patterns

a chamfered nib
making its way
across the paper

it leaves a trail,
makes its path -
narrow and wide and gradual

it plays with nature
it plays with form
it works magic

the ink - following
its progenitor
walks a baby clenched to mother

it ceases time
for eternity
the parchment remains

me/i

i feel at times
that i am
nothing

i try to be
a poet sometimes
failure

i think i can
write something that moves hearts
false

i feel i am
nothing
absolutely

truth

black is the colour
of white;
only disguised.

power is the emotion
of fear;
only disguised.





© Rajat Mahajan. 2010

poet/poetry/dream/life

i wish i were a poet
for poetry soothes
it gives a reason
a rhythm - to life.

i wish i would sink
in the sands of words
and drown my lungs
with only poetry.

i wish i were indeed
what i want to be
for then
i would have lived.






© Rajat Mahajan. 2010

a quill working its way

the ink on
a paper
is emotion

the fire in
the stove
is living

the hate in
your heart
is love

the tip on
a pen
is power






© Rajat Mahajan. 2010

fables

This world is so filled,
with men brave warriors, that
to know the strength; God,
shall himself wait.

So ferocious the storms,
of sands, of oceans,
but the path of the knights,
undone, unfathomable.

They reached mountains,
and depths of waters,
against destiny's will; they
created their own.

The sun's yellow, fell
shy of their valour - so gold;
and the might of Him, felt
proud - he made them.






© Rajat Mahajan. 2010