Lost Neighbor (A Lyric)

 

With a few bottles of beers

Under the shades of lunar layers

Will you like to hear

The untold story

Of my lovely neighbor

That I love to remember

In my lonely leisure…

 

Sometimes I wonder

If she ever remembers

How I used to feel her

In those brutal winter morns,

If she ever remembers 

The way I felt her…

With the moaning dew drops

On the misty wheat corns;

 

And I keep wondering

Once in a full Moon

With the warmth of my pains

If she ever remembers

The way I felt her

In those grey summer rains…

 

With a few bottles of beers

Under the shades of lunar layers

Will you like to hear

The silent story

Of my lovely neighbor

That I love to remember

In my lonely leisure…

 

She was my cutest neighbor

In the far west corner

From my open balcony,

Under a white ginger lily.

As the lonely wanderer

Along our Little Run river

I kept taking my breather

Near her home close to the valley.

And I used to wait for hours

With my heart beating so harder

For a glimpse of her eyes.

In those tameless young days

 

And I loved to watch her

Taking lonely lunar showers,

With the music of the night

In the melting moon rays,

 

In those warm autumn days

I saw her gliding like the fays

In a blast of color beams

By the lake and the streams…

Though she might've never seen 

A boy fetching all the blues,

Kept squandering all his noons;

Kept drawing summer dreams...

 

With a few bottles of beers

Under the shades of lunar layers

Will you like to hear

The silent story

Of my lovely neighbor

That I love to remember

In my lonely leisure…

 

She left one day

With a million untold words

That I had to hide and cover

In my heart forever….

 

And she left

In a late autumn morn

Before I could greet the waking dawn…

With a million unborn dreams

That I had to hide and cover

In the wild green grass

With a few frozen layers…

 

With a few bottles of beers

Under the shades of lunar layers

Will you still wanna hear

The untold story

Of my Lovely neighbor

For whom I still wonder

If she ever remembers

The boy in love with her…

 

Will you still wanna hear

The unsung story

Of my Lovely neighbor

For whom I still wonder

If she ever remembers

The boy from Moonrevoir

Who was once in love with her…

 

© Atique R.

Just Before I Go Insane…(A Lyric)

 

When the lights fade away

Into the west horizon;

When

The monsoon river flickers

In an unison

With the melting Sun,

I lose my soul

Into a breathtaking beauty

Just before I go insane...

 

Just before I go insane

I feel you, dear

In every little breath,

In all my dreams and sighs,

In all the love

Flowing through my veins;

I feel you, my love, in all my pains,

Just before I go insane…

 

When the night falls

Ushering in a full Moon;

When

The silver rays play with the fireflies

In an unison

With the wild lovely flowers,

I lose my soul

Into the splashes of moon drops

Just before I go insane…

 

Just before I go insane

I feel you, dear

In every little breath,

In all my dreams and sighs,

In all the love

Flowing through my veins;

I feel you, my love, in all my pains,

Just before I go insane…

 

When the first touches of a new Sun

Lights up the glowing dews

In an early winter morn;

When

The blazing mustard flowers

In an unison with the rays of gold,

Brings a beauty from heaven,

I lose my soul into a pair of eyes

Just before I go insane…

 

Just before I go insane

I feel you, dear

In every little breath,

In all my dreams and sighs,

In all the love

Flowing through my veins;

I feel you, my love, in all my pains,

Just before I go insane…

 

When I walk along the isle

To catch up with the end of green

Under the searing noon;

When

The songs of a summer rain

In an unison with the magical monsoon,

Melt my frozen heart

To free a dream caged within

I lose my soul in the flooding smile you left

Just before I go insane… 

 

Just before I go insane

I feel you, dear

In every little breath,

In all my dreams and sighs,

In all the love

Flowing through my veins;

I feel you, my love, in all my pains,

Just before I go insane…

 

© Atique R.

The Last Ride with Her

 

This was our last ride together.

Though we never talked to each other;

Once in a blue Moon

I got the chance to sit beside her,

And found time travelling too fast

Until my stoppage would come

And the magical delusion turned over.

 

She used to sit

On her favorite window seat

At the corner of my sight.

And my eyes kept swinging

All around the bus

And kept turning back to her

In a dreaming delight

For a glimpse of her eyes;

The painstaking traffic jam

Turned sweeter.

 

She usually looked straight,

Focusing on nowhere,

And never turned left

Even by the flick of a sight;

When I sat right there

With a withering soul

Under a wavering ray of light.

 

She smiled sometimes

With her mind-storming eyes;

Either in a conversation

Or because of some funny things

In her busy cell phone;

Without ever knowing

How she set the nerves

Of an innocent soul burning...

 

Our eyes met sometimes

For a fraction of a moment

Until she took her look away

Faster than the lightning;

But enough for my searing soul

To float over a charming spell

And set the tune to raining.

 

I used to talk to her

For hours together,

But there was no word

That I ever had to utter.

She used to reply

With words, wit and smiles

As my mind find better

In the weaving of a dream

By a lonely day dreamer...

 

And that was my last ride with her,

With all my fooled imaginations

And the dreams of a beautiful lie.

