Right

I am a lost voice
in a land of billion more
unheard,unsung,unworthy i be
still i speak.

I am a lost soul
in a random mortal form
bemused,perused,confused i be
still i exist.

I am a lost poet
in search of an ideal world
biased, stigmatized, jeopardized existence i see
still i write!

Destined( the antithesis)

perched atop the fog bitten birch,
elegy sung by desolate larks remind;
stormy breeze and frosty weather
hope and soul depart together,
just snowy feathers  left behind.

no sun, no moon, no ray of light
no soothing wind,no ornate smile
no branch is green,no spring in sight
just flickering life on cusp of blight
just this winter,cold and vile

Last Rustle...

wind sings slowly

full of melancholy

bewitched,

dry leaves follow me,

into oblivion.

A silly evening

birds sit on the electric wire

as it swings

to the flutters of their restless wings

to some (now) well known rhythm.

the clouds laze around,

inheriting the stillness of my mind.

occupy the same spaces,

on the (now) well known sky.

pearls of sweat

cling to my forehead

like a hiker holding on to a cliff

before taking a mighty fall.

same old spot,

same old thoughts

same silly evening

same wish for a change.

thoughts fade away

universe blinks,

I follow the tired sun

and return home(as always).