That the falling rain,

Leaves me with the ‘feeling of not being’..

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

MEMORIES, AGAIN, HAVE COME BACK FROM A TRIP TO THAT HOUSE

Come on! Let’s do what this mind conveys, my soul says
Memories, again, have come back from a trip to that house
An address that was, once, life and call of every passing day

Come on! Let the mind’s call be heard, my soul says
Steps are already moving to the path, taking me along
The journey, too, is similar, like I would feel one with

Come on! Let’s relive those memories again, my soul says
Let’s sit with no worries of us, under the cover of those days
Let’s talk what we used to do, let’s create the moments again

Come on! Let’s go to the place these memories have come from
Even if I have come this far, belongingness to that home remains
I had begun from there, in those days; I shall remain of the place

Come on! Let’s listen to this mind that is running to the home
Company of unruffled thoughts is there, waiting, arms spread
Come on! Let’s do some sensible things again, my soul says

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

SUCH DECISIONS WERE NEVER FOR YOUR OBEISANCE

If possible,

Don’t let there be,

The moment of such decisions,

Imposed on you, selfishly,

Inflicting and demanding,

With no care for you,

Having no thoughts of you,

See where your peace is,

Find the harmony of your soul,

O’ life, know where your spirit is,

Don’t listen to such decisions,

Yes, you cared for,

But such decisions,

Were never for your obeisance,

What if,

Your thoughts still go back,

What if,

Your thinking still comes to a silence,

If possible,

Don’t pain yourself anymore,

Don’t hurt your peace anymore..

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

BEYOND THE LIMITS, BUT TIED TO ITS OWN ATTACHMENTS

Sky, open, infinite and detached,

And restricted by its own attachments,

Pulls towards itself naturally,

With its contradictions,

Sometime, with scatter of colours,

Dispersed to the horizon I see,

Sometime, with paused dark clouds,

Fleeing or overstaying their course,

Sometime,
The melody of falling drops passes by,
Giving a piece of music to the soul,

Sometime,
Reminds me of some forgotten pain,

In the moments,
When thinking starts talking to itself,

About the days gone by,

And the life now,

Sky’s openness and stillness,

Seems is like this life only,

Beyond the limits,

But tied to its own attachments..

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

THOUGHTS..CALLIGRAPHY OF THAT UNSUNG INK..

Life is the relative presence of metathoughts
Death is just a relative absence of thoughts

Happening as it is, happened as it was
Scripting the ride, lost in the celebrated void

Caught in the hide, away to the treacherous jive
The vibrating nonsense, the agitating moondance

Trespassing the soliloquy of you and me and us
Somewhere to the known territory beyond this life

Away from the amorous wilderness, a journey
To the metathoughts where all that is you and me

Where all that is to aspire is the thought of us
Where all that is to be spoken is only through the silence thus

Where absence or presence doesn’t make sense any more
Where betrayal or acceptance doesn’t come to the fore

Life is the relative presence of thoughts of us
Death is the absolute absences of thoughts of us

Happening it is, for-ever it is to be
Air melts, outlines dissolve..

The song gets the spontaneous tune,
A flow,
Weaving the magic of your unspoken words
Attuned to the calligraphy on that unsung ink
Charting the territory of the virgin wilderness

Eyes dig deep, go deeper, to find nothing, but
To be lost again in the magic of us
That tells me,
The beginning of you and me, reliving the joy of
That eternity of us..

Where are you has never been the question
For-ever it is to be, the eternity of us, is the
Only proposition..

Why did you do so does make for thoughts
It ceased to be between you and me a long ago
It was to be, and it is between me and me
Straddling my soul,
In thoughts, with metathoughts
To my territory beyond this life..

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

YET THE HARMONY OF BEING ONE WITH MEMORIES..

It was all but existent yet the harmony of being one with memories was all over his soul; was clearly visible in his thoughts.

There was the sense of loss that could never be compensated.

There was the absence of the person in him that still haunted.

There was the presence of the void in him that still talked to him.

There was this channel of conversation that still flowed through.

There was this sense of being incomplete that still left its imprint.

There was this hollowness that still sought answers, again and again.

But,

There was now this feeling of being at one with the presence of memories.

There was now this satisfaction that rendered the questioning not so desperate.

There was now the presence of his ‘Self’ within his ‘Soul’ once more to guide him.

There was now the channel of communication with Absence in the moments of longing.

There was now this sense of being on the journey to become what he needed to be.

There was now this completeness in his thoughts that it used to be when he had begun.

It is non-existent, still he feels it moving inside him, day after day, taken over by ‘their’ thoughts, sustained by the moments that were so few to count yet so deep to scale, driven by an identity that could find its ‘Self’ back.

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

THE LATE NIGHT BEWILDERMENT

Gloomy and dark,
With,
That sudden spark,
Looking for,
That ‘something’,
In the flow of,
Delayed thoughts, and,
Absent moments,
When,
Not even,
The desperate urge,
Makes any sense,
When,
The sense,
Sucks the sensibility,
Yet again,
In that,
Late night bewilderment,
When,
I seek you,
Again,
From the dark,
For my gloom,
To get that spark,
To get the meaning,
Of that ‘something’
Yet again,
In that,
Late night bewilderment,
When sleep,
Becomes an insensitive ‘friend’
When solitude,
Comes not to comprehend,
That,
Why, I still, seek you
Again, yet again,
In that,
Late night bewilderment,
That,
Why, you still,
Delay my thoughts,
That,
Why, you still,
Make for my absent moments,
In the,
Late night bewilderments..

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