Perhaps

Perhaps my words have crossed all barriers,

for what I feel doesn’t need any carriers,

I have grown in between my words over the years.

To be heard, I don’t need to get  loud,

I ain’t waiting here for a response from the crowd.

Just passing by like a tune on the Oud.*

*Oud- A small handheld string instrument.

 

Perhaps the world I envision is long gone,

I see no colours, only a monotone.

I know a few things which only I have known.

Everything around me has melted in one,

don’t ask me for answers, for I have none.

may be my vision is a subject for revision.

 

Perhaps I am letting too loose, or holding too tight,

crouched alone in a dark corner or shining too bright.

Trust me, without dark there is no light.

Discovering and forgetting it all again,

I am simply exploring the waters of life’s main.

No surprises, nothing hidden, I will come plain.

 

– Mayank Mishra (Sahar)

 

 

 

 

What I do ?

What I do is,
I step into a stranger’s shoes,
and walk along finding the clues.
I see, I hear and talk like him
I be him, am him, belong to him.
He may be painter, a soldier or a killer,
I have been both pious and sinner.
I see through your eye,
The same ground the same sky.
But wrought with perceptions of my own,
Things I see, to you I have shown.
Strung in the harmony of words,
I will narrate you the chirping of birds
Like crackling of galaxies, a herd of herds.
Drop the honeyed sun in the ocean
Or set upon entire worlds in motion.

What I do,
Is I speak a language,
of a universal syntax.
Please do correct me if I am lax,
I do not mean to impose,
I just don’t talk in prose.
If you are looking for patterns,
You won’t find any.
There is not one but one too many.
I simply plough in the mind field,
some times sowing ,others slashing.
Seeds in the corners of the unknown minds.
Shall they grow up to be a labyrinth ?
Or remain just seeds.
How much of what I say is true ?
It is all up to you.

What I do is,
I reflect you in my lines.
Read your life in between them,
In one I have lived many lives.
I like to shuffle between them.
Moving between you I study you.
Unknown, I live among you.
Long after I am gone and my bones are interred.
My verses shall be read, my songs sung, my poetry heard.
I shine in your dreamy eyes.
I reveal the truth behind your lies.
What I do is I read, not books.
But smile,frowns,faces and looks.

What I do is,
I bend the rules.
Even make them break them.
Sometimes I have to remake them.
My characters are real,
the scenes and my experiences.
The sights are really surreal.
A lot of wrong turns, not mere events.
In the pitch dark night.
I will describe the light
For you I will shine bright.
Is what I do !

– sahar

the featured picture is a copyright of ©Prabal Pandey , a professional photographer and traveller. you can see his photo album at https://m.flickr.com/#/photos/prabalpandey/

I have been there..!

I was lost in deeper pursuits,

in canopied labyrinths and mountain blues

looking for life in larger pictures,

while it rested in the mildest details.

 

I was lost in luxuries and leather,

life greeted me in simplicity and feather

i have shifted names and lives

tamed spirits and stripes,

 

i have been a wonderer

neither lost or found…

rumoured a great mysteries,

formed  a million grounds

 

I have tested faith and God,

and found them dispensable

of all things that happen to us,

only we are responsible.

 

I have been to the other side,

and we are not alone.

Long after even when we are dust,

they shall never be gone.

 

 

 

  •    sahar

 

I know.

I know,

When I am writing,

What I feel.

Or is it simply to heal

A wound, an emptiness.

I know when I am writing,

for love or for lust.

I know and I must,

When I am writing.

There are eyes,

pointing everywhere.

And I am all yet none

I know I am the one

who deals in

games of persuasion.

But I am all,

that was and shall be,

because I know

when I am writing.,

the truth of the fact.

Or revealing more lies,

It all comes around

with the process of destruction

we shall reap on ourselves

and because of it.

I know I am writing,

and it all is merely a giant wheel,

and I am a tiny cog

stuck in this system of deals.