NEWLY-BORN
Newly-born and deformed,
it has not cried out as yet.
It will not survive.
But as long as it lives
the parents will fight for its life,- and dread its resistance against death, It’s hateful and helpless,
and laws forbid killing
even if truth were immoral
and contagious..
ONE MORE POINT
The world is not yet mad or cruel
But it crouches;
How can I know in threat
Or in fear?
I have not yet coveted, though
The shortness of life
Exceeded that of philosophy,
And I couldn’t ever learn
Renunciation.
Words, levelled and shot
In incomprehensible hatred Have hit all prospective enemies And I have yet not been stoned.
PHOENIX
like everything else, poetry and love too are born of boredom, pretence
or habit.
And die they must
of boredom, pretence or habit. Not slashed in pieces that bleed
– on both ends,
and sprout again with double haste; But made to grow,
feed on itself
and wither away in an awkward pause.
RELIGION
Stand there, Idol!
With an ever-fixed smile on your face,
And watch me,
Pile sweet smelling flowers at your fee
In silent thanks giving.
Or gently brushing the dust on you
With tense fingers
And tears oozing out in mute pleading.
My each frenzied question
Is hurled back from your never-changing
Till I discover,
Or invent,
My own reply.
PERHAPS, I KNOW
Perhaps, I know
why sometimes all of us are such
exponents of deceit
such born-killers.
While I tore a young flower
petal by petal
And laid a hot coffee cup
on a crawling ant –
I knew I was scared
Of death, my death.
Perhaps, I know
why sometimes all of us are such
pools of pity
such life-givers.
While I nursed a dying bird
And smoothed the hair
of an orphan child
I knew I was happy
of life, my life.
pRIORITIES
There was a thought in your eyes
Uncoiling her tresses
Within the hypnotizing aura
of coloured skirts
swirled adolescent imagination,
and wore her wings away.
The hint of a smile
tickled dreams, till they da rted up
and laughed behind the rainbow
Sighing, gratitude lay its head
on a shoulder,
lazy and weak under the burden
of an unconceived favour.
Life in that moment was enclosed
and thrown into the deeps –
like pearls in oyster-shells
Unnoticed went
your reason-studded farewell.
THE AXIS
A raw moon was eclipsed;
Cradled in the ebony curls of the monsoon sky. It returned to lay,
Brasen, lovely and laughing,
Over the loneliness of the sea.
And its saves softly crying to themselves
There hangs a tomorrow,
Suspended like the wish
Between a waiting and a memory. Rummaging through the martie stars
That seemed so dead
Night’s finger got singed.
It’s a realisebor
Of the ruthless inevitability of death
When one is already corn.
REVOCABLE PLANS
That I may complete the defiance And bask in its smugness,
Call aloud;
When I’ve stepped into the oblivion. The hungry sna sand
Will suck in the doubtful feet,
And fix a muscle
That flinches for your defeated eyes. The raw darkness will eat
Right through the sugar coat Of lacerated humiliation
That lies hypnotised
Under a careless apology.
That I may not re-write my terms – And find them faulty,
Refute me,
When I’ve stepped into the oblivion.
AN INVESTIGATION
Death does not come,
It is born.
Yet, stretched between a life-time
The pain is dualized.
GENIALITY
Frozen shots
of a blue sun,
Pricking the pulpy edges of the sky,
Are tensed with the birth pagngs Of a meteor.
Somewhere beyond the swirling hawk,
And the overfed clouds;
Beyond the stars
The rustic moon and the melting rainbow,
Somewhere,
There wants an answer.
The evoporated energies of the earth
Culminate in a speck,
Which, habitually,
Has misplaced itself.
PORCUPINE REACTIONS
Porcupine reactions
hide the soul of a snail.
Insecurity, and
fear-ridden ambitions
slowly harden into steel-speared
hostility.
All dangers from human hands are foiled.
Blazing night –
Once again the jungle fire
roasts the meat
Uninterrupted.
POEM
Go read a poem in my pyre,
The convulsing smoke,
Hungry fire,
And ashes
KEEP WONDERING
Who thawed the stars so,
They wept all night on the beach?
