The word!

Everything has been said in a word.
A flower bloomed in the soul, at one glance.
Who looted the precious pearl,
From deep inside the heart?
Smiles exploded one after the other
On my jasmine, as it blossomed.
Sucking the nectar from the petals of
The flowers, who sang the mellifluous dulcet?
The chilly breeze playfully whispered
Something in the ears, on its way through here.
Glittering stars and an enchanting rainbow
Appeared in the far horizon!
Nature stood still in wonder, unable to assume.
What was that word!

My modesty

Ebulliently I coveted for a kiss, a sweet kiss;
An embrace on the lips by the love beetle;
I yearned and then my soul stirred.
But my modesty did not allow me to tell you my desire.

In the chilling early morning among the awaking
Blossoms, when you stood near me with your
Coquettish talks and me in the shade of a jasmine
That emitted the fragrance of a thousand dreams,
I turned into another vine and my bosom was quivering;
And I was shivering with my bashfulness,
I failed to utter my craving, out of my modesty.

It was a freezing breeze in the evening while
We were standing on the shore and the sea
Spreading millions of blossoms of froth
Around us, and I turned into another wave of that
Shore, my eyes gazing at the point of your
Curves in the midriff and my pulsating longing
To cuddle you and fondle your vivacious face;
But I could not, as my shyness made me disinclined…

Masks...

Someone said, ‘the face is the mirror of the mind’.
It can’t be the truth since the true face is
Hidden, always behind the mask of grins,
Camouflaged artfully
Over a sea of anguish and frustration.
Love in adolescence could be amusing
And delightful to recollect later, but
It could turn out to be a cyclone striking
Over the ash covered embers of
Reminiscence and may flare up any time.

Love is a delight, when confronted for the first time.
It becomes a burden when it loses its glamour.
The magic stems from the ignorance
That it can never end, and is eternal.
Words unspoken are then heard;
Invisible things come into view;
Without touching the senses feels the touch;
A miracle is happening inside…LOVE.
We call it love with its eternal angle.
‘Oh! Love is real enough; you will find
It someday, but it has one arch enemy
AND THAT IS LIFE.’

Pandora's box...

A music emanating from stones,
A flaring beam of light, in darkness.
An oasis found too late for the wearied soul,
That stumbled and limped through gloom.

Why should the sky be aware of the agony
Of a bird that lost its wings in flight?
What is the need for a garden to express
Compassion in the angst of a blossom,
Whose petals have wilted, scorched and withered?
Is there anyone in this earth, who has ever realized
The truth of human life, and its mysterious ways?

These are like the way of the eagle in the air;
The way of a serpent on a rock;
And the way of a ship in the midst of the sea;
Unable to comprehend and profess!
Our earth is rotating on its axis and revolving
Around the sun, always in fixed orbits;

Like dawns, like dusks
The human lives are infinitesimal as births
And rebirths occur in its natural ways.
Who remains in this earth having understood
The vagaries and complexities of birth?
It still remains and stands out as a riddle!

Miracles!

The thunder has to enter the stage
Only when the lightning displays, its strobe.
The sun can gape out of the horizon only
If the cock allows it by crowing from the roof top...
The rainbow has to give prior permission
To the rain clouds to splatter out.
And the peacock has to allow the sky
To copy its flamboyance to make the rainbow,
Through the pavane it performs, before the clouds.
The birds have to chirp in pleasure
Before the sweet spring season wade in.
The tree will refuse to drop off a fruit
Unless it changes from its raw colour.
How can the rain fall down to the earth
Before the hornbills cry for water, in thirst?
Until the crows get back to its nests for roosting
The sun will not dare to immerse in the sea.

Love hesitates to enter into the heart
When it cannot find a man or woman in this world.
The lullaby sung by mothers only with love
Can oscillate a cradle, for the baby to sleep.
No one can find out the work that God
Does from the beginning to end...

