The Debutante

The suckling piece of my soul
Is the aberration to the reality.
Filled with the ephemeral music
Of sorrow and love.
In the abyss of an erratic life
The ersatz moment comes to life.
Eulogies don't care for the exacerbated pain
Of the hollow soul.

The antagonized soul finds an analogy
An anachronism is what becomes of it
Life itself is amortized
Dreams blight the bruised eyes
As they grovel themselves in the shadow
Of their own light
Their pulchritude goes unnoticed
Like the subtle persuasion of a raconteur

Arbitrary heart beats yoke my soul to this body
Thoughts just profligate the burdened heart
The unscrupulous exponent of the exculpated silence
Ossifies my mortal inchoate self
The chaotic universe around me
Is verdant with cloying emotions
Of love, hate and abstinence
The débutante is born
But her soul is dead

The Dream I Wake Up To

(Been feeling like a teenager lately, it is fun to discover emotions all over again)

There is a candle in my room

Flicker is all I see

My shadow holds me tight

Had to put up a fight

Against the love in me

Coz that was never meant to be

A butterfly outside my window

Looks at me and flutters in the twilight

My shadow looks at me

I am in my sleep

Heart is beating and the eyes weep

It is the feeling I could not fight

Music of his laugh plays- all around me

His whispers rush by me

Every conversation turns to symphony

I am in a fun-filled melody

Twisting and turning, there is nothing but harmony

The moon glitters high above and my shadow holds me tight

It is still twilight or is it time for dawn?

The sun just seems like a teardrop

Eyes still closed, the breeze picks me in its arms

I see the rainbow and hold it close to me

The colors are colorful no more till I see you

You are the dream I want to wake up to.

Reflections of a timeless place

The timeless sands of the fathomless caverns

Covers the holy dust of Jerusalem.

Treaded by saints and devotees

The hills stand witness to every passing moment.

Ornate by pines, palms, ferns and Acorns

The city is stirred by the songs of wind.

Blowing across the borders

The winds bring to life the beauty of Tel Aviv.

Escorting the Falcons, pigeons and Sea gulls

The waves break on the wooden deck.

The gush of cold breeze

Bears the whiff of the coastal jewel.

Afloat the gentle sea breeze

Is the eclectic laughter of the women chatting over wine.

The mirth settles as the morning dew

On the memorabilia of the broken past.

As the candles lit up the darkness

From the struggles to remain free.

The dusk salutes the ones

Who live in the hearts of many.

The crackling stream froths with the paper boats

As kids run past the peaceful peak of Har’Adar.

Romanticizing the stone walls of the old city

The Tower of David stands testament to the eras gone by.

The windmill in the horizon bejewels the spirit of the holy land

Kings and slaves, Monoliths and pagans

Belong alike to this enigmatic civilization.

The caverns of the West wall

Mystifies the shroud of the moonlit night.

Black and White fills the limestone rocks of the waterways

As the light takes the passerby in an era thousands of years before.

Dancing to the tunes of the new age

Are the ballets rhythms of the troupes of the cultural capital.

Under the midnight moon

The city of Tel Aviv transforms itself into a poignant story.

The cafes are still abuzz

When the Old market awakens to the smell of freshly baked cookies.

As the streets are filled with exuberant crowds

The kids await over their grandmas for the warm Baklava.

The smoke on the espresso settles down

As the city prepares for a brand new day.