Wave after wave of stubborn salt,
Who chilled the pearl, I wonder?
HOUSE OF CARDS
Another determined attempt,
Carefully slow and firm.
My heart missed a beat
I held my breath in full
contentment.
It stood straight and still.
A sigh of relief passed
between the lips.
The house shivered accusingly,
And the cards fell
one
by
one
In a crumpled heap.
AN EXPLANATION
Time brazens everything,
lofty mountains
mortal bodies,
even faith.
So blame me, must you?
For letting all those sweet
little remembrances
be rubbed away too ?
The revolving wheel
is powerful, my dear,
and therefore,
before splitting your memory
it neatly razed
my heart to the core.
SILENCE
Burn all words,
It’s time for silence.
Down all sighs,
They speak.
Fortify the land stillness
With steeled laughter.
Eyes Watch
It’s time for silence.
I REMEMBER
I remember you
When I make promises
That are doomed to break.
Walking alone in quiet lanes Painfully surprised,
I struggle to check myself
From humming
Your favourite tune.
Laughing on sentiments, I fall asleep
And awake in darkness,
From a moist-eyed dream. Often, when
I’ve tried to find a way
To forget you
For ever,
Then, so softly –
I’ve remembered you !
DURGA PUJA
A deep vibration moves,
Gigantic drums tremble loud,
Like numerous awe-stricken hearts,
Throbbing in excitement.
Heavy incense,
Sky-rending chorus notes,
And burning cinders fall
About a mass
Of dark, glistening limbs
Knotted in a frenzied dance,
Metal bells clang.
Through curtains of smoke,
Clad in rose-red silks
And diamonds set in gold –
The Divine Mother blesses
And smiles.
MONSOON FIXATION
We rushed out, thirsty,
and held the rain in our hands,
for the well was dry
It rained buds and earthy scent
It rained the koel and coquettish breeze
It rained red-beetles
glow-worms,
frogs and snakes,
It rained the floods,
the flooding desire
to give
Our begging bowl was small
The monsoon was not an usurper.
CHILDHOOD
Cheat me again
with those childhood tales
of talking birds,
or paint a paradise
where Good always wins’,
and every orphan is crowned the k
It’s a long time since I wondered
about the man in the moon,
about the golden roads
of the sun.
Shield me from this sobbing life,
0, tell me again
‘There’s a God’.
BIRD WATCHING
Which was this bird
That flew away ?
A species that’s dying, perhaps,-
flying up and dying.
An indigo and white flame,
Sudden rude cackles calling no one,
aimless eyes –
That’s the dying bird,
the last of its kind
flying
from insulting sanctuaries
to homelessness.
TO ANNU
You frown
when I laugh and talk of death
and you wince
when wiping an eye
I call life sweet.
Pushing me away
when I annoy you teasingly;
Often, you’ve suddenly turned
To whisper a tickling joke
when I’m pensive.
ANTIQUITY
Under the weight
of time,
Or,
By just another
Severe pull,
The cord of regrets
Is broken.
Carefully
I’ve put the ends together
To join them,
Someday –
With a tape
Of memories.
HEATHENISM
Though the mountain sinks
Under its weight and ours,
Help me take another step
Towards the temple.
The wind throws back Its unoiled locks
And chants.
Let’s split open buds
Lest, stunned by silence
Those tender offerings
Forget to wake!
Belief does need testing
When it submits to the most
beautiful lie.
The pronouncement of a tabooed name
Was blasphemous :
Our diety remains unnamed.
REALITY
I’ve seen
The brightness of the day
Dimmed
By dark clouds,
And milky moon beams
Kiss the gloom
Of dark nights’
Shroud.
And I’ve seen
Flowing tears
Glisten
With pure, undiluted joys,
And smiles
That quiver
Like sirmering seas
Of pathos,
tHE SPELL
Wearily, I wonder,
When will the magic cease ?
Swift time has flown
Like a bird
Just caged,
Yet, with sleepless eyes I watch
Silky nights
Brushed by the subtle fingers
Of a crooning breeze, –
Softly whishpering –
“It’s still too soon.
