Yellow bird


Oh! Bird! Oh! Yellow bird! To where did you fly?

Gliding through the air, swimming across the sky?

Would we meet again? Maybe chat a little?

Share the stories of clouds and how in sky they lay littered?

I’ll tell you the tales of chaos, mess and confusion,

Greed, pleasure, money, loneliness and seclusion…

Of happiness and sorrows,

Useless hopes of better tomorrows,

Of unanswered questions and unexplained meaning

of living, dying and dreaming.


Oh! Bird! Oh! yellow bird! Where have you gone?

Come back! Maybe chat a little? I sit here sad and torn.


The painting

The brushes drenched in colour,

Playing with jolly rainbows,


Seemingly so happy,

So adept at concealing what lies beneath,

A broken heart that mourns the absence of the colourless water,

So long he had rebuked,

So many times he had taunted,

For being devoid of hues,

For being way too plain,

And silently she had cried,

Then silently she had left,

And now nobody knows for how long the brush has wept.

Grieve no more, oh heart!

Sometimes I lay under the night, gaze upon a star,
Conceal a forgotten past, grieve upon a scar,
Some mistakes were made, not so cruel, not too intense,
But in arrogance and ignorance, that remain too huge to make a sense.

The footprints of those missteps, lay buried under time,
Too distant, too deep, unlikely to be exposed,
But what about the heart that stay frozen under guilt?
Will I recover? Will I forget? Will my shattered heart be rebuilt?

“Grieve no more, oh heart! Don’t let yourself be burnt,
Some mistakes have to be made, some lessons have to be learnt,
Some decisions, some choices are meant to leave you contrite,
Because unless you know what’s wrong, how will you know what’s right?”


A little

A little

When there’s nothing you can do but beg a little,
not for money, not for fame, not for love, and for pain,
but for the unbinding confusion that rests in your mind,
And you try to clear it out but there’s nothing you can find.

When there’s nothing you can do but weep a little,
exposing the tears that come right from the heart.
spending the dark nights with swollen wet eyes,
possessing an obsidian smile covered with fake sweet lies.

When there’s nothing you can do but laugh a little,
covering the deep core wounds, that rest in your heart,
when the whole world rush and you stand alone
expecting some peace, some of your answers, but still those remain completely unknown.

When there’s nothing you can do but share a little.
with whom you wonder and how you think
and your heart continues to bleed, you know you can’t hold
you turn to yourself,you pour them out,just to yourself, just to your soul.

When there’s nothing you can do but pray a little
every time, everywhere, when you ask how to smile,
in the darkest corner of nights, when your state is fragile,
in the complete endless blankness when your mind has no word,
and when the faint voice of your conscience echoes unheard,
when you stand alone on the road, fighting in the night,
when you make futile efforts, that deepen your plight,
sit for a while, rest in quiet.
What can you do when you don’t know what’s right?