Tag: #movingon

Tightrope

Tightrope

Greens are turning to earthen hues
Something seems ashen within the blues
Neither it is scorching nor too cold
The clouds seem begrudgingly old
The cobbled streets have leaves bestrew
That crumple under the feet with rue
I watch my confidant wither slowly away
In the autumn weather each passing day
My friend, the sturdy staunch sycamore tree,
Braves the seasons and stands tall for me
It’s leaves are turning yellow and brown
The colour of a fading lack lustre crown
Shedding what it can no longer bear to hold
Willing me to be better, brave and bold
And when it gets too heavy just let it go
It’s okay to pause and take it slow
Breathe out the dismay and inhale the hope
Life shouldn’t be like walking on a tightrope.

2022 © Taruchaya

Traces

Traces

How far does death bring closure?
Do unseen open wounds stop festering?
Does the vacuum left behind get filled
or memories cease their pestering?
Something in the sub-conscious mind
awakes with a jolt of flashbacks –
fading faces with unfading memories…
time long gone never loses it’s tracks.
Pain echoes through the soul…
phantom pain… invisible yet noticeable.
Once again you must quietly endure,
the storms that wrecked havoc undeniable.
We lose loved ones but not their traces
and move on clutching their memories tight.
Their signs, moments or recollection stay
like shimmering moon on a cloudy night.

©2022 Taruchaya. All rights reserved.

Earthlings

Earthlings

We stare at the depths of darkness

spellbound from minutes to hours

amazed at the sky’s vastness

wishing to pluck the glittering stars

At times we patiently await

for a few unlucky stars to fall

wishing at the expense of their sad fate

to get lucky… if nothing works at all

Dreaming of things out of our grasp

our desires are like fireflies

as our efforts slowly unclasp

eventually we’re bound to rise

Firmly rooted to the earth

we falter, fall and then learn to grow

that’s what determines our worth –

the vision, hard work and zeal to know

We’re elusive eager earthlings

chasing after unexplored entities

shaping endings into beginnings

seeking and building new identities

© 2022 Taruchaya. All rights reserved.

Broken

Broken

A heart that doesn't beat anymore...
eyes that no more cry. 
Nobody knows what happened before...
nobody cares to try. 
Sympathy doesn't soothe the living dead 
when cobwebs weave them a shiny shroud. 
The cold ground finally becomes a bed...
memories don't know how to cry aloud. 
Fighting alone the greying storms, 
the exhausted sun bids adieu. 
While the earth soaks in little warmth 
from traces of yellowing hue. 
In the end we fall like a broken feather...
ending up in the depths of abyss. 
Relationships limited to fair-weather 
never even find anything amiss. 
Some still pick up broken fragments 
and try to make something new. 
Carefully avoiding deep attachments...
while preserving their tears as dew. 
Those broken shards now hurt only those 
who carelessly try to trample over them. 
Cocoons are built so that no one comes close 
Be understanding- try not to condemn.

© 2021 Taruchaya. All rights reserved.

Don’t Bind

Don't Bind

Nobody owns the stars... 
nobody owns their sparkling light. 
Nobody owns the birds... 
nobody owns their willful flight. 

Try to catch water...
it will fall through your hand. 
The tighter you hold,  
more will slip the sand.  

Don't try to bind 
the one who wants to leave. 
You'll be better off 
if you so believe. 

For what and who is yours, 
will always be by your side. 
I hope you'll understand-  
pause, think and decide. 

So don't try to bind something, 
that's really meant to be free. 
Just hold onto the moments  
and cherish the memory.  

©2021 Taruchaya. All rights reserved.


Echoes

Echoes

The calling bell rang through the hallway…
only commotion of sounds stayed.
Amidst the beeps of machines,
no footsteps approached the room.
The night wasn’t dark but long…
bright light seeped through the door.
The woosh of heavy breathing merged
with the hiss of decreasing oxygen.
And the constant coughing burned the lungs,
or whatever was still struggling to work.
A spectrum of tiny lights crisscrossed the room.
The smell of medicines and soiled dishes –
the unkempt beds wet with sweat and tears.

Darkness isn’t scary, nor the long night.
The scariest feeling is to die alone…
without saying goodbye…
leaving without the last glimpse of life-
without a chance to even contemplate
over the regrets, remorse or celebrations…
without the last warm touch of little hands.
The smiles that made your day- the wet lips
or the tight hugs resonating strong heartbeats.
Somewhere in the mind the echoes remain,
reminding how precious this time is- the present.
To make memories or to take memories…
when the journey finally ends!

©2021 Taruchaya. All rights reserved.

Elusive Sleep

Elusive Sleep

Sleep eludes a mind with hoarded thoughts - 
they stubbornly stay like nasty clots. 
Unlike bruises they don't show, 
like a little secret no one can know! 
The quiet ones will understand, 
suppressed words are like gritty sand. 
They prick the sole and scratch the soul - 
can't fill a heart with gaping hole! 
When few feelings fail to escape, 
thoughts then take a demonic shape;
chaos confined to the core of heart, 
tends to easily break us apart. 
So let all pain flow through your verse,  
before it becomes a woeful curse. 
Shards of glass can cut you deep... 
broken thoughts will steal your sleep. 
Overstretching always tightens the knots... 
sleep eludes a mind with hoarded thoughts.
© Taruchaya

The Wise Storyteller

The Wise Storyteller

“Life is full of stories,”
said the wise storyteller.
Simple characters appease
only a humble listener.
Draw an imaginary city,
then build it in your mind…
and just like electricity
ideas will flow – one of a kind.
The wise storyteller is gone…
too far to ever look back.
His words shall always live on
filling the broken heart through a crack.
The stories he left unfinished…
the plots that haven’t yet evolved.
“If only he were here,” I wished
but wishes rarely get resolved.
I won’t search him in the stars
as he’ll be shining like the sunlight.
His memories shall heal the scars…
his stories shall always delight!

© Taruchaya

The Sanguine Sunlight

Photo © Taruchaya
The Sanguine Sunlight

These hot summer evenings 
melting into the night. 
Sunset speaks sweet nothings 
to the tight-lipped twilight. 
While clouds seek tepidity 
from the retreating sunlight, 
dusk advances with avidity...
slowly appears a nostalgic night. 
Nocturnal critters awaken...
tired birds go to sleep. 
Stars hug the sky - unshaken 
and unafraid to fall somewhere deep. 
The tenacious time takes a full circle 
when the sun rises - light embraces all. 
Jumping through hoops and hurdle, 
a new day begins...life doesn't stall. 
© Taruchaya

Lessons We Learn

Lessons We Learn

We always learn
To get up
once we fall

To balance 
once we stumble

To hold on
once we lose grip

To let go
once it overflows

To fight back
once it overwhelms

To give up
once it overburdens

To be hopeful
once misery befalls

To regret
once it's gone

To appreciate
once it's too late

To bitterly cry
once it slips away

To love unconditionally
once we lose
© Taruchaya
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