How I miss being held in hands
and being carried every place
How I miss being grabbed and kissed
and getting chosen every time
How I miss the laughter I hear
and fights they have for me
Yet I depart alone untouched
with no one helping me
I will drift away far from love
far from you all
Without a aim to the blues
to the heavens above
I wonder is that how you all people meet your end
I wish we will meet somewhere up
like a lost filled up friend.
– Balloon.
When the kid inside you
asks how it’s like to be an adult?
how does it feel to be organised
when your inside is full of chaos
to work and not feel overjoyed
but still being hammered to do it
how does it feel to ignore the colors
when you want to drown in them
to see someone dance like no one is watching
and you are afraid to join because of shame
how does it feel to be keep me caged
when you heart is same like me
but the head tells you to ignore.
White patches on the sky blue
how you float I never knew
chased you as a kid long back ago
thinking how it feels to be like you
to simply float and drizzle away
to look beautiful all the day
I wish I was a cloud beautiful and new
would travel the world seeing every view
but then one day I saw you dark and full of thunders
it frightened me beyond all wonders
to see thunders pierce your heart apart
I vowed that day to never start.
Now I feel we all are clouds
drifting away from the life blue
all wanting to drizzle around somehow
well me.. just want to enjoy the view
I met my friend almost everyday,
he loved jumping and wagging his tail,
he played in mud,
went after butterflies,
slept without a care
and sometimes was lazy as fuck
He was honest
one can just see that by a look in his eyes
But one day I could not find him
and the day after another,
After a troubled week
I came to know of his death
For the first time ever I lost a happy friend
who took all the happiness for a while.
I still remember his jumping.
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layers of colour spread over the palette,
some over her tiny hands,
the way she paints with them is beautiful,
only her tiny eyes will understand,
she said I painted mama,
in her favourite dress,
I wish she was alive,
to tell her it was her best.
Sitting in a coffee shop,
with a beautiful book to read,
seeing the raindrops falling,
all over the leaves,
through the fogged mirror,
something catches my attention,
a little girl rushes in the rain,
with such utter excitement,
she sits at the pavements,
and sails the paper boat,
that glides over the rain tide,
with no one aboard,
the girl sees the boat,
till it’s out of sight,
sighed a beautiful prayer,
with all faith in her might,
and I sit and wonder,
where did we fall apart?,
turning the pages of books,
is that what we really are?
she saw me sitting inside,
signaled me to join,
I learned the paper-boat again,
indeed it sailed pretty fine.
Writings to Heaven 