An End

Once upon a time,

A fairy tale came undone,

as gradually as the seasons change,

as surely as life ends.

That was the beginning.

Like a rope knotted

together from strands of wispy threads

becomes frayed

at the beginning and the end,

the neat middle being stretched taut,

Only to be torn apart–

Like some clichéd couple

Beloved in separation,

Faithful in their fragile deceptions;

Or like watching an old film,

Repeated with increasing wariness,

(Deception leads to faith)

And an incomplete darkness waits.

 © Geetakshi Arora , July 21, 2013

Presence

There it is again:

Creeping along the driveway,

Through the waiting dust,

Amidst the fallen Neem leaves:

A bizarre concreteness enveloped

By dark green:

A world of miniscule effects.

A lady waits,

Shining with her new dress:

Deep purple, like a rare twilight kiss;

And there is that trusted friend,

An umbrella, broken and black

Hides in a corner;

Inconspicuous,

Ignored till the next rain–

A silent companion

To the lonely wall,

With repainted cracks:

A welcome to be remembered,

Yes, it seeps through the cracks,

Like a trusted friend,

Without invitation.

An accepted betrayal,

Goes a long way

© Geetakshi Arora

July 18, 2013

White Wind

Flying sprays of wispy white


Kiss gently the brown tanned trunk; 


Dull eyes,


An extinguishing smile


a painted sky;


Stroke upon stroke


On an empty canvas;


A single leaf,


Sometimes saves a dying life


Loveless, the misery ends, 


Taking with itself


That final smile. 


A final fall, 


On a blanket white


A whirlwind of tears


Followed by a smile


A triumphant laugh,


Of death that strikes


When a painted life, 


Torn, blows by

© Geetakshi Arora

 July 15, 2013

A Broken Story

Magical colours,

Swirl in the loving wind,

That caresses them slowly,

That kisses them slowly

Attached to the centre, and yet so free–

So free, to fly away when they want to,

So free, and yet they stay because they love to.

They love those kisses, those gentle caresses,

They love that beautiful wind, the pleasant wind 

That life shows them through hues old and new.

Wave upon wave of windy silence

Interrupts the happy mixing of colours old and new

Faster and faster,

They break apart,

Falling on the ground, 

Bespattered with mud,

Smelling of nothing like that wind

That was destroyed in that storm:

A storm that came silently and swept away all,

Separating the axle from the wheel:

Broken, both lie and lying

About their myriad stories, die

July 14,2013

© Geetakshi Arora

Breaking Away

Smoke-filled clouds,

empty of rain

pretend otherwise;

dry spells continue in a monotonous drone

and a tiny bell,

clangs all the time:

a plate falls to the ground,

breaking like a wave;

it vibrates, unbreakable,

reflects a face, perhaps distorted;

a hand reaches out to that face,

distorts it further:

This is love of a kind.

There. It needed to be said

But it's over now...

I lost it somehow

These lines,

They smell of numbness.

Stale, brown leaves

crushed underfoot by shining shoes:

another distorted image,

of another fading day

© Geetakshi Arora, July 1, 2013