Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Last moments!

Empty sky above the head;
Wilderness below, and where am I?
I am just like a hornbill in penance,
Longing for a drop of rain water,
To quench the persistent thirst.
Can you give me a drop to wet my throat?

All my senses are fuming in despair,
In the centre, of a sacrificial fire.
(Fire on four sides, and sun above.)
Could anyone be kind enough to
Pour a thimbleful of holy water,
Into my scorching soul and satiate
My thirst, for a moment to revive me?

Death is awaiting at the doorstep, with a hearse
To carry me away into utter darkness.
And when the grills on the cage of my spirit
Shatters, by the flaps of my soul fluttering
On its sides, and shatter them away,
Is there anyone who can moisten
My blistering lips in those last moments,
With some water drops of life, to prolong
My existence in this earth?

Sunday, January 18, 2009

That evening...

The amorous tinkle of your anklet I heard,
And the sweet treads in the corridor
Sounded, when you came in;
Like the golden rays of the evening sun;
Coming filtered through the colored
Panes, of my window.

As a soft overture, when someone touches
The strings of my tense heart,
Like the raindrops settling on the leaves,
Squirting nectar on my life,
I was enthralled to hear the soft footsteps.

When you paddled into my chamber
Like the bee, circling around a bloom
Shrouded by minuscule drops
Of the morning snow,
As the footsteps approached me
I found you as another grandiose sun,
Trying to drown in the ocean, of my silent love.

The golden hue of the sun covered you
In silhouette;
The buds of my ecstasy bloomed;
In those moments, I became one in you
And you became one in me.

The earth and the sky stared to find out
The lover, of this gorgeous bride and asked.
“Whoever is the bridegroom of this nymph?”

The breeze whispered into the ears of the
Flower. ”What will happen to night?”

And a few stars peeped out from behind the curtain,
In coy meekness, and blinked gleefully.

Saturday, January 17, 2009


Come with me my reminiscence, to return
Where the blossoms of golden dreams are
Awaiting for you, to be again with you...
Do you believe that the unsung music will
Encompass all the solitary tunes, that
Emanates from a lonely heart?
That all unseen splendors are contained in
The dreams of a flower that could not
Be adorned on the plait of a bride?
That all the unfading fragrance of the spring
Are held in the palms of a hasty wind,
That came this way and hurriedly left
To some other locations, in its wandering?

Is it possible to keep all the pangs of a life time
In the flame of a lighted evening lamp?

Friday, January 16, 2009


In this flight of stone steps;
In the shade of this banyan tree;
If you could sit with me once again!
I will enfold you with all the flowers that
Wither and fall down in a whole summer.

If you could come to me, quietly like the dusk
Of a monsoon day, I could give you
A complete spell of rain, to chill you with bliss,
And I will stretch as a lightning around you.

If you could awaken as a flower, clad in dew drops
In the winter, I could share the warmth of my heart,
And preserve you without wilting in the winter cold.
Strange and unknown are the paths of our future;
I long to scribble a secret hitherto untold,
On the petals of your tender heart
If you could come to me, at this moment…,

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Oscillating passions!

Goddess of my heart! Did you forget
The blossoms of dreams, we gathered together in
The baskets of our hearts, in the past?
The melody, we composed in the lute of our soul,
Of our love, and its vibrant tones?

Are those flames which enlivened in
The temple of your eyes, with dreams
Dowsed with the fuel of love, extinct now?
Through ages and rebirths I was saving
Those specks of flowers resplendent like
The evening sky, in my heart.
Did the beautiful castles you built in
The air of your day dreams, topple down,
Like a palace of cards, in your life?
A mansion embellished with beds, made of flowers,
Kept awaiting through ages for us to lie down
And enjoy through our nuptial nights.
Did that mansion dilapidate, and now raze to the ground?

This life is a branch of a tree,
Where dreams come to roost
All the time, and desires fizzles and vanish.
Here I am happy of my birth, when I enjoy
A tender breeze embracing me with its love,
A bower of jasmine, where I spend my sunny daytime.
And in there an oscillating swing where passion emerges,
And perchance you with me, all the time...

Wednesday, January 14, 2009


Ophelia and Hamlet,
Caesar and Cleopatra,
Othello and Desdemona,
Homer and Milton and Shakespeare
All are lying in their sepulchers,
Benumbed and forgotten.
Even Kalidasa and the sage Kanwa
Have passed into oblivion.
But Sakunthala still lives in the mind,
In the fathomless depth of human conscience
Alive as a sad idol of womanhood.
She still lives on the bank of Malini;
Pregnant, carrying the embryos
Of her sons in the womb.
In the sacrificial fire, she carries in her mind
Burns a thousand dreams, she pampered,
All through out her life for her future, as
The all knowing time is grinning and guffawing.

The Dushyanthas of this age still thrive,
Forgetting and evading such unsullied maidens;
And a thousand aspirations blow apart, in the torrent
Of tears which flows out of their eyes.
Still the Time grins and guffaws…

Obsessions of a life time...

I feel I am embracing you, when I touch
The soft petals of a blossom;
And sense your tender love in
The splendour of the moonlight;
Your eyes are sparkling stars of the heavens
Shimmering when you are beside me;
Your mind overwhelms with your fondness,
As the bluish sky, with its fathomless depth,
My heart sizzles with the untamed waves
Of the sea, while your countenance
Reflects in the ripples of a tiny brook.