Birth, life and death
Of a tiny wish
Have run their course.
Quietly, a tired sigh
Escapes
From the cherishing lips.
Restless songs
Of the nightingale,
0, when will this spell be broken ?
When will this magic cease?
LIFE THRILLER
Juty, memories and truthfulness:
Are punctuation marks
Which tend to ignore
While racing through
This life-thriller.
Suspense and intrigue
And horror
And that inevitable touch
Of subtle humour.
It’s all so blindingly
Engrossing.
Endowed with the responsibilities
Of the in-chair prosecutor
Of evil
And the Prophet of Justice,
I peek graciously
Into the last pages
To discover
The innocent, hunted victim
Stands hand-cuffed.
(Ditto my presumptions 🙂
BESIDES THE FACT
Just because it is evening,
………………….. curl up
and sleep
for there is no nest,
and no wings
to fold up and hide
under
have you seen flowers
clasping petals all over again
and dreaming like buds
___________ever ?
stop those lullabys, please______
love will wake, and cry
whenever
it pleases.
*******
SIFTED
My every breath
saturated;
My each hour
crammed
by your thoughts
I’ve dissected your memory
with such precision
that what remains now,
is unrecognizable,
Surely, the time has come to forsake you.
......................
……………………….
…………… hit their heads
against a steeled, solid sky,
and blood rains down.
There should be equality.
If the skies cannot grow grains,
the crops on ea rth
must perish.
Thunder, lightening, thunder,
Flood, famine, death.
Raining madness
It’s raining revolution.
HABITS
When love becomes incurable
and persistent like leprosy,
then it’s time to form beliefs
in souls and other fables,
People who revolted against life
and died,
Sometimes rebel in death too
and come back, laughing
to haunt the earth.
AN AFTER THOUGHT
The river swam forth moodily
Like a confused genius
Frightening an infant peepal
With inexplicable mumbling.
Absorbing unconsciously
The self-sufficient world of the
rambling temple
And its idol which professed allergy
To animal hides,
Or so thought the grand – ma
who, we agreed, was harmless –
unlike the overgrown monsoon cloud
That wandered threateningly.
The wind chased the river
And our words
And our little paper boat.
The waters snatched at the sudden
laughing joke of the birds
And reeled around the stones,
Making the head dizzy
And the eyes dim.
Like a confused genius,
The river swam forth moodily
And decided to treasure
The hour that slipped away from our hand
*****
POETRY
You weave lies with inflictions,
and you hate me for wriggling thr. the web
Those honest confessions are unfelt,
that fallacy is most delighting;
but you demand the admiration
for the mundane truth.
The ardent manoeuvrings of a lover
and flirtation with possibilities
are mysteries.
But the earthy parental habit
of fawning over your ugliest creation
disgusts all sensitivity.
SOMETHING RUSTIC
It will be the same even then
As it is now –
The hushed descent of twilight,
And noisy, busy flights
Of brown sparrows;
Or the cool deep smell
Of shady neem trees;
The lusty crow of a cock,
Or rusty buckets
Being lowered into the well;
Thin blue smoke
Curling up like a ghost.
Or merry races
Of sprightly young feet.
Tired smiles
Breaking into loud noise
Of evening songs.
Nothing will change even then,
Perhaps, I may ….
Not singing with thee as usual
On rolling carts;
But I’ll come, yes, I’ll come
With the dusts that arise
Beneath the wheels.
.........................
You will understand this silence
for you’ve interpreted words.
You’ 10 know why your finger bled
while pushing the needle
into my veins.
Why the thunder choked
and passed away
agonised;
You would understand.
DOCK DWELLERS
This poem was born an orphan;
and has waited since
for someone to come up
and claim it.
and it stands on the pavement;
pity, indulgence,-
sometimes even curiosity
lie around.
peace is with snuffed wicks;
it wears no name, and nakedness.
And the world is all
a barren womb,
FOILED
Concrete features
Fade out
Into a mere image,
And then
Into a foolish obsession.
The
object, thought
And feeling,
Merge silently
Void.
Snivelling, I hunt around
For a cause,