The Big Wooden bed

As it is, longings never cease.
At the feet of the big wooden bed i feel,
I search sometimes ,A world forgotten
Where hands don't reach.

A Childhood lived and gone
Having done no wrong
So stands the big wooden bed
Its feet havent moved since,not grown,never fed.

Darkness hides its lot to make some joy
Under the big wood trusts his abode.
Loathed in dust,Undiscovered and dry.
Where hands can't reach and time doesn't cry.

Here slept everyone,resting their soul
Yet the walk of youth searches a goal
An Unapproven stand,the bed holds
All alone and old,never found its fold.

DAVIDJEEVRAJ. PUNE. 24062016

Chasing Ice

A mountain covered with ice
No animals and no vice
Streams frozen , Men in desertion
Winter the season of death and dice.
A stony house,with a stable and mare
The fireplace seeks hands to share
Infringing territory has its aversion.
Smoke screams away from the fuming red flare
The ice snarls, seeing their covering,
The blue sky,secrets a saffron hovering.
Be on your way,sighs the diversion
Use some whiskey,hide all suffering.

DAVIDJEEVRAJ. PUNE. 16062016

The Dark Piano

I have forgotten much
I can't rehearse her touch
She the woman with a good fragrance
She played the piano then
The evenings burnt,as musk in sand
Selflessly giving his story in her hands
Lay bare the piano fronting her temperance
Heavy doors bolt remembrance

Dark as it was,it reflected her inverse
Made us make,to hear her,grandeur verse
Parched the throat and thirst made worse.
Sorched her face with a beaming grace.
She left the piano then,through those doors
Had a child of her own,she doesn't owe
The piano awaits her,she doesnt know
Heavy doors latched,enclosured in remembrance.

DAVIDJEEVRAJ. PUNE. 16062016

Old Buildings

I ain't lover of beauty
Nor a respecter of persons,am i.
In pretence,and in subtlety
I am gentle to nature and kind.

I collect old buildings,pocketing my dreams in fullness
Silent den of tenants and misers
I collect them to imagine newness, 
Difference volleys a distance,thus making me wiser.

Conflicts i bear to stand,
Some in the heart,some right tearing one apart.
These buildings pillared in the greyness of gumption.
Have sutured their cracks with the conflicts of assumption.

They aint the trees,
Whose branches spurt buds and leaves
Having the same old windows and the same old doors,opened but always closed
I collect these buildings to sort my dreams.

As tenants, my dreams might stay
Being favoured by them,in rooms night and day.
Being favoured by their windows and doors,unlatched.
The staircase unmoved,makes me wiser.

DAVIDJEEVRAJ. PUNE. 15062016

Schizo

A bulb burning bright
A frame with a cross,silent as a kite
The untuned radio holds nostalgia.

A creepy little clock
Alarming a certain sunrise mock
Everyday,the day draws its deluded mania

All thoughts turn thorns
Feelings perspired and gone
This roar of age exults euphoria

The way is divided
All paths misguided,reasons flourish
At the voice of demented hysteria.

A craving to remember
Hours of warmness,gifted by summer
Insomnia seated on a seat of phobia

Half way home,with a mirror and comb,
In seemless attire,does not stop to roam,
Unrecognizable is the shame of schizophrenia.

DAVIDJEEVRAJ. PUNE. 0762016.