In oblivion

The violin that used to stream out
The horripilations of the heart as
The cascade of serene music,
Has now turned mute, and speechless.
The fingers that fondled without weariness
The deteriorating strings have
Now become strangled and benumbed;
As a flimsy curtain dropped down
At the end of the festivities of spring time
Like flowers that droops down at midnight,
In the final moment of the final day.

My beloved had laid down her head in my lap
And slept, without telling anyone.
In her final all encompassing slumber;
Where even the shadow of slight tremor cannot reach
And in oblivion and obscurity…

Bottled up!

Do you ever see any dreams,
In your meandering life over the oceans
And hills, when your paramour dips in
The sea beneath the sky, under your gaze?
When the wintry nights swoon
With a pot brimming with tears, on the head
Do you still see a paradise in your dream?
When the rainy damp evenings
String together with hues,
The bridal garland of a rainbow, that has to be worn,
Why do you conceal your mute anguish
Inside your spirit, bottled up, without
Letting it known to anyone, who adores you?

Darkness at noon!

Day dreams and milky moonlights;
Meandering brooks and forest shades;
Sylvan hills and golden glades,
Whispering streams and sunny vales;
Billowing beaches and cool coffee bars…
Times were fleeting on swift foot.
Every merry moment has to cease one day...

Far away from the shades of trees,
And chirping voices of fairies around the campus,
Coiled up in the recess of a quiet day;
In solitude, in the company of the sun’s heat.
The monotony carves away the sap of the heart.
The separation creates scorching heat
That of a mid-noon sun, in and around.
Fingers that held fingers have slithered;
Desolate days are like loud moaning in wilderness.
Forlorn, forsaken, abandoned feelings resurrect!
Like the earth’s first love affair...

When was the first desertion?
Who could have made it?
The lover or the loved one?
How many frustrated lovers and for how long
Have out grown the pain?
How many survived?
Frustration and the anguish after
Desertion, is always the other side of the coin.
Both are intoxicating and thrilling;
Both are exhilarating and stupefying.
That is the game of Cupid!

Hopes…

I will worship you standing at a distance
My peerless stunning goddess!
Your smiles look like the superb earth,
Clad in the radiance of the silver moon.
Who can foresee plucking a flower,
Even if it is ravishing on a branch
At our arm’s reach and precinct?

Though it is blossoming in the heart
Bountifully, who can predict if it
Could be possessed and embraced in the bosom?
Even then it is possible to adore it in dreams,
And revere it to the heart’s content, always.

Though the wind may quaver its hand,
Who knows if the blossom will drop down?
Who knows if it could ever quench the thirst
In the mind, though the chalice may be brimming?
Even if it is not imbibed, it is just possible,
It could be always felt and remembered.

Silent Nights...

In the chill of the wintry night
We arrive at the inn for a night, at twilight.
Like dry leaves roving in the wind
We count our small laughter and tears,
Like beads of pearls on the rosary in prayer.
Countenance of love, wake up in anguish
Of the mind, in the surveillance of the past.
And like birds of night, roams in the darkness.
The moon light is hiding in the blue sky.
The sniveling of a nightingale is heard faintly
In the distance, through the silent murk.
The spirit is writhing in pain and will remain
In vigil, through the night.

What is in store for the next day is not known.
The only certainty is, there will be
Again another dawn, and when the day
Becomes weary and no longer wish to continue,
The sun will set, and darkness will
Engulf the fading light like a lover.

So many Mary Magdalenes!

Pardon us, for having done the folly
Of being in this earth as women!
If there is a god, that god will feel guilty
When he identifies how we suffer, with
Our mute desires and passions, with fortitude.
Once we were the springs of passion to the poets;
We were goddesses for lovers who fancied us.
We were cast on their chests as favourite toys,
And were being fondled, as objects of pleasure.
We were laying our heads on their laps; hearing
Their whispers, encharming us with their flatteries.

