Windows

Windows show myriad colors of light,
Out of place in the dark hours of night,
Out of place sweet perfumes enticing,
In brothels filled with stench agonizing.

Her make up covers hostile storms of the desert,
But through sugar coated windows a bitter refusal you see,
She refuses to give in to the arid realities of life.
But travellers shut windows lest the world might see.

Eager travellers love the mirage of the oasis,
Looking for hazy love through their tiny windows,
That show them a tree and a shade,
But not the parched expanse of the landscape.

Windows stare at you through windows,
Looking right into the blunt truth of life,
Running away from that ever flowing love,
For there is nowhere else to go.

Crumpled Paper

In a dark corner lies a messy crumpled paper.

A wind can blow it away without listening.
A fire can reduce it to ash before it can talk.
Ruthless stomping shoes can crush it.
Proud ignoring eyes, its worthlessness, can mock.

But a light of a poem is more than a reward,
That only the eyes of that spirit can applaud,
Whose fingers cared to uncrumple it to life.

She

Dewdrops sit pretty on blades of grass,
Waiting for the sun to take them away,
She comes out shying the blades astray,
Mesmerised. Dewdrops wish they could stay.

She wonders away towards the ocean blues,
In the dark, the blue sea washes the pupils of her eye.
The cold shy moon is only content to disappear,
As her fingertips touch it, amidst the water hues.

She sits, She speaks, She ponders, She laughs,
How I wish you knew what she meant.
For you know not the mind, seeing the body,
Not the depth of the sea through its surface.

For she dreams of the night sky far above,
Of twinkling beads in a blue saree,
Of the steady sure beats of a serene rainfall,
Of snow-white flowers atop a massive tree.

She’ll let you in, as far as the smiles,
She’ll let you in as far as the words she says,
You’ll guess their meanings sitting outside,
But there’s a secret world she has inside!

Hope

Underneath the smallest Gulmohar tree,
I saw the most enormous fire,
Withering the leaves stem and trunk,
It burnt the plant’s high desire.

Wind blew the brown leaves away,
The stem stood there all dark and grey,
Left in the summer heat to simmer,
It had lost to the hot blazes’ ire.

More wrong I couldn’t have been.
Soon I saw a small new green leaf’s sheen.
I know now even massive fire can’t cope,
With that little thing called … hope.

The Moment

Face to face, amidst a sudden subtle breeze,
The wind blew her hair away,
And then light from nowhere on land,
Shone upon her face,
Like a clear lake on a sunny day.

The wind receded slowly, then,
But only after a hurricane,
Had blown me away.

Constraints

I'm confined in the suffocation of my constraints.
Your presence pervades all my thoughts.
A large distance keeps us cold, keeps us apart,
But there's warmth in a dream that I kindle in my heart.

Uncertainty

I lean my chest on this strong wind,
I outstretch my arms on this tall cliff.
Lest I stop, I will live as long as it lifts.

Yet I lean on its insecure comfort, in vanity.
For I am secure in the knowledge of futility,
Of standing here without the wind.

Delivering the undeliverable

Its not possible to peek inside a mind,
But Just surmise and gauge intents,
Like the undercurrents in a lake.

A look, a touch or a loving hug,
Can convey much more,
And even move you in its wake.

But that hug was a push in the well,
And I felt a tornado brewing there.
Now i know just how much you care.

Koustubh's Domain

Welcome to Koustubh's Domain!

I am Koustubh Moharil, from Bangalore, India.
This blog is under construction, but until its completely ready please feel at home