DOM VICTOR'S TALES

Words don't come to such a man.
There he sits devoid of plans.
For he knows of wells so deep.
In his heart they tend to creep.
All his tricks are but unsung.
Does he know, it's just begun?

For his heart is but so sweet,
Thirsty for the other treat.
Risking it he goes ahead,
Darker paths he tends to tread.
But he knows not what is true.
He belonged the greater few.

Words don't come to such a man.
Sodden heart with hideous plans.
For he sits in wells so deep.
In their hearts he tends to creep.
All his tricks are but so known.
In the dark he sits alone.

But is heart is - Oh! so sweet.
In the soft it will succeed.
On the peak of stints so low
Seeds so true he'll always sow.
If in love you look to fall...
Meet the man and know it all!

Thirst of the conscience

Little boy you think you are,
With cares and worries not.
You break your time jump the hour.
Have you even a morsel got?

‘Still’ little boy, you go too far.
Your place a confused mess.
‘Thrill’ little boy is that your star?
Put your run to rest.

Your run is but a reckless one,
In the zone of comfort not.
For fun is left to be unsung.
It’s time for settled thought.

Listen now! My legs do hurt,
For run do I with you.
Little boy, hear my thirst.
Conscience, you friend so true.

Going Bass

Last year into the world I went,
To soothe its years with song.
But I feared the effort spent.
The fire would soon be gone.

Each practice was a climb so tough,
To scale a pitch so high.
Each song I sang a task so rough.
My throat did itch so dry.

The coming concert looked me in the eye..
“No business with me have you.”
To me it seemed a wave so high,
My dreams it sure would chew.

Then went on, the times so rude,
And came the final hour.
On stage, a frozen lamb I stood.
It sure left memories sour.

But freeze did then the earlier times
As if they never were.
And tread did I on deeper lines
That home my dreams would steer.

Well.... this was one of my early poems that had anything to do with love... Strangely at that point in time I wasn't in love. So this poem does not directly refer to anyone...

My Lighting Ray
23rd June 2005

In the midst of you alone
Run I fast a hundred fold.
‘Cause in me are seeds so sown,
Speak they of love and ventures bold.

Born am I to feel the heat.
The Mighty Giver makes his call.
You are destined for the feat,
You so pretty, you so tall.

Write not I of love so oft’.
Speak not I of persons so.
Though you think me not this sort,
Yours is here I will not go.

For go I may, but you so too.
Where you think, there shall I pray,
Where I thrive there shall you rule.
In my thrill, my lighting ray!

I touch upon this key for it beckons me to think again, Oh!Sure.
For in myself those dodgy ones, Oh! those strange thoughts endure.
They bring to light the innocence in those early thoughts of mine.
Those views that made the path to heaven so clear, the sun to shine.

The Western line is one in which is seen silence uncertain.
The first-class carriage had never a composition so uneasy.
The Mahalaxmian silence, a restless silence,forecasts a storm.
I now prepare to leave this place,I pray, dear Lord, Oh! Saving grace.

This was written in summer'04... in the holidays...one day when i felt lonely. Full of questions .. most of them unanswered till date.... yet now i prefer to ignore them and carry on with life.


To Tell Someone “I Care…”
-28th May 2004

Can I any longer stay alone?
That I really am alone raises questions.
My inner self cries to this tone.
This, to some I do mention.

Are these people really cared for?
Am I just one among them?
Is truth what I hear, I see…
These questions within me bear stem.

There is something that beckons me to think.
After a true deep conversation,
Is it that I have established that vital link?
This link, a backbone to a relation.

Is loneliness a lack of these links?
Does crossing this line make an easy task?
Or like- in- they say connections sink.
Another query- are efforts masked?

So should I traverse a different way?
Or is it too late to change.
But change it’s not, progress I say.
My path to that higher stage.

Perhaps I need to unmask.
It’s not the wealth, not the flair.
So why was it so difficult- I ask,
To tell someone “I care…”

Childhood Reality- 29th May 2004

I was then a little child
Who had no power, no say.
I never dreamt of anything new
Every today- another yesterday.

My teacher’s lives were ideal to me.
To please them being the only goal.
And a visit to the monastery
Would cleanse my heart and soul.

But was life only this?
Oh Yes! I thought it was,
Would I throughout, see only guys,
Dead Sure! ‘Twas in the laws.

Luckily to my rescue came biology.
A new topic, the school censor board had passed.
And in it was a strange species.
For the teacher, ‘twas an uneasy task.

Perhaps I’ve exaggerated a bit,
But this is how it can be.
A year since I left my beloved school,
And that life’s now nothing but history…

12th Nov, 2003

The stars twinkled up above.
Oh! What a sight it was.
And in me was a little dove.
Yes I could fight the cause.

The dove set goals to fly so high,
Yet it seemed so low.
That around the corner was the time,
It never seemed to know.

And when the moon took to the sky,
The dove considered making the trip.
But as we all know the moon’s to high.
The dove with me began to slip.

The dove’s now begun to cry aloud.
Cause the moon never sings, the stars never jive.
Perhaps the conditions behind the clouds,
Are ones in which a dove can’t thrive.

I look at the sun; I rest on a hill.
The heavens open, is this the test?
The sight my heart with joy it fills,
Tell me Lord where shall I go next?

As I walked along the rugged path,
With soul less red more gray,
A wishful thought set my mind a task,
A goal to reach that pinnacle one day.

Then winter went and summer came,
The ice melted, the pinnacle was gray,
Have the Gods been playing a game,
Confusion put my mind at bay.

In this new direction I walked along,
Flowers bloomed and fruit was plenty,
Out of zeal I sang a song,
But what was ahead always intrigued me.

To my surprise I found nothing,
Apples rotted, grapes were sour,
The season it seemed had lost its sting,
To change I deemed it was the hour.

My heart still longs for those sunny days.
Will the clouds ever move and the birds sing?
Yet many men seem to live that way...
Oh! Yes there will be a long lasting spring.