Category: Poetry



The Address

Wool-gatherer | 3 Aug 2010, 3:39am

A star traveling across the sky
In the formless ominous space
There is no map of the universe
No lamp guide to distance

“Where is the house of the friend?”
The traveler asked at the birth of the moon
And the moon the orb of powdered light
Said in the softest tones of memory

“Before the house of the friend
is the planet of sparkling music
stop there as it flows through you
to reach there slide through that fold of space
just by the drowning crimson supernova”

the traveler looked around and asked again
“Where is the home of the friend?”
said the moon, “In the direction of my gaze”

- A Tribute to Sohrab Sepehri

PS: I'm Back!


 

At work after 7:30PM

Wool-gatherer | 14 Jul 2006, 7:29pm
 

The air conditioner whirring

Clickety-clicks of tactile feedback keyboard

Maybe a flip of a page or pages somewhere

Jangling of a bunch of keys

Moans of adjustable seats

Ah the chair on wheels rolls

The murmur must be them office trolls.

Current Music: As described above

 

A Call

Wool-gatherer | 28 Jun 2005, 8:07pm

Don



Current Mood: Cold
Current Music: U2- Vertigo

 

Darkness, my old friend

Wool-gatherer | 26 Apr 2005, 1:25am

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My journey through this tunnel,

Now slowly approaches the end.

The longest swords of light, 

And the darkest wisps fight,

To their territory defend .

 

Irony, life



Current Mood: Thoughtful
Current Music: Simon & Garphunkel - The Sound of Silence

 

Jasoosi

Wool-gatherer | 7 Jan 2005, 6:15am

 

Rukaawat keliye khed hai.

Chaar Deewaariyon mein ek ched hai.

Kompyuuter ki khidkiyon ke bhi kaan hote hain,

Bas behre toh sirf insaan hote hain.

hint: translate to yinlish... crossword award , heeere i come :D



Current Mood: Dumb
Current Music: Aaaj amaraiya ke talve talayia

 

Still Crawling

Wool-gatherer | 30 Oct 2004, 6:14am

Caterpillar dreams

Turbid waters

SOS screams

Life in quarters.

 

 



Current Mood: Confused
Current Music: In my heart - Moby

 

First Jab

Wool-gatherer | 2 Oct 2004, 11:14am

Empty words and hollow phylactery.
Life, there is no purpose to it,
There is not purpose to this parchment.
Stain, i'm told, colours character,
beauty, pristine debilitating
My pen dare not smear with splatter.

Yet i succumb to the voice of the sinister,
For the universe tends towards chaos.

Ere, i present to you my disturbed space,
To wittness the ravages of disgrace,
Here she lies wordless and tainted,
My virgin, violated.

There is nothing more dibilitating than an empty canvas staring back at you saying ,"you can't paint a thing!" . - Van Gogh (not sure)

 



Current Mood: Bored
Current Music: Darksides - Paul Oakenfold

 
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