Which face is my true face?

Which face is my true face,

Or is it just masks,

Tell me oh my soul,

I have questions,to ask,

Is it the smile 

That's synonymous to my face

Or is it too distant

Too far from all my ways.

Am I joyous or its just a mask,

A mask, a mask, a mask ,

Why did you ask,alas!

Why did you ask,alas!

So many a time I wear it,

It blends perfectly every time,

I feel I will be exposed,

If It falls anytime.

Let me be covered,

Let me in it hide,

This mask is my face,

Let me in it abide.

Suffocation is getting suffocated in me

Suffocation is getting suffocated in me,
It's not able to find a vent,
If this happens to suffocation,
I wonder where will it land.

In my loneliness why did you venture,
You who suffocate everyone,
Today you have found a match,
The one who has you undone.

Remain as my captive from now on,
Suffocated in the corner with hands tied,
You are one of my victims,
Who ventured in this land.

Note: The poem talks about a situation where the poet is in utter grief. This poem was written when I lost my job at Prabhu Dayal Public School.

Yesterday I lost my heart, a poem by Reginold Ajay Jacob, India

Yesterday I lost my heart

a poem by Reginold Ajay Jacob, India

Yesterday I lost my heart,

Today never dawns on me,

Years have passed since that yesterday

Today I can't even see.

Shattered two pieces beyond repair,

I am gathering myself since an age,

Alas, this shattered self,

I surely cannot face.

Don't tread on this land I Pray thee,

See here all fragments lies,

Your steps shall crush them further

One step more and I shall die.

Pass by, pass by, I pray thee,

Don't waste your time I say,

Marble hides filth below it,

Pass by, pass by, pass by, I pray

Hands of the clock are crushing, a poem by Reginold Ajay Jacob, India

Hands of the clock are crushing,

Crushing with all their might,

In front of their mighty power,

Who can ever abide?

Grinders are crushing,

Every grain to sizes,

In front of thy power,

No man can abide.

We are producing icons,

A generation of Stereotypes,

Just like factory production,

That is just alike.

Number plate distinguishes automobiles,

We need not copy that frame,

God has made us unique,

Why try to copy in vain.

Note this poem was written in 1998. Poet questions as to why we should try to copy.

My hands are tied, a poem by Reginold Ajay Jacob, India

My hands are tied

a poem by Reginold Ajay Jacob, India

My hands are tied,

Play the violin on my throat,

I am tied for sacrifice,

As if I am a goat.

Play all melodies,

Play them on my throat,

I am tired due to economics,

I am a helpless goat.

One more prey in the web,

Suck my blood as you like,

I have no power to resist,

Suck me as you like.

Hurt me with strokes of language,

Beat me with discouragement hundred times,

No power in me to resist,

Slice me as you like.

Let me learn from defeat

Let me learn as Man despise,

Even though they consider me worthless,

Yet for me, he paid the price.

Most worthless of humans,

Yes loved by my Lord,

It is sufficient,

In thee, I have all.

Note this poem talks about a situation in which the poet is rejected by all yet he finds his solace in the Lord. This poem was written on the 25th of January 1994