When we woke up and realized we were hungry
For food, you threw stones at us, and called us prostitutes.
We are Mary Magdalenes seeking Jesus Christ,
To sit at his feet, yearning to wash his feet
With our tears, and anoint him with the fragrant
Spikenard oil, before the crucifixion.
We are the modern Mary Magdalenes……

Wingless…

I am falling to the ground, my wings
Having broken and shattered, on the
Rugged earth of this blue planet, and
With never-ending grief in my heart.
Let me give succor to the wearied spirit in me,
The comfort of the supple cushions of leaves.
The earth and heaven unaware of the woes in
The heart of the humans, always grin.

Another morning arrived with the beaming sun.
The buds of blossoms awoke and opened their eyelids.
The soul is exhausted with raving thirst,
In front of the milky ocean of love
Brimming and fizzing, in its serenity.

Rainbows flower and vanish in the horizon,
And the poor rain clouds hovers in and around waiting.
The pale moon fills its goblet again for another moment
In the heaven, and enter its chamber among the clouds.
On the pyre of yesterday’s flowers dance
Today, the buds of blossoms, happily.
Still the mind is longing for a drop of the milky
Ocean of love, for its parching lips…

Revelry…

We arrived into this theatre of an inn
One night, and together we have started
To play and sing our roles, as assigned.
Now this is the moment real and true!
This is my crystal platter.
Dearest, you pour into this
A few drops of the nectar of your love.
It will inebriate my lips and
It will intoxicate my heart.
Our birth is unknown to us,
And our death also comes without
Fore warning, without our knowledge.
Each end is held by birth and death.
Amidst these ends, is the time for
Merry making, the time for revelry
And roistering without break…

Shadow play...

You are the heroine in the shadow play
On the stage of grief, in the play,being
Enacted in the darkness of the stage.
What makes you adorn a necklace gratuitously,
With pearls of tear drops, from your eyes?
Why do you embellish yourself with ornate
Dresses and knick-knacks?
Why do you put vermillion on your forehead?
Why do you wear a garland made of dreams
On your face, that was hidden in your subconscious?
When the sun and the moon shines their lamps
On the curtain of this beautiful earth,
You remain as a shadow that fades away,
And dazzle, in a stage where there are
No spectators in front of you.

Desperate!

You disappeared somewhere like a lightning
And I wandered all over seeking you as a song.
The garlands I weaved sumptuously with ecstasy
Of your soul have now wilted and scorched.
My Morning Star! Where have you gone,
Shattering my dreams, and paralyzing my life?
You vanished like the silvery moon in the sky.
And I am becoming a cloud to conceal you up
In the warmth of my cosy love for you, and
With a mirthful spirit running after you.
Now I am left alone with its desolate grief,
And you escaped like the morning dew
Into the vast emptiness and I am
Seeking you, becoming a sob and a sigh now!

That was you?

Who lighted an evening lamp in
My reminiscence? Could it have been you?
Is there a blossom that will not wither
By the trampling of vandalic time?
The mind has become a turbulent ocean where
The sensuality of desires has fainted.
We are prone to forget even our reflections;
We are tempted to laugh, even in anguish;
And also, under excruciating pain in our soul.

Today, in my reveries, my eyes shed a drop of tear.
That was a tear of joy and for you alone.
Time has scrawled too many stories and
Many waters flowed under the bridge.
Dusks drooped and withered
To make blossoms, of fresh dawns.
We have forgotten all the flamboyance of those days
And put on masks to cover our nature.
Still a lonely hue comes into the memory.
Was it you who made it come?

Your fragrance…

Just for you I will take a rebirth
And continue together through
Innumerable rebirths, my sweet heart!
Thus I will share my infancy and adolescence
Just for you alone in all my lives.
My heart is a cradle for you to rock,
To slip into a sleep, my darling.
Don’t you reckon my heart beats
As the music of a lullaby, I am singing for you?

The tranquil dawn and the flowers will recite
My dreams, as your passion from now on.
The music emanating from the strings of my heart,
From this moment, will only be for you.
I can now sleep in the serenity of your memory,
Breathing its fragrance from today, my dearest…

Delusions!

