Silver Crusader

Tell me not in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! – H.W. Longfellow




It nags you, I can hear it in your voice sweetheart,
There is no love, no friendship left to salvage,
It’s just the routine trail,
Assuage your guilt till you finally turn grey.

Of course you should not feel so dear,
It was not your fault, nor mine,
We mixed vodka and wine,
The violent retching is just surely it’s kind.

How long how long oh desolation,
Will you keep me crucified,
Of course I love your embrace solitude,
I am just not sure if I will ever leave your side.

They say spring is near, winter shall wear off in sometime,
Oh seasons, my seasons, when will the boughs be filled,
Somewhere in my life, I lost change, did I ?
Where did I lose you, my wings, when will you spread out to make me fly.



Someday when you are not so sure,
If anyone in the world loves you or no,
Come back to me, my poetry and prose,
The doubt you keep shall be no more.

No I Don’t Love You

No I don’t love you,
I did not dream of you last night yet again,
We were not talking on the bench by the shore,
It’s something I wrote just to make you feel sad.

No I don’t love you, never had,
All those poems hundreds and all,
Were not written for you, just you,
I wrote them to win me fame, never were they in your name.

No I don’t love you, never will,
I can’t think of you, though I will,
I can’t talk to you, of you, for you, I still,
No I don’t love you, always will.


I have received three awards till date and am very thankful to two wonderful bloggers – inkmode and ladameauxfleurs who have nominated me for the same. I am sorry for being lazy enough not to give out answers and thank my patrons, but well here I am at last.

So without wasting much time,

  1. Blogger Recognition Award
    • silvercrusader – how, when why ? – six years ago, I was fooling around with a friend, and I realized that I may as well rhyme online. I am not sure if I am any good at poetry, there are wonderful bloggers who leave me astound with their depth, originality and understanding of the human heart. The two listed above are for sure two such bloggers. I use the medium to word emotions that even I seldom can give word to in the logical real world real time realm.
    • Advise – well, to poets, there is no advise, there’s either coffee or a cigar for their delight. A good thing about keeping a blog is, it turns out to be a living diary and clicking back, you can have a smile from those days and moments, a good profit, if you ask me.
    • Thank you inkmode for the award.
  2. Liebster Award
    • What inspires you to pursue your goals? – I keep my goal simple, calm, peace, harmony for everyone. The satisfaction from a stranger’s smile.
    • What’s your happy thought? – I am a fan of Tagore, and suggest Stray Birds to all my co – bloggers.  The lines that keep me going are – “If you cry because the sun has gone out of your life, your tears will prevent you from seeing the stars.”
    • Would you rather be trapped in a room with a hungry werewolf or a thirsty vampire? – Both, if they can rhyme.
    • Would you survive an apocalypse and what type? – Why, no I want to be the first one to go. Good riddance stupid empty world.
    • What is your all time favorite quote? – Syliva Plath – The Bell Jar – the lines, “I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.” Change gender, context.
    • What qualities attract you to a person, romantically or not? – Intelligence, Awareness, Empathy and Originality.
    • What song makes you feel so much it hurts? – I am addicted to music, so although it’s a difficult choice, I will say Black Muddy River (Grateful Dead) and Tears in Heaven (Eric Clapton)
    • What is your worst fear and most recent nightmare? – worst fear is misunderstanding and most all my nightmares involve coming back to the same door after crossing and running all around, still I can’t find the way out.
    • What is your funniest memory? – I don’t remember, I was way too high, but I know it was damn funny.
    • Would you rather be stuck on a ship full of the Borg or Cybermen?  – I don’t know, can they steer, serve and cook; either will do if they can.
    • What’s something you would like to ask me? – Anna, if you have read till this point, please answer how is Romania for a holiday destination, how expensive, will you take me around ?
  3. The Versatile Blogger Award – 7 facts about me
    1. I love running long distances. (Knees trouble keeping me down since some time now)
    2. Peace of mind is my precious.
    3. I don’t have friends, they are guardian angles.
    4. I never get angry, when pushed, I mostly turn indifferent, so temper has never been an issue.
    5. I am a loner and put up a strong fight against anyone who gets close, hence when (and if) I trust I am astonishingly gullible and stupid.
    6. I love coffee, back to back, and black.
    7. It took me two hours to write this whole thing down, a poem takes around 3-5 minutes. So I am poor at awards, and may be forgiven for not responding to them. (I will try and make amends now).

For both the second and third award, I thank the Dostoevskian dream ladameauxfleurs.

I don’t really know a lot of people around to nominate them. So I think all the old bloggers who have not as yet updated their about page should do so.

Little Wishes

Xmas yesterday, such a fine decor,
A Santa fable from the missionary madam,
On DD Metro with raindeer sledge,
I wished he could gift a Hindu’s son.

A hot day and long queue,
I was waiting to pay the semester fee then,
An elite college, a fine degree,
I wished there was just something I could learn.

A rainy afternoon at Bangalore’s nerve,
It was already 40 hours on the end,
A deadline met, some accolades won,
I wished if they could tell me a reason.

A wintery night, the sweet February month,
I felt as if I could command the sun,
A poison mixed, a man returned,
I wished to have died but not unloved.

I wished never for a mind razor sharp,
I wished never for a sweetheart fair and smart,
I wished never for the money, a car, cheap fun,
Just little wishes unanswered, undone.

Random evening thoughts.


Such a sweet game to play,

Always near, never reaching,

Failing to clinch a single step,

Destroying all that comes in the way.


Oh destruction you beauty,

What calm amidst the war,

What meditation, what wonder,

The third eye of Shiva my lord.


The third eye, the fire,

The rising smoke, the ash,

The art of burning,

On the pyre.


All the glib words,

All spoken, done or not,

All the world’s a deception,

All the cosmos is a lie.


Life simple,
Four letters,
A smile, a tear,
Some years to twinkle.


I was cold the other day,
And a mustard pullover I had hid came out,
And while I shuffled to find the arms,
There lay a long strand of your brunette hair.

I took it up and tried flinging it out of the window,
It would not go,
So I tied it across my fingers in circles,
And smiled at it, it smiled back.

Slowly the warmth of holding you came,
And then your head on my shoulders,
I sat there on the garden benches,
Lost looking ahead, pointless, existant.

The cold morning came back,
The few moments we had snatched,
Away from destiny and time,
To see the beauty of being.

Such thoughts like tides of a loving mind,
Came and went and like a lullaby,
Sang me to sleep with you on my fingers,
Will I wake up to see you by ? or shall we fall off and die ?

Some Nights

Nights as these are difficult you see,
I twist and toss and can sleep not,
Still thinking of you and me,
Or wondering what shall we be ?

I get up from my bed, switch on the lights,
And sit at the blaring screen brazing my eyes,
I write drafts and let them lie by,
For I know nothing of what else of me will get you by ?

Thoughts they come, black nor white,
And some like wine, brilliant to age,
And some like books, yellow and pale,
And some like the autumn, that stands at our doorway.

The child stops and gulps the rolling drops,
No body plays with me, they have their alibi,
Snide remarks of those lonely lunch hours,
Alone out of the window his fixed eyes.

The loner sits wondering at every placid moon,
And they add red ones, to the already cold blue,
And name years when you know you will not be around,
When such stars and moons will be seen again, with other eyes.

Sometimes I see them, in some of these nights,
And poised with ease and unrest,
And wrestling with sleep and distress,
I think of things that have so come, and so gone, and yet stayed.


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 115 other followers