But the feelings, be it one-sided,

I would always love to taste

The blissful pain, once before I die. 

© Atique R.

Life of a Grasshopper

 

I happened to fall in love

With a dandelion girl

In a long-forgotten past.

Do I still love her?

I'm supposed to think about it

In an arranged leisure;

Maybe in a late autumn night;

In somewhere quieter

With the spendable idle hours.

 

Maybe I could check

Some of her letters

She had written me

A decade ago

When we used to be friends

And hang around together.

But, I'm not sure now

If she loved me,

Or I'm still loving her.

 

I've got to search the file

Of old letters in my old shelf

Nearly submerged

In the piles of dust.

But, does it really matter?

I'm not a wayfarer anymore,

With a tender heart.

But, I've got to think of a leisure

I’ve got to shed off

The due drops of pain,

The frozen flow of tears

In the shades of a monsoon rain.

And where's the spare hours?

 

I do really need a leisure,

Maybe,

A quiet time along a lonely shore

To think

If I still love her

Or if there is any love left

In my life of a grasshopper.

But, where's the time to spare?

© Atique R.

Love and the Monsoon Rain

 

There are questions

That get spiraled inside my mind

Like trapped in the eye of a tornado;

Reckless.

There are questions

That squeeze my heart hard,

Enough to make me feel strangled;

Breathless.

And without ever sprouting out in words

Still they remain twisted, sealed;

Helpless.

 

There are feelings

That keep boiling through my veins,

Like lava

To be exploded out of a volcano;

Merciless.

There are feelings

That take every single bit of my strength

To contain

Like a hurricane

Inside the freezing soul;

Speechless.

 

And there is the love

That keeps my questions unearthed,

And twisted

In exchange for a soul;

Roasted.

And there is the love

That let my lava feelings

Fly unshackled and boundless

With all those untold questions;

With all those frozen sighs

To drizzle down the drops of pain

In the monsoon rain….

© Atique R. 

At the End of a Winter

 

The white misty layer

Sprang up out of nowhere

Just after the twilight

In an early winter night.

The Moon was on its ninth,

Picking up the pace

To be in full bloom,

Amidst the shuttered rays of light.

 

I was all alone in a foggy lawn

Watching carelessly

The shy drops of Moon,

When I met her eyes

In a sudden sweep of rain

On a derailed monsoon...

 

She was drifting in like a bunch

Of light white foamy clouds

With a sweet autumn breeze;

And I got stuck by like a magical spell

To see my fall in a pair of blue eyes

Floating past my heart ringing a bell.

 

I used to write sometimes

On borrowed emotions

From the poems I seek to find

How it’s like the poetic passions.

Now, with all the maddening feelings

Brimming out of my mind

I kept looking at the blank page

Staring back at me with the blue

I got enchanted by in that fairy wind.

 

I loved to weave dreams

With winters fluting the summer rains;

Bridging morning dews

With the lonely nocturnal pains.

And all on a sudden

I found myself in the layers

Of dreams in search of the eyes

I lost my soul winging in.

 

At the edge of one winter

There will be no sign of

The long-forgotten spring.

The trail of fallen leaves

Will get drier and heavier

With no trace of greening…

 

All the tales of the world

Will come to an end,

With all the colors fading out

In a devouring bend…

 

And there will be just dreams

Over the ashen blue sky,

Floating like bubbles

In the colorless layers of streams…

 

And there will be an unfinished poem

Riding with a pair of blue eyes

In one of those dreams;

 

The eyes with a straight look

Swinging between a nonchalant smile

And a mystery of the Forgotten Isle;

And a poem in a mess of failed words

To paint a passion so deep

In my empty manuscript…

© Atique R. 

To Be Or Not To Be…

 

-So, you are active here?

-Hum.

-And in the Facebook?

-Sometimes.

-Are you surprised or annoyed?

-Why would I get surprised?

-The same question for the latter one?

-I don't get annoyed so fast.

-But, I see you sometimes looking straight

Focusing on nowhere:

Slightly annoyed

But more of an apathetic look…

 

She got silent like many

Other times, leaving me confused

Yet again;

Making me keep wondering

Yet again

If I was bothering her

With my caged emotions

Leaking out some buried feelings

In an unguarded conscience...

 

But, I've got so many things to know,

I've got so many questions to ask.

And yet I just don't know

If I should text her again

With the last one gone

Lost in an abyss of pain.

 

I can start again

Just by saying "hi" or

May be "what's up".

And I know

She would reply

In the succinct most way

With one or two words,

Or with silence.

But I could explain

Why she wasn’t surprised

With my text messages:

Either she doesn’t give it a shit

To the unwanted messages;

Or she somehow knew

I was going to contact

By a hard found number to hit.

 

And I could hope against hope

That the latter one was her reason.

But, then she would opt for

The silence mood, yet again,

Without answering

The multiple choice question.

 

So, it’s better to switch on the darkness

And light up my evening sky

To do all the talking with the stars,

Dead and alive,

And to shed off all the heavy words,

Laden with hopes and despairs.

 

If she hears, she hears….

© Atique R.