If the sun rises in the morning
It will set in the evening.
If a child is born into this world
It will definitely die one day.
If a flower blooms in a plant
It will sure wilt, and wither away.
If anything is filled up,
It will get emptied once.


Love precede hate, and
Tears give way to happiness.
Destiny will laugh at this,
And time will get along endlessly.

A spark of fire can grow into
A wild fire in no time and play havoc;
And the vestige will be the scorched cinder.
Still the firmament and earth will
Remain the same, as though nothing happened.
The ramparts of intellect will always tend to grow.
The heavens have witnessed countless dawns and dusks.
There is only one door that maybe kept shut-
The mind of man; in spite of knocking, will not open.
Nevertheless, it will open once, though was remaining
Closed for so long, at the moment when death enters.
The nature and the earth were, through
Ages, watching the springs and summers
Of this dreary world so long!

Non-plussed!

How come the presence of a person
Makes another one so enamoured?
How come the smile of a person is
Felt so adorable by another one?
How such fondness, diffuse through pores
At the root of every hair follicle
As roaring waves, as flaming fires
Into the inner soul, and make a sea of
Happiness spilling around?

The mind is yearning to drown into
A chill moon-lit pool of loveliness,
And swim around enjoying the ecstasy.
But one depressing thought comes
Into the mind, very often.
That even this sweetness will vanish
One day, yielding place to bitterness.
I am now seeking a chalice of love
That keeps away such acrimony from its content..

Once again a gift…

Could you once again make a couch
For me, with the alluring flowers of dreams,
Where I can dwell in tranquility and comfort?
Could you spread-eagle me on
The branch where your reminiscence
Are laid out, once again?

Colours have faded out in the mind
Shadows are crowding in the haze;
Boundless aspirations of life
Are sighing in grief, and consternation.
I am drowning in the eddies of
A fathomless sea of misery.
Pour me out, the elixir of your smile,
Once again, before we part away.

Emerge as a causeway in the sea of my
Tears for me, to look into in your eyes;
Like faith cropping up as waves
In a walloping, stricken heart.
Gift me a little of the music still lurking in
The point of your amorous eyes
For the last time, once again, before we part..

HIATUS...

Affections, desires, aspirations!
The varied moods stemming in the soul;
The tune of music that is in the song
Is the sublime sound fulfilling my dreams.
Let such music come to pass, in the
Honey comb of flowers and drip down
Its nectar, into the dazzling radiance of love.
That is the rhythm of the torrential music;
The music which dances, emanating
Out of her lips, and the cadence that
Quenches the thirst, of my weary heart.
Let the resonance of it be carried through
The ripples of breeze that quivers the blossoms,
Under the silver clouds hanging above sylvan
Hills of my lonely existence, and make them
My heart beats, sustaining my spirit...

IMPRISONED!

The silent horizon in front of me;
Desolate, and depressingly squalid.
Empty darkness behind me
Melancholic and subtle.
Could the flame of desires in my mind
Flare up in the fiendish blizzard?
Could that flame be extinguished by time?
The flame smoldering inside the body,
Composed of the five elements!

I am sitting in the prison of time,
My hands fettered, and unable to move,
In the utter darkness surrounding my feeble soul.
Who is there to unlatch the cell of this
Prison, where I am serving a sentence?

Magician!

Are you a magician, my mind?
At times you create a heaven
Wonderful and superb
Sublime and divine.
And sometimes you make a hell also;
Dismal, torturing, and agonizing.
You become an angel so serene
And cherubic with innocent looks.
But the next moment you turn out to become
A devil, fiendish and mischievous.
You become a burning fire; then
You become chilling water, soothing the soul.
You will shine like a flame and then
Fade out like darkness, altogether.
You are like the unchartered ocean;
You are like a puzzle that has no answer!

In a moment you become a bouquet of flowers;
Next moment you become a bunch of cactus.
Sleep as the hours of darkness
And arise like a dazzling day.
Bloom like a brilliant flower
And wither like a ripe fruit.
Who can unravel these mysteries of the mind?

