life lines

Act 1

The walks and those talks
Those miles dotted with smiles
Coy, Shy ... Contained
A look miss a beat…Quicksilver Heat
Flickers of Desire
Like moths into the Fire......
cool breeze, cool waves,Smooth white sails
Tranquil Evenings, calm Musings.

Act 2

flashy bikes, solitary lanes long rides ....
geared in overdrive
miles zoom past, adrenalin rushes fast
the wick matures into a flame
moths dies a million... voluble winds,
roll over frenzied waves,Air Over Water,
... a quick kiss
a hasty touch ...and the waves go into a spin.
Madness ... utter Madness,you soar high, high and ... higher
the ballet ... (or is it battle?) ...Air Over Water,
Water In Air
Performance Perfect.
The effect?FIRE!!!
absolute, pure, unadorned raw FIRE!
Nature's applause ...Tranquil evenings solemnly, happily...
steadily unfold the Euphoric
Slow, Dazed Nights ... !

Act 3

the fire engulfs the space...
and hey, it evokes Fear ... of the unknown ... unbeaten ...
And safety is dear,so, mild you play
and run far away,leave the imprints....footprints
want them to fade,lock it up ... forget about It! ... (the Fire!)
well ... do give it a shot ... to forget!
Dreams … (the fire) are foolish, dangerous, they said
and you didn't agree played, you ignited ...
and were still not running for safety,adventure
... the drive ...not ready to conform with them … still there.
Waves lapped, liquid fire invaded your veins ...
and you were, both shaken and stirred
... invited to take it all … give it all
...Invitation of Fire,
End of Existence …
Invitation Denied ...
Existence hugged tight....
and you run and run and
run ...
Dead Pond, Stale Air ...
"Tranquility"You must be kiddin', right?
and then you muse,

"Some Goals Are So Worthy,It's Glorious even To Fail ..."

Copyright © Neerja Yadav


empty out these sleepy eyes
...the heavy lids that droop
the thick lashes that loop,
the liquid that’s full

empty out these sleepy eyes,
unslept these never-ending nights
not a wink,

the climate wrapped on snow melts,
empty out the whiteness

sleepless one-posture nights
empty out the senses
empty out the numbness

climb down those desolate mountains
float through those fogged valleys,
empty out these sleepy eyes,

the dying fires in the wet woods
empty out the warmth
the broken pearls
empty out the beauty

crawling through the memories
nor a shadow at the feet
neither a rain check over the head
empty out the loneliness

the pull and you run
the invisible thread

empty out the bond ...
the sudden rush of air
the cool seeping through the lungs
empty out the vessel,
empty out the breath

"One Last Breath!"

Copyright © Neerja Yadav

conversations with self

After a hard day’s work or long hours of mundane chores, you sit down with certain intentions and then the moment you begin to begin, something clicks and you just don’t know what is that you wish to do? Write a few lines? Sketch something or just listen to some good old favorite number? What is that you intended to entertain yourself with? What is that gives you that peace of senses which is only available with the kind of things you do with passion? No, nothing which you can think of means and looks worth. It feels exactly like your first time on stage, with all the rehearsals and hours gone into the act, when you are finally there in the arc lights, it seems your mind and senses are blank and this isn’t really that important like it seemed while you were praying to get the roles and then preparing of them. Doesn’t life has the same feel? Every time you look into the mirror, the lines on your face seem clearer and there is another face which just watches you watching yourself from that normally un chartered backwaters of your mind. The past has just gone. Went by like dusk to dawn. That’s the way, it is and everybody just has to pay their dues. And, one fine day you realize that there was more to life than the entire mad race, you let yourself fall into. You live and learn and vice versa.

“Another day has passed me by, and there's an island in the sun, To see me through another day in paradise, But there's no reason, there's no rhyme, Here comes the night, Here comes the dreaming, Breathing that eternal love (if that’s the word) in me, Here comes the feeling that I've been waiting here for so long, I've been waiting here for so long. I'm caught in a dream; sometimes it ain't what it seems. I'm all in a daze, can't fight my way out of this maze. I'm looking for clues, and wanting a change in the rules. I'm locked in a cage, acting out on the wrong stage……….”, thats how it feels at times. Almost like, was meant to be somewhere else, another age, another planet or maybe not at all. Ah, did I mention I was quirky? (They say) So tell me, are you afraid, or tranquil with the situation on hand? Might you know how conscious consciousness could grow, Till love that was, and love too blest to be, meet—and the junction be Eternity? Have you reckoned a thousand acres much? Have you reckoned the earth much?Have you practiced so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? Time shall tell and then another river would be back to square one and do you think that would be an evolution, growing up, not in terms of age or the practical maturity but growing towards the sun that is and that was? The first impressions are always feelings, not judgments, judgments would be something you would arrive on, after lotsa analysis which we always tend to do after so many years of hard practical life in the hard winds of world, but feelings are always those feelings which just are no apparent reason, though if seen carefully there would always be some pattern of our personality woven into those and what we really need is to read and capture the exactness of "that" particular feeling, at "that" particular time. That for me is first impression and believe me, it is right, always, if it does gets wrong, it goes on to mean, you misread it, the first time, and analysis is what counts, there, ‘cause it is the power and ability to analyze with detachment without being critical, that makes you conversant with the language the feelings speak in, and then you wouldn’t be wrong in reading them. Detachment of course, is difficult, very difficult especially at times like this when you just get at-home with some things right at the first time. Oops, I tend to get into the mode of philosophizing everything!! Does ageing have anything to do with the maturity and the understanding? I believe not. There are water bodies and there are water bodies. Some are shallow lakes and some deep oceans. Their being old and new has nothing to do with their depth, currents and salinity? Does it? Of course, communion does take into account some practical and social considerations. And then again they are to be thought of depending on the kind of relationship and interaction one is getting oneself into. Not all rivers can reach all oceans directly and be equal. Neither all oceans can reach all shores.

sleepless sleep

long winter nights,
lost shuddering moon,
no sleep...
hey, are You asleep?
cool breeze, the harmonic waves...
the bloomin’ night lily,...
'am I being silly?
the stars on a ride, blackness so wide
the euphoria of the air, takes me there
tipsy without a drop, think you can stop?
high...slightly higher
a step too near
a look, and all that it took and a bit more high
caught in the moonlight
sieving through little shivering green,
taking away the sheen
miss a beat
how does it feel to have a cold heat??
hey, are you asleep?
can I take this leap?
and a step? a jump,a few more leaps,
...take me please, I am yours for keeps!!

Copyright © Neerja Yadav