THE LOVE WAS POSTMODERN

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/

WORDS, ALMOST AS THEY FAIL

It happened again

 

Words, sometimes they come

Words, sometimes they run

Words, almost they cram

Words, sometimes they jam

Words, sometimes they make

Words, almost they break

 

It happened again

Yesterday

 

Words they could not tell

What I intended,

To be left on our trail

Words, they seemed to nail,

Failing me before You

This time as well

As me,

Words, almost as they fail,

Sending me to the agonizing wail

 

Words, sometimes they don’t come

Words, sometimes they just run

 

It happened again

Words, for their whole equations

Again,

Letters could not find combinations

Leaving a trail

Words, sometimes they, too, wail

Words, almost as they fail

 

February 13, 2010

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

A YEAR OR SO, TWO AND HALF DEATHS IN A ROW

A year or so to that flow

Two and half deaths in a row
That crushing, blow after blow
Life, you tried all, stooped so low
Yet I am there, never to bow
What I knew,
Was never unknown
What life forgot,
Was never to be known
What had been sown,
Was never to be shown
Yet I am there,
As I had known
A fistful of this,
A Soulful of that
Words when they flew,
They did know,
Journey to the lost shore,
A known urge to know more
Once to the shore,
They push the door
A shapeless thought,
Comes to the fore
Words call my Soul,
Lost to the More
Lost somewhere, but,
I was only there
Eyes in the hollow,
Tears just to swallow
The thoughts identify,
Realize and follow
Words sate thirst,
Get to the Soul
Unstoppable,
Tears get the brush,
Palms make a rush,
To recollect that,
Moment of rebirth
I am still there, thus,
Becomes known again
Hands full of copious flow
Holding the so known, own
Face of my Soul in the glow
The thought full of rebirth
A conscious full of worth
A year or so to that flow
Two and half deaths in a row
Yes, words, they now flow
Thoughts, they now grow
And, I am here, again, never to bow
Nothing now remains unknown

But, something seems yet to be known

May 5, 2011

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