Call of the Mountains

Caught in the traffic, slow and crawling,
I long to run away from this life in the city.
Far far away, I hear the mountains calling.

This mundane existence is appalling.
I drown in wave upon wave of self-pity.
Caught in the traffic, slow and crawling.

I want to go to a place that’s enthralling,
Yet, be enveloped in peace and serenity.
Far far away, I hear the mountains calling.

Clear blue skies in which I’m free falling,
Evokes in my mind an image so pretty.
Caught in the traffic, slow and crawling.

The heat, dust, and smoke are all galling.
O! To listen to a fresh spring sing a ditty!
Far far away, I hear the mountains calling.

I hear their songs, which I keep recalling.
And wish my dreams will turn into reality.
Caught in the traffic, slow and crawling,
Far far away, I hear the mountains calling.

PS: This poem is a Villanelle.

My Bed

I cannot deny it – I love my bed.
It’s more than just a place where I rest.
Though there’s a desk, chair, and closet,
In my room, my bed is my favorite.

It’s my philosopher and guide
And teaches me a lot about life.
Enclosed in its coziness, I sleep at night –
A sleep that helps recharge my mind.

And what I learn from it is that
When the day has been frustratingly bad,
A deep sleep will untangle the threads
And give me strength for the next day.

My bed is where I see dreams.
It’s where I battle nightmares.
And it’s also the place I say thanks
When my eyes open to another day.

And in the morning, when I’m awake,
My bed is the first thing I make.
For, I can’t predict the course of the day,
But, at its end, I know I’ll have a good rest.

My bed is my best friend.
It’s not just a piece of wood.
It’s more than just a place where I rest.
I cannot deny it – I love my bed.

Dream On

Wise men say we all arrive alone.
And alone we will be, when we pass on.
But about this, I have a different opinion,
For, in this world, when we are born,
We’re given a dream by the Holy One.
This dream is a reason to keep on going,
And, in many ways, it keeps reminding
Us to take action for its realization.
Sometimes, at night, it comes as a vision.
Sometimes, it’s in advice or admonition.
It will continue to strive for recognition,
And seek through us, a manifestation.
When we see it through the commotion,
We need to nurture it with true intention.
This dream will exist with us all along,
And will come to life only if we want.

The Night

The dark is not always scary.
Black is not always taboo.
At times, the night is a blessing,
And the absence of light is needed, too.

When the last traces of sunlight fade,
The night with her magical ways
Helps our minds and bodies rejuvenate
Giving strength to seize the next day.

The day is like a cluttered room
With chores, tasks, and nonstop chatter.
The night helps escape this chaos, too.
With sleep, life seems so much better.

Sleep! This word is paradoxical!
As we see dreams with our eyes closed,
And what happens is so illogical –
It’s like we’re awake in a parallel world.

The night is full of mystery,
Something that can never be explained.
So, let her weave her own tapestry,
While the world slumbers, unrestrained.

Childhood Dreams

If ever there was any innocence,
It would be in a childhood dream.
Where one sailed the seven seas
In a paper boat down the stream.

To meet the fairies of wonderland
With pink frocks and magic wands.
And fly with them to the silver moon
In a ship made of colored balloons.

And on the way, maybe fight and slay
Fire-breathing dragons that lie in wait,
And find a cave full of shiny treasures
On the banks of a flowing chocolate river.

Yes, there never was anything sweet
And precious like a childhood dream
Seen through the eyes of innocence
Like little bubbles of effervescence.