The stories they tell

What am I, if not the
stories I leave behind ??

A hundred years from now
who’ll be me, to those people
who’d never seen me in the flesh,
who were never been there
through my struggles, my failures
my fights, my journey, my ending ..

All they have will be the stories
passed on to them by people
who heard them from some other people
who got them from someone else
who used to know me, been there with me ..

And I wonder how many of those stories
will be lost in translation,
how many of them will have
survived the ever changing times
No matter how long you live,
it’s all about leaving enough
stories to remember you by ..

That’s what puts me back on my knees
every time I fall, makes me fight back
That’s what drives me on, keeps me alive
Because to those people who’ll walk
on this earth long after I’ve gone
I’ll be the sum of a few stories
stories they know, stories they remember
And I, I want to be a damn good one ..

No more, not any more..

The drops of rain on my windowpane
Gust of wind on a warm summer day
There are still stories inside them
And they whisper it all the time
But I don’t want to hear anymore..

People, things, feelings and places
Teary little eyes and smiling faces
There’s so much to write about
There’s so much left to see
But I just don’t care anymore..

Blue Mountain roads, red velvet cupcakes
Yellow maple leaves on green park benches
This world is full of colors and joy
But what color is a forgotten love
I don’t need to know anymore..

That old street, where dreams used to meet
The left hand side under my umbrella
Lots of emptiness all around me
But nothing is emptier than my soul
I just don’t live here anymore..

Somewhere deep inside of my heart
Where old memories go to die
There are memories that could light a flame
And fill up the empty rooms in my soul
But I don’t want to go there anymore
Don’t think I could remember anymore..

A happy ending story, a long lost love song
A sonnet of faith and everlasting hope
So much left to write, but no, not anymore
I’m not me anymore and I don’t believe anymore..

The Story So Far

All you have is a memory
Sad, painful and old
I’ve got something better
A story yet to be told ..

Memories buried so deep
In your broken heart, of
Long forgotten railroads
Random footprints on sand
Some old Horatian odes
A love, cursed, goddamned ..

All you have is that love
Or what’s left of it
I’ve got something better
A story nearly complete

Memories wiped away
By your lonely tears, of
An open window, a closed door
A wall five feet high
A place you called home
But felt like a golden cage

All you ever wanted was to fly
Out into the open blue skies
All I could do was to let you see
The world outside through my eyes

So this is the story so far,
I found you broken and hurt in love
Held your hand and lifted you up
Said I can heal you, ease your pain
But you just wanted to fly again
And I’m now walking away from you,
In to the cold and lonesome rain

Will you ever let those memories go ?
I don’t know but I hope you do
Hope you write your own story
And there’s a place in that for me

All I have now is a hope
Fading, slim and cold
You’ve got something better
A story yet to be told…

Book of Lies

Few days back I bought this book
Apparently it’s an old western classic
And I got it for half the price, pretty good deal.. huh??
The only problem was that it was of no use to me
Never liked a book before,  never been a fan..

So I’m sitting there and thinking
Maybe I should gift it to someone
After all what’s life, if you cannot share
an old western classic with someone else??
As luck would have it, I found someone
Who was actually looking for that same book..
If that was not a sign from the universe,
Then I don’t know what it was..

Suddenly everything was looking bright in life,
Birds were singing,  sun was rising from the east..
Or was it already like that??  Who cares??
But as they say, nothing last forever
Two days later it was back in my hands again
The events leading up to that are not important
What is really important is that,
I’m stuck with this stupid old book again ..

And now I’m starting to think that
it’s like cursed or something, seriously..
It is just sitting there in the corner of my table
Like a painful memory I just can’t get rid of..
I can always pretend that it’s not there anymore
But the truth is that every now and then
I just look at it and say to myself
“One day I’m going to read this book and find happiness
Or find enough courage to burn it down.. “

Stories we tell

You already know what I’ve in my mind
but I’m not going to tell you anymore ..
I’m going to write it on a signboard in
bold letters and put it outside your door ..
We need stories to look back and smile about
when you’re sixty nine and I’m seventy four ..
I’m thinking, this would make a great one ..