Beauty eternal!

Finally, I will fall down wearily with a sigh,
In the lap of my shadow itself, at the end;
One day in the end of this rugged, hectic journey.
I will imbibe a handful of sweet and sour
Memory and sing a song; my swansong!

I was singing once, that life is a carnival,
And I imagined so, as I was running after
Lascivious pleasures from damsels
Flocking around me, serving wine in
Golden goblets and their voluptuous bodies;
And the inebriation it brought forth.

I now realize the futility of my life,
As I find another gorgeous and rewarding
Sight on the wayside, doused in sweat and toil
A beauty blooming in tears.
I will now sing about the grace of that flower,
Finding that it is the angst of love that
Burns out life itself- the eternal beauty!

I am waiting!

The rustles of your sweet affection
Approaches me from unknown distances;
With that feather touch, you titillate my mind,
Once again and carry me into a trance.

The moment when the waves adorn
Garlands of kisses on the evening sky,
Has also faded in the graveyard of horizon;
You come over, my beloved, before the nectar
In my lips trickle away and empty.
The crimson dot on the forehead has fainted;
The brocaded attire has also rumpled.
I am awaiting for you to comeback,
Through this path, in coy meekness,
With pale flushed continence,
In the euphoria of meeting you...

The moment…

If dreams were meaningful and real,
We could have owned the superb heaven!
If our desires could grow wings of their own,
The whole world will be ours to own.

We were butterflies hovering in the horizon,
When we met together and understood each other.
The earth and heaven went into a delirium
Of rapture, realizing the bond it brought about.

We are laps of ripples, singing in rhythm
All the octaves of notes, and music.
When I called you in my stupor from yonder,
And when you answered me meekly,
The heaven and earth went in a spree
Spinning in ecstasy, overjoyed;
The whole nature sang in glee;
The spring dawned around us and danced;
The flowers uttered cries of joy;
And we forgot ourselves as though we
Never existed, except as one entity.

Caprice!

The light is searching the lamp;
The lamp is seeking the light.
Both the light and the lamp are groping
In the dark, to find each other.
The brook and water estrange and part away.
The hornbill explore the scorched clouds
Over the empty wilderness of hopes.
Redolence leaves the blooms of yesterday.
The cage is eagerly wandering to find out
The bird that flew away, from its caress.
The imbeciles are lighting a torch,
To kill the darkness at noon.
And I am awaiting the return of my beloved
Who went away without saying a word...?

Forever amber....

Compressing all thoughts and emotions
Into a monosyllable;
And in a glance to say farewell;
Let us bid farewell to each other now.
The countenance has reddened,
Tears welled up and brimming over,
In those eyes, where exquisite dreams
Dazzled in splendor, once.
Taking leave without saying a word,
In the magnificent lustre of the evening sky.

Is there any emotion that hesitates
To surrender, to silence?
Any lyric or utterance that could not be subdued
By the mind, in its reticence?
The spring time is receding bidding adieu,
Offering its ultimate bouquet of flowers.
The leaves are silent preparing to fall down.
Is there a heart that can’t be suppressed
By the mute will of the mind;
Any sound or any rhythm, beats or cadence
Or music or vibes, that could resist?

A throbbing heart…

The grandeur of the blue sky,
In the face of a dewdrop;
The beauty of an entrancing spring,
In the heart of a tiny blossom;
The happiness emerging out of the depth
Of the soul, as a ripple in a lake,
Through an innocent and divine smile.

The vermillion adorned on the forehead
Reminds the golden hue of the morning glory;
Two bluish fishes gliding inside the twittering eyes;
The darkest of nights hiding in the locks of hair…
Who is this nymph appearing in my dreams?

Is that tears those cheeks are holding;
Or are those the scripts of an epic etched in the heart?
I can hear the sweet throbs of the heart in
A rhythm, like the song of the nightingale,
Calling its mate in a desolate night,
To roost, and share the warmth of its body.

