Monday, 5 September 2011


In a pack of cards,
There are aces, kings, queens and the jacks.
But then there’s one,
Who always drew his fancy,
Belongs to nobody,Master of his will,
Gaps and voids are his to fill,
The need of the game,
The smiling face,
Summoned just for a phase,
If life was a game,
Then he is certainly the joker.
Running in and out of lives,
Not by will,
Everyone writes their bit,
Then passes on this quill.
And yet he’s happy,
Being tossed around,
Just at the thought that they need him,
Foolish he is, kiddish, immature,
They just remember him,
When they are out of others,
Or when they have a plan,
And he gladly falls in their hands,
And obeys their command.
His smile never leaves his face,
Or is it his mask,
He wouldn’t let it, even if he can,
After all, you never know the plight os a laughing man.
Not that it bothers him,
He is used to be not a part,
To be kept aside,waiting to be called,
A simple gesture, a touch,
Brightens his day,
His job for the game is done.
And whatever the flaws ,the blames,
They can always say,
“joker was a waste, all lame
He never came”.
Well, he was always there,
On him your hands never laid.
Then the players leave,
Pack shuffled, new game begins,
And sumone in need calls for him,
The silly, simple, smiling, joker...


One can never see expressions on a shadow’s face,
Or does a shadow even have a face?
But it does belong to a living soul,
The one who stares and cares,
About the one in the mirror,
Neglecting the dark one standing behind him.
Mirror shows what you wish to see,
But a shadow is where your true self flees,
The one you hide,
Your own dark side,
Your secrets, your lies,
Your confessions he does not seek,
Neither will he guide you, he’s way too weak,
When questioned on wrong or right,
Even his eyes quiver,
Stranger is the man who stands in the mirror...