Stray Birds

Oh! tonight 'tis true What the nightingale sings With her unfolded wings, for she Learnt from the wind, utter A sigh. 'twas sometime Earlier this night, the wind Overheard the brook, which Whisper'd to a passing creek, of The story the pebbles told, when Down her banks they rush'd And roll'd. 'twas sometime Earlier this evening, the pebbles I threw in the brook, as Many as I could reach, and with Single each, single only was the Name, which escap'd lips of mine Of you. Five and a twenty cold nights Have come and gone, since You went afar and I'm alone. Remember The Adieu I wished? And Nary  has a moment Pass'd in which Have you not been Solemnly missed. And tonight 'tis true What the nightingale sings With her unfoldeed wings, for she Spreads in the open air, the song of My quiescent despair. So tonight I picked up the stones. And With a deep sigh, I Threw and watch'd them Roll. And off they Roll'd! And on they Float

Just another morning , a photo by Pavan Daxini on Flickr.

“One has to tiptoe lightly and steal up to one’s quarry; you don’t swish the water when you are fishing.” ~Cartier-Bresson

Those days, they were dark, Those nights - often cold, Soon it began to rain, Never did it stop again. There was flood, Water, water, everywhere, And I know not how, I was able to survive. There was blood, Dead bodies, floating, everywhere, And I know not how, I am still able to breathe. Over the horizon a faint ray, First few sparkles of sunlight, No soul to be seen near my boat, For everybody is long dead. And I keep floating alone, Boat aimlessly wandering, Here, there, somewhere, I have nowhere to sail to, Does anybody out there, Want to sail too? I want to breathe, In the open air, Does anybody out there, Want to breathe too? - Pavan

Nut cracker. , a photo by Pavan Daxini on Flickr. Clicked this one during autumn 2010. Memories.

Dear Stuti, I am substituting this little verse for the traditional "Happy birthday to you, enjoy your day" post on your wall, a 140-character tweet or a forwarded text message. I know it's a little unconventional way to wish someone "happy birthday", but here it goes. Hope you like it. ---- It was the seventh day of the month sixth. A hushed cry echoed through the busy corridors. It drowned in the metal clicks, hurried footsteps, the squalls and hollers. Amid all these she was born. Much like a little angel in the face of the earth. It was a happy day. Days passed. The cries grew louder and clearer. Soon weeks, months and years passed. The cries transformed into a smile. Myriad colors sparkled in her eyes. They spoke of dreams. It was a beautiful smile. The early years. Blossom, wind, rains and heat witnessed her. With the winds, she ran freely. She played hard, sang kicked, cried, scratched and laughed. She threw pebbles in fre

Need to grow either wings or fins , a photo by Pavan Daxini on Flickr. Random picture from Kerala Visit.

Saw your face in the crowd the other day, I remember what you used to say, Remember those songs we used to sing, The memories of the old times still ring. The forever blinding gaze, Surrounded by the Christmas lights, And that staring endlessly, Into cold starry nights. With hand in hand, Remember that moonlight walk? The sound of outdrawn breaths? Overhearing the mute cries? Yeah! I remember you. Bounded by the silent reproach, Words sometimes sound so meek, Few unsolicited questions, And a couple of answers to seek. The time has flew, The years passed in haze, Plastic smiles that survived, Tears been long vaporized, Old memories now amaze. It's Christmas Eve, Sitting by the attic I look past the horizon, The remembrance surrounds the night, And the lights still shine so bright. On the table lay two cups of coffee, And some shear and strain, Besides rests an empty chair, And no one to brew the pain. Trains of thoughts rush by, The fondling re

The distant smells that come my way, Seem to be ripe and sway, I wish not to see the dark times ahead, Hear not the rumbling screams and cries, My gaze fixed upon their revealing face, As them demons of future stare back, And nothing save the benighted omen, To be found in those frightful eyes. ---- OKAY. It's one week before I face my sixth sem ester end-semester exams. And, continuing my tradition from last semester, I decide to return with my idiotic blogpost(s). So, I am  just surfing through my archives, and -   VOILA! - I  discover this.  While written way back, this mini verse, never sounded more apt. Pavan, 17 April, 2011