Reflections

No more mirrors exist

to complicate or communicate,

Memories of crystalline, icy shards

disappear as each slices through

a dying nerve,

where cold, sluggish blood flows still;

Each step a march against itself

and thoughts crowd a sleeping mind:

the first wind of february spring,

that overrated kiss in the rain,

coveted hugs that remain incomplete,

and those daily trips to a world of pain;

these thoughts and more crowd,

jostling each other for space

as if the sleeping mind were a tiny room

closing in upon itself,

rooting to lose something

it took years to build;

Destroyed blocks remain estranged

waiting to be called to life

by a sluggish vein–

A successful play at last;

A glint of steel:

It's uncomplicated.

©Geetakshi Arora

February 20, 2014

Wasted Flames

Burning in anguish,

it awaits its time;

A beggar yearns for food

for years before it dies;

Fake water is never enough,

It is but a reflection

of tattered hearts

that astound none but

the fated face looking outside;

Royal mansions are unworthy of souls 

that yearn for butterflies

and green caterpillars on yellow leaves;

The fire sweeps away everything,

consuming itself in a flame that used to be burnished gold:

It is a mere dyed orange now;

Now it is polluted with grey soot 

from burning bones;

Mere charcoal,

mere memories:

Dispensable;

Forgotten

©Geetakshi Arora

February 9, 2014

Linear Shift

Lines and dots

are matters of perspective;

Storms can be liberating

and peace deceptive;

With harsh words,

love can sometimes be expressed;

And with gentle creativeness, 

worlds can be destroyed:

It takes a word

by something powerful

to cause fires:

Bodies walk across bridges

looking relentlessly forward with vacant eyes,

yearning for something familiar,

yearning for something

to call their own:

A home (even a make-shift one),

a place to rest.

Bloodshot eyes,

gaze ahead,

quite drained of tears

from years of cumulative agony:

Safely trapped in prisons of love

© Geetakshi Arora

January 27, 2014

Breaking into Prisons

It was a rare moment,

a melting away of the past;

like dirty, bitter snow,

the prison dissolved;

Its cold chains breaking

to release something shrivelled up,

something still somewhat alive;

Enraptured, it crashed into a mirror

and broke into a thousand pieces,

which echoed every drop of blood,

and each wasted sigh;

It was a rare moment

of painted beauty;

a canvas of a well-thought

game of deceit.

And so it continued–

Another prison was made

with coloured powder this time;

Scarlet, yellow and green:

Disguised. Beloved.

© Geetakshi Arora

January 26, 2014

Cracks in Smoke

Dissolving in two's and five's,

a naked dream sits untouched,

till it rises up into the sky

leaving behind a burning,

orange darkness that glows

as it throws wild shadows 

on broken walls.

They say embers may cause burns;

But what of burning shadows

that change and disappear

like clouds on the surface of

a frenzied lake,

disappearing and rejoining

like colourful blocks of a child's toy-world?

Misplaced and abused,

the shivering clouds disappear,

extinguishing cooling embers

With an abrupt hiss of miserable tears

©Geetakshi Arora

January 9, 2014