The Rock-Solid Self

Waves of sorrow
Smother me. I still stand ashore
Solid, as a rock.

© Suyog Ketkar

#haiku #micropoetry

AKA Life

The macabre imaginations of non-existence.
The morbid interests of people show in my choices.

The manipulative judgements by the wishful mob.
The maniacal interpretations of the merciless souls.

The connection between fate and celestial geometry—often fashioned.
The coherence between life and logic—often conjectured.

The jolts of life.
The jeering people nudging me to the pyre—not at all a surprise.

The velvety words. The coarse assumptions.
The visual appeal of inaudible emotions.

The deceitful intentions.
The demanding expectations.

Life is a smorgasbord.
What else, after all, do I expect it to be.

© Suyog Ketkar

Micropoetry: War Medals

Medals symbolize
Not what’s won but also lost.
That’s, the untold story.

© Suyog Ketkar

#micropoetry #haiku

The Name that Wasn’t

No voice, no noise.
No reflection of oneself.
No definition; none for assumption.
I am not myself.

Now here, now there.
I pity myself.
Now this, now that.
I am not myself.

Neither today nor tomorrow.
I can’t portray the inner self.
One’s thoughts, another’s actions.
I am not myself.

Neither from the rain
Nor from the draught.
From where do I then
Glean myself?

I am but a name
That tiny nothing
Neither more nor less.
I remain myself.
© Suyog Ketkar

What Stops Me from Writing?

It is the fear of losing out—
The experience, that is—on the Present
That I sometimes
Stop myself from writing.

However, it is the boon of—
Heart, that is—self-belief
That I reserve as I
Get back to writing.

It is the fear of falling behind—
The dreaded race, that is—monies
That I sometimes
Stop myself from writing.

However, it is resorting to—
Karma, that is—calmness under pressure
That I fall back upon myself and
Get back to writing.

It is the fear of getting lost in—
Cluelessness, that is—the abundance of words
That I sometimes
Stop myself from writing.

However, It is the truth of—
Candid confessions, that is—life
That I seek, and thus,
Get back to writing.
© Suyog Ketkar

Micropoetry: The Wait is Over

Time flies, I would say.
Cuddles, and not Calls today;
My Princess comes back.

© Suyog Ketkar

The Call of the Pen

Perch, stop not
For you deserve much more
Rest for a while, and don’t
Stop until you reach a new shore.

Halt, break not
For you are destined to break more
Conversations otherwise unspoken.
Conversations, not a mere folklore.

Stand up, sit not
For you must explore much more
Than yourself, the limits of which
Won’t be decided today, not yore.

Pen down, digress not
For you must scribe much more
Than what’s beyond fantasy
Write what’s fathomable in only a lore.

Bring, deny not
For you have earned this
Glory beyond words what
Has always been Yours, for sure.
©Suyog Ketkar

Here’s Monsoon

When the heat burnt souls alive,
When the thirst to quench
Nothing but physical selves
Turned all choices but naïve,
When the harks went unheard-of
And everyone began to strive…

The boon served us with a downpour
That drenched us with happiness
Decorated our windows with
Invaluable pearls of joy unspeakable

And announced its arrival,
Much louder than it announced
The departure of despair and gloom…

Here’s monsoon.
©Suyog Ketkar

Be that Faith

Through the watery eyes that flow,
In the smoldering hearts that glow,
Be the faith you wish the world to sustain.

Through the darkest of nights,
In the glaring flaws appearing in daylight,
Let go of the fear. Let that belief remain.

Through the burgeoning dream you know,
In the countless hopes you sow,
Let the truth prevail. Falsity, never again.

Through despair have survived but few.
Be the one who comes out anew.
Let not the mind take over; that’s typical brain game.

For those who lament and shriek.
Reserve shoulders for those who are weak.
Let your life become a boon. Not a bane.

Through insanity you cannot be top gun.
Practicing Sang-Froid can make you but one.
Do that which is impossible; be sane.
©Suyog Ketkar

Flipside

Tears that trickled down
My cheeks, filling me with fear;
Tears that once tore me apart,
Convey my thoughts, too.

Fear, the feeling of which
Scared me to death;
Fear that led me to nothingness,
Wakes me up to new limits, too.

Death, the addressing of people as Late,
Made me think of “for what?”;
Death that once parted my loved ones,
Cracks up avenues for a new life, too.

Cracks, within emotions, that once
Filled me to grief,
Cracks that leaked emotions
Leak my inner sunshine, too.

Grief, which once scarred me,
Only Time will come to heal.
Grief, which I’ve come to see,
Brings me to peace, too.

Time that once was clueless,
Brought me down on my knees
Time, the all mighty, now
Tells my brave tales, too.

Oblivion, the existence of which
Bothered me of endless inexistence;
The search for it again,
Empowers me to pen my dreams, too.

Endlessness that once endorsed
Unwilling, untrue souls around me;
Endlessness that then knew no end,
Authors my tiny successes, too.
©Suyog Ketkar