Modesty….

What could be in those eyes?
Mascara of a golden dream?
And the mascara is diffused with
Saplings of love, unseen by anyone else.
What is encrypted in the heart?
It is butter, and flame on the wick
Immersed in that butter of affection,
And cascaded over the chest
By the exquisite delicate hands.
What is gleaming on the cheeks?
Crimson ruddiness when it was pinched;
Anticipating the return of her lover
Turned into a hue, of the springtime vineyard.

Of time and tide.

Time is a strange lover!
We don’t know anything about him.
But we know his sweet beloved, the life!

Blessing her with redolent dreams,
And giving bitter tears of fusty musty despairs;
Will embrace her with vibrant passions
And cast her away with sore hatred.

Will make a hanging garden for her,
In the sky festooned with scented flowers;
And build a palace of wax for her to live in.
Bring up loving children in that palace,
And in the end, arson it with despair.
That’s how the dreams end up!

Will show her unseen visions of Elysium and rapture
Take her away in a golden chariot to show her around
Will sing melodies to lull her heart to sleep
And disgorge her in the desolate wilderness somewhere!
That’s how relationship exists in life!

GOD IN SLUMBER

                                           



Who is blind now?
God, who is slumbering in the high heavens?
Or the man, who crawls in the dust of the earth?

Who is blind in the desolation of darkness?

Groping shadows are wandering through,
In their unknown path of life,
Without direction, or aim.
Even when the scorching sun’s brightening
Light is there, there is darkness at noon,
All around me and all are opaque and obscure.
Humans are building castles in the illusory
Mirages of the mind, with their desires.
Nevertheless, with the sweep of a hand of Time,
They perceive before them vacuity, having
Their dreams shattered and dilapidated
Without any of their fault, leaving no trace!
That is life in to-to!

WHO IS BLIND NOW

Who is blind now?
God, who is slumbering in the high heavens?
Or the man, who crawls in the dust of the earth?
Who is blind in the desolation of darkness?

Groping shadows are wandering through,
In their unknown path of life,
Without direction, or aim.
Even when the scorching sun’s brightening
Light is there, there is darkness at noon
All around me and all are opaque and obscure.
Humans are building castles in the illusory
Mirages of the mind, with their desires.
Nevertheless, with the sweep of a hand of Time,
They perceive before them vacuity, having
Their dreams shattered and dilapidated
Without any of their fault, leaving no trace!
That is life in to-to!

Looted Spring!

There is a strange lover!
We don’t know any thing about him.
But his sweet beloved is, life.

Blessing her with redolent dreams, and
Also giving bitter tears, of musty fusty miseries.
Will embrace her with vibrant passion,
Then cast her away with hatred.

Will sometime make a hanging garden for her
In the sky, festooned with scented flowers;
And build a palace of wax for her to live in.
Bring up loving children in that palace,
And in the end, will arson it with despair.
That’s how the dreams end up!

Will show her unseen visions of Elysium and rapture;
Take her away in a golden chariot, to show her around.
Will sing melodies to lull her heart into sleep,
And disgorge her in the desolate wilderness somewhere.
That’s how relationship exists in life.

At the campus…

Last day at the campus…
Bidding farewell to the loved ones!

They were standing beneath the arbour;
He asked her, looking eagerly into her eyes.
“I have given you my heart and life, so long,
My beloved, what do you want to give me, in return?”

She replied.
“I cherish to give you whatever, the flowering
Season grant, to a blossoming tree.”
“I desire to do whatever, the butterfly
Wants to do with the flowers.”
“Whatever, the dew drops do with the petals of the roses.”
“What the soft ripples always do with the shores.”
“What the moonlight do with the dark nights.”
“Whatever, the raindrops will do with the good earth.”
“What the morning light, does with the darkness, at dawn.”
“What the clouds do with the blue sky, all the while.”
“What the lonely mooring boat in this river, does
With the placid water, when hugging it.”
“Till we diffuse into one soul and
Fade into the soil of the earth, at last;
We as one entity, you in me,
And me in you, happens as a universal truth.
Then as a torrent of love, we move and meander
As one, till our last breath and reach the ocean of love.

