Findings and Losings (Song from the Madman)

One day I opened a book and it happened that it showed me strange things,
said it there stays some love for me in you, , , ,
, , , , , Moments passed of mistaken amazement
for a little while later i realised that i the book was upside down when I opened it that day,
and that I opened it from the end.

Somethings how strange they are, best found only when lost,
sometimes even forever.

Some clouds have appeared as visitors over the sky of life.
And I watch a few drops of rain wander this way and that between them, ,
this way and that...
Those few drops I wonder must have lost their way
among the clouds which have appeared over the sky of life as visitors...
Lost is not always the destination which is reached through lost roads.

It does not fit the seasons to end the way they do...
Some letters of spring always remain incomplete,
and sometimes though complete without the address...
Some songs of autumn go unheard, , ,

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poem by Aman Saa
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Girl Of The City

Girl of the city

What do you see in the girl of the city?
Melodious intelligence or a riding scooty
metro folklore of dawn to dusk
or even more up to the last.
Playing with the rise and fall
of the thoughts of heart
as the skyscraper
now and then kids with the sky so vast
holding drops of life safely
as provisions for defeats in the hands of hours
coming now and then as passerby of the foot path
Flying like there is everything beyond
these valleys which you can see but yet not see,
like sketches of dreams,
a flower bouquet or a stolen sight of beauty
a song of enchanting violin
or be it just an online chatting
What do you see in the girl of the city?

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poem by Aman Saa
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Unknown Walks

There are too many truths to be known.
I do not know where I go next,
to a lie or a truth.
In this journey of getting old,
we might meet again.

Even if two travellers
are with two destinations to reach,
with two unrelated dreams they may still meet
in the same carriage,
on the same track and
share a cup of tea over the same sunset.

You shall never know
who is looking for your touch at this moment,
what you have lost or left in the last moment.
There is a story that you do not know,
shall be read and someone shall remember you,
your smile, the float of a play on your lips
yet, yet you shall neither feel the joy

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poem by Aman Saa
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Connotation Drops

If looking to make a little mistake

I have come to you

Do not ask me why I am so

We had met on the

other end of this song also...

The moment of which some memory and

some forgetting were weaved

And now all over we are in a tune

played on the festival of strangers,

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poem by Aman Saa
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Birth Of Hope

See, now we are left with nothing
A tiny desire of infinity no longer entails our songs
As they embark into the sky like vastness of our meeting
See, we have seen the light of darkest hours
And the cravings that we had are now blossoms of little delights
Now a dropp of failure and defeated shy
is taking its last leave from us
And we are weeping in consoling tears
But see, we have no sadness.
This is just a good bye.
And we have seen roads returning
begin with a small change, a small step that we are ready to take.

Not every road shows you a sign
And the nomadic allegory of life
Comes to life in such company.
We have explored happiness in almost
all of its possible hideouts, caves of pain.
The outcomes were summaries of insides of us.
A poem without language speaks the light of life.

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poem by Aman Saa
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Mad Man's song

Like a lost letter she stood for a while
to go the other side of the road..
near me who was lying in a corner of this side….
For moments, it seemed she was the same soul in whose palms seeking fulfillment I search in mine…
Though in her eyes she was carrying a desperation unlike the one I had
to walk into an exile of refuge from reason….
Yet with her hallowed paleness she seemed very close…
And as I came back from my contrasts….
she was no longer there..
she was walking away on the other side,
as she had crossed the road.
She was then just one among many strangers…
Like an unaddressed letter
I sent my words into the air….
O..stranger! ! ! !

A lost letter seeks its home…
An unaddressed one remains lost, , ,

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poem by Aman Saa
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Traces Of Madness (madman's Song)

You would have said, ship carries us to the water
and wets us in the joys of sail.
And my reason would have raised its voice saying
A ship rather lets us remain dry of the river
And so would have been our fight.
Had there not appeared my madness and being our guide
told our wise ignorance that ship lets us know
that life and death are but two sides of the same coin and
coins cannot buy us more than what we have;
and what we have learnt to own.

Don't question my madness, nor inquire its sources
I shall also not talk of your sorrow and your song's sadness
But if at this greater curiosity greets your heart
know that it is my only inheritance.

I am heir of many lost roads
So my book begins not at a beginning
And I author letters addressed to shelter less souls,
I tell tales those only a traveler knows

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poem by Aman Saa
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Traces Of Madness (madman's Song)

You would have said, ship carries us to the water
and wets us in the joys of sail.
And my reason would have raised its voice saying
A ship rather lets us remain dry of the river
And so would have been our fight.
Had there not appeared my madness and being our guide
told our wise ignorance that ship lets us know
that life and death are but two sides of the same coin and
coins cannot buy us more than what we have;
and what we have learnt to own.

Don't question my madness, nor inquire its sources
I shall also not talk of your sorrow and your song's sadness
But if at this greater curiosity greets your heart
know that it is my only inheritance.

I am heir of many lost roads
So my book begins not at a beginning
And I author letters addressed to shelter less souls,
I tell tales those only a traveler knows

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poem by Aman Saa
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Walk of a stream (from the mad man's song)

A few drops of ink were trying to flow out into a blend of black and white...
A few waves of music were trying to reach to their strings, , ,
to write and sing of emptiness, a little mine and a little yours...
In what is no longer, seeking a place I walk and then I meet mine...
In your flight you try to make a litlle of the sky yours..
then you meet thine....
A few drops of ink dried..
A few wings of failed flight...
Thus of our emptiness we wrote and sang...

Life has often told to me its strange tales..
Sometimes it has called me by my name..
sometimes it has made me meet my soul...
One day though it walked in and halted my travel of the day..
So there I had to stay...
I realised only on nightfall just above was moon to appear
So was I made to stay...
life has often told to me its strange tales...

When someday you would realise after time has but gone away long,

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poem by Aman Saa
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Life's Gamble (Protagonist)

Of a very old story
inside an ancient narration
Though it seems the lighting is imperfect,
reality is a game and
time, a great gambler.
One day we sat side by side
in the rush of a city
For a while our destinations ran the common lane.

Playing music in rusted strings
of a long forgotten vocabulary
we crossed the street.
Perhaps in opposite directions.
Our wrists faintly stumbled.
Your eyes were speaking,
Our steps were in a flight.
a bag hanged helplessly from my arm.
You had a wrist watch
which seemed to show some old time.
You must be quite nostalgic.

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poem by Aman Saa
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