Monday, June 20, 2011

If I could !

First of all, I wanted to know ur reviews about replacing the blog name from "when heart speaks" to "A smoke & a cup of coefee". Actually, from some of the days there is raining in almost all the major zones in India. And believe me its quite romantic. And I m finding my smoke with a cup of coeffe quite lovely than earlier. That is the technical reason behind changing the blog title.

And here it goes a romantic composition of words. These were roaming throughout my thoughts since quite a few days ( actually, from the day the rain started falling these feelings became more stronger). Not taking too much time here it goes finally:-

If I could just embrace you once,
And feel the warmth of your arms.

If I could lock my lips with yours,
And seal the deal of romance.

If I could look into your eyes,
And see the same passion raging wild.

If I could have you by my side,
And whisper sweet nothings to you.

If I could entwine your hands in mine,
And walk along the sunny seashore.

If I could be with you for a day,
And that day would never end.

If I could, I would let you know.
My dear, I would never let you go
If I could !
[ Image Courtesy : ]

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Life inside an empty ciggerette packet

Drama, poetry, lust, gluttony, sex, frustration, depression, restlessness and those smokes of desire swirls like venomous snakes. The night is dark, the urban haze is creating cacophony. The shadows of death linger on. Heart burns slowly, the brain getting seduced involuntarily. Hallucinations, forgetfulness becomes your only acquaintance. You keep walking through the misty valleys, unknown territories, and those strange boundaries.

You take a long drag, puff out your agony. You aren’t born lonely, you are molded my destiny. You may not be the saddest but your sadistic way makes you an escape. You crave for smiles and love but your mind never accepts the approaching brightness. You love to stay amid darkness. The smokes slowly fade down in your room but the smell lingers on.

You aren’t frightened by skeletons; you become an urban ghost. Your infatuation becomes your love. Your cough accompanies you everywhere, every time. You just need no reason to inhale dusk. You become active after a short fag, your heart quivers but your mind smiles. Your fingers stink, your body becomes cold, and you still love to arouse yourself with those finished sticks. The butt! You love to kiss it. You aren’t satisfied till you reach the end. Your wait for the next never diminishes. You can go on and on. Nothing soothes your soul more than those killing white air. 

You talk about pink moon; you never miss a chance to appreciate those inglorious thin long pieces of desire. You crave for them at night, you can’t work without them, you become helpless, you crawl like a dying insect, and you never give up. You hate to see those burned cigarette butts resting unattended and those used match sticks dirtying your preserved melancholy.

Suddenly, the wind changes direction. The haze becomes fire. There’s no life within an empty cigarette packet but we hardly try to peep inside…

And though, nobody is complaining. Why should I ???