Sound of the Unheard

There's a house down the road,
shining in the leafy embrace,
of it's friends that go green with envy,
if challenged by another friendly face.


For long the windows have remained,
shy of the coquettish wind,
have never opened their arms wide
to welcome the monsoon spray as it begins.

For long the sun-kissed doors
haven't let a shadow find home within.
The porch has aged in the silence,
without clinking spoons at tea, or toasts of gin.

Inside remains a soul,
afraid to step out and behold,
the love meant for her heart,
because her tale remains untold.





Photo courtesy: http://sadcan.tumblr.com/; http://softgrungepalepastelandpretty.tumblr.com/

As I wield the Brush!

Amateur attempt at painting ;)

Sound of the Unspoken

Held in my hands, I have

A chalice full of truth:

Ripples of denial, 

Or tears of purest Ruth?

The faces that float across,

Vanish moments before,

The bubbles rise to the surface,

The words have lost their source.

My mind - woven into the drapes,

That separate the two worlds alive :

One of misery, the other of light,

Permeation deprived.

And I hold the chalice of truth

Spoken by voiceless beings,

Heard by cold, passive hearts,

In throngs, loneliness gleams.