To the stars with love…

I asked the stars and the planets in the firmament;
The Pleiades, Orion, Betelgeuse, Arcturus, Jupiter’
And the countless galaxies, in the universe.
I asked them your name, which I did not know.
None of them knew your name!
But they together asked me one question.
“Do you love her so much?”

I told them that she is someone precious
To me, more than the value of all the diamonds
In this universe, that could be mined.
That I cannot be replete, with all the love
That I could muster through the innumerable
Days and nights, equaling your numbers.
I will not be gratified with the quantum of
Moments equal to the number of sand
Particles, this earth is having.
I can wait for her, through ages
Equivalent to the distance, from here to your place.

If she ever imbibes a drop of the nectar
Brewed with my love, and its passion,
That I am keeping for her, as pure as a drop of dew,
It will expand and swell into an ocean inside her.
That will never dry up, but enliven
Her through births and rebirths through eons.

Unheard melodies…

You brought a tambourine of a rainbow,
To accompany my songs, while I sing;
And stood by my side like a blossom of sweetness.
With same dreams, and same splendour and opulence.
Same longing and yearning;
The mind becomes a tidal wave of insatiate
Passion lying dormant, hitherto.

My beloved! I am seeking the nectar amidst
The petals of the blue lotus
Where your countenance blooms;
Let your sweetness sprinkle on my life,
And souse me, to adorn over my thoughts.
I diffuse in the caresses you anoint in me.
I glimpse the gold fish swimming in your eyes,
The pale moonlight in your smoothening words;
Your mind is the confluence of all rhythms, and
As I taste the heavenly nectar of the gods in the notes
Of your tambourine, when you play on it,
I turn to become a tender sprout of the spring.

Magic potion!

Love is a munificent emotional state
Of the soul, in unison with another.
Love between a man and woman
Is a tender emotion flowing through the mind
And will persist so long as this world exists.

Its musical resonance in the heart
Turns anyone to worship that sentiment.
It enslaves the minds, with the radiance
Of the sweet smile, lurking on the lips.
I saw that fond smile once
Turning everyone into a somnambulist,
With its spell and sorcery;
Create a thousand heavens and gift them
With the goblet in its hand, sparkling with love potion.
I heard that invocation of spell.
I saw that ensnaring chalice.
Come, it is for you to imbibe!

Reveries!

Reveries, memories, recollections,
Reminiscences, of the bygone days;
Shivering, cracking, and shattering
On the shores, of the solitary mind.
Impossible and infeasible is the attempt,
To forget a face, once seen and clasped
With the tender fingers in affection.
It keeps on appearing on the screen,
Projected in high resolution and sharp.

Misery is a lonely wanderer, and I am
Invited with the blaring of its trumpet.
Golden dreams took leave of me and left,
Yielding place to turbulent despondency.
Passions aspiring to disseminate,
Are like evergreen climbers,
Endeavoring to reach heaven,
Gradually through seasons, and
Dry up wilted in the summer heat!

PEN PUSHERS…

Illiterate quill and soul, without insight
Once wrote a book, lacking in its conscience.
Tears and smiles, love and frustrations,
Melodrama and myths were packed inside.
A flamboyant cover, depicting the body language
Of voluptuous beauties adorned the front.
Sex and violence, sex orgies and sex abuses,
Gays and lesbians were the heroes and heroines.
Ample writes up, in vintage magazines
Carried curtain raisers for the launching
Of the book, by the renowned publisher.
First edition sold like hot cakes and
Print orders for two more editions
Were at hand; all went well…



Later I met ‘him’ at a wayside book shop
Prowling among the book racks.
A corpse, devoid of the glamour, once he had;
Time changed and new beauties outwitted him.
Tastes of the populace changed and he could not
Write what is demanded, and lost in the battle.
The publisher made a fortune, splitting awards
And prize money with the author.
Now he is discarded! No fanfare!
No more impressive reviews!
It died a natural death, with the author.

Wayfarers…

Who owns the wayside inn, where we find our refuge?
What do we lose when we leave, to cry over a loss?
We meet to share the path for sometime
And then walk away into two directions!

Is birth the preface of grief?
Is death a curtain for dreams?
Birth and death joined together
As life, is just an infatuation, a fallacy!

A rainbow as flowers of smile, blooms
Always, among the clouds, of distress and despair.
A wayfarer will say that he is unable to forget anything,
Just as the path will say that he dare not die;
And it gives its chest for the footfalls to
Traverse on it, throughout day and night.
Died yesterday; born today and the path
Keeps and protects always the wayfarers.
Unobtrusive, unknowing we walk on…

End of an epoch…

Here in this path, in this shade of the tree
We will bid farewell, not to meet again.
We will part here the same way
We first met together at this spot.
The ever cherished sweet dreams
Even if, upon the funeral pyre
May soar up, as unsated passions.
The magnificent images etched in the mind
Would appear again, even if they are wiped away
With the tears, emanating from the soul.

Do you remember the sweet
Promises we exchanged,
Under the shade of this old rain tree?
May be the branches of that tree, while smiling
Again under the embrace of the dew drops of the autumn,
Could remember, those ravishing enticements, now.
May be the laughing and playing ripples of that river
Could envisage the past scenarios, we enacted
On its banks, and remember how your veil was
Torn, while kissing you for the first time
Watching the sunset, sitting in the golden sand…

Of human affinities!

Affinity! Affinity of love
Undulating mental bonds!
Always on the trail, following our life…
Infinite, boundless and endless
Magnetic waves, surpassing birth and deaths;
Encompassing all sentiments and emotions,
Sometimes trespassing on the values of life;
Meeting, and then separating with a yearning
And longing in the soul, to meet again.

We are lone travelers, born as orphans at our birth,
Seeking a wayside inn to rest, in this travail.
Even our meaningless dreams we shared
Are so sacred, hallowed, and devoted;
We identify that and recognize each other by the
Fragrance of our soul, through every re-births.
We are so pure and innocent in our souls,
And that bestow the dexterity to acknowledge them.

Love stories…

All love stories are similar to each other;
The eternal triangle; divine; celestial, tragic,
Sometimes, comical and frustrating too.
Same characteristics, same culmination,
Right from the inception of this universe!
In this terrain when the chariots of heaven
Dislodge the light and darkness
On the rugged landscape of the earth,
There flow the tears of the heroines of
These stories as streams, resembling each other.
In this dismal gloominess of desolation,
There arise and bloom flowers of poetry
Of the same caliber, and tinge;
With the same pathos and disdain,
Of dreadful afflictions and anguish;
Of the disastrous culmination of a tender emotion!
Universal, yet very personal and adhering to the soul!
Trampling over the hearts of humans, lhe road roller of time
Moves on, stamping and pulverizing to naught..

Futile birth…

Could it be possible for the vanished dusk to
Appear again in a rebirth into this earth,
Where the flamboyance danced earlier?
The wick in the lamp looks as a flame
Of a flower, so bright and splendid
That has bloomed in the anguish of parting.

I am waiting for your return, with sadness
Filling the heart, like the monsoon flood;
Fondling the soft feather of vivid
Memories, in the realm of my reveries.
I hear the footfalls of the seasons
Passing one after another, reaching
My ears, faintly in my delirium.,
Pots of moments shatter and crackle down,
Melt and disappear into the earth like rain water.

Why am I sitting atop the coral island, on an iceberg?
That dissolves into the ocean, senseless,
And ignorant of my futile birth.

Forsaken…Forlorn…

An ocean in the eyes
Sweet solace in the words,
Sad disposition in the mind,
Like a wandering nightingale in the dark.
Did the smoldering heart
Emanate a melancholic dirge from the lips?

You were a delectation that was never allowed
To be