Muse Leads only once

Words that flow incomprehensibly
Fall as tear drops on paper
Seem to arrange themselves right
Ready to be placed in proper sight

Does my muse wake me at day or dreams?
In the closeness of rush hour
My breathe exhales with yours
Waiting for the exit stop to arrive

Crescendo touched and halts at stoop
As lovers part, a magnum opus emerges
Sadness fills the writer’s own,
For now he does not understand
His spirit, language of emotion said
Never to return where his muse had led

Shades

I don’t see colours
I view all in black and white,
Many in shades of grey
They tell me snow is white
But for me so is the sky I say
I hear the dog bark,
I hear the cat mew,
And see the crow just like you
I exist in a time,
Before the Eastman blush
Where the gory of blood,
Is without a human touch
We marry in my two paints
Live in one that's yours
But see the crow just like you

Moving Forward

It makes my life easier. I have better control over my drawings, free art as I would like to call them (It is like free verse, not abstract but a try replicating the original, an imagination and I fail). You can find them on facebook. I try to convey messages to my friends through those pictures. Well, my drawings are not the point. What I want to talk about is the mouse, attached to my laptop, which helped me have a steady hand while I drew.

The mouse turned 40 today. Here is the link to the article in BBC. (Please do watch the first video in the article.) Dec 9th, 1868 was the first time Douglas Engelbart, the mouse inventor, demonstrated the usage of this technology which we all have grown to love. (And I thought and believed hands free was good and cool. My mistake!)

Yonder was the age of discovery
Now is the age of invention
Future maybe the age of creation or re-creation

Every week in the online version of The Guardian, Culture section and in the sub-section, Books, Billy Mills ( a poet and small press publisher in Ireland) asks writers to contribute poems about certain topics that he chooses. This week it is about Railway Lines. I am trying to widen my horizons and write about topics that are given to me. (To filter stuff in and out) Lets see where this leads me to... (Destination somewhere with success I hope!)

Two lines made of metal
That never meets,
Connecting each life in cities
Departs are anything but sweet

Pebbles skid off the wheel’s edge
Are far for none too long,
First a mountain, hill, now a hole
Train sings its arrested gong

Passing through a rocky cascade
Asks who to break the fall,
With unsure, cupped palms outstretched
Catching a single tear that says it all

It then goes back to begin from start
Train timings, like happiness is fickle,
Silently the windows watch stations arrive
Daily occurrence a repetitive miracle