It’s your tears that lurk in the dew drops of the morn;
Your enamouring smile, I see in the jasmine bunches.
The hue of my dreams, are splendors of the rainbow;
The fragrance is that, you poured in my reminiscence.
The pining spring you caused to burgeon in my life,
I remorsefully recollect, benumbs my senses,
While I sit in the closed chamber of my retreat;
And touch the rain drops, through the open window.
I feel the frustration, for the lost specks of your love,
Which once adhered on the tips of my fingers,
That flew away now from me, in the wind.
The pale sky of the evening fills sadness in the mind.
In the gloom of the night, that dismay is writing
On my soul, with the black ink of my destiny.
Again a hope is kindling the flame of
My life, expecting you back into my life.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Forgotten dreams...

Have you forgotten the dreams of yesterdays,
We fondled together and savoured?
The magical notes of endearing music,
Together we shared, through our affection,
While playing the strings on our lutes.
Are those flames you lighted from your
Fantasies, in the inner temple of your eyes,
Extinct now, and has wilted for ever?
They personified the blessings, I gathered through
My rebirths, in wait for you, as the blossoms
Of golden dusks in the garden.
Did those mansions you erected in your dreams,
Tumble down and shatter with those stupors?
The castle which was flamboyant with those
Nuptial bowers with flowers, was waiting
For us to enter in, for many rebirths.

Saturday, January 10, 2009


The heart of a man is a bedlam
It’s a dance floor of chronic diseases.
Each emotion is lunatic,
A wayfarer dying at last, running after
A street car named desire.
The world is an illimitable place,
And in there the poor man is
Like a speck of dust in the sea shore,
Seeking a fallacy called life,
To sleep for ever, before he retires,
No need to foster a secret hope,
No use to show a derailed temper,
Everything ends when the final breath
Is arrested by the Almighty!

Friday, January 9, 2009


Man chase many an aspiration
And God decrees as He wishes;
Ivory towers build in the mind
Are shattered to smithereens;
Sweetest dreams diffuse in the tears.

When we get a flower,
We desire for a garden,
Full of dazzling blossoms.
When we accomplish that garden,
We aspire to have the whole
Of spring for us.
Thus blossoms thousands of
Dreams in the mind, that finally
Wither, in the desolate forest of death.

Is it feasible that gold can
Blot out tears from the heart?
Can it drive away the agony in the soul?
Could any treasure, earned
With out the sweat of the brow,
And blood, last permanently
In life with anyone?
Man proposes and God disposes.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Bleeding rose...

You standing at the grave of dreams,
In the gloom of the moon light!
Do you reckon the sea of your grief
Will calm down, by shedding a drop of tear?
Even when your inset was bleeding
You were dancing and singing, repressing
Your pain, like the nightingale who sang
While its wings were on fire.

You concealed your woeful sighs
Under the heavenly, enchanting melodies,
And camouflaged your tears in the veil
Of angelic smiles, adorning your lips.
The spectators who relished in the
Delightful performance, you showed,
Were never aware of the anguish
Inundating your doleful heart;
And they could not wipe your tears
With their clapping hands, applauding you.

The image adored and embraced by the heart
Has faded and lost its lustre by
Gnawing prejudices and disinformation…
Obliterating, the sunshine with black clouds
Of despair and obscurity of frustration.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

A robot...

Will the thirst in the heart be quenched,
By merely looking into each other’s eyes?
Is it possible to suppress all the longing
Of the youth, and contain them
Only in the hungry looks, which are exchanged?

What is the use of the pollen in a flower,
If the butterflies and the flower remain aloof?
Why is the honey kept in the flower,
If it is not around with its proboscis?

Life is the branch of a tree, where
Small dreams roost to rest in the night.
You came in my life like the soft ripples
Of a brook silently , but with quaint whispers
And smile and a song cheerfully;
Caressed the scorching shores of my dreams
Moistened it with your life and embraced it.
Inebriated like an earthen pot drenched
With the wine of your passion, kept inside;
Gave me handful flowers of dreams, but all
Made with papier-mâché, that could not
Share even a speck of pollen from it!
What ever I saw in the chariot of my dreams
Were images made of clay and were not real,
But replicas of House of Wax idols.
My sweetest imaginations hovered around that figure.
Flattered, she drifted from me smiling treacherously.
I discerned that those sculptures lacked
The heart and soul and was a robot, then.

Friday, January 2, 2009

My angel in my dreams!

Unseen dreams and fantasies
Are magnificent and awe inspiring,
Like unheard music that titillates the senses.
You sleep, my blossom of eyelids,
I no longer wish to unfurl that flower.

I offer you nights where lies beds of flowers,
Bedecked by buds of unquenched passions.
I can fondle you, like a breeze trying
To comb your hair, and caress you with my love.
I will become a dewdrop falling on your
Sweet lips that diffuses in your soul.
I will keep a scented kerchief on your eyelids,
To keep away the light disturbing your sleep.
I will cover your body softly with my breath,
Like the moon light stroking the flora.
I will tap a musical note on your inset.
While smothering your feet, in your slumber.
The lode star is lowering its wick, and fading
To infuse somnifacient light for you.
And I am becoming a silent melody,
Watching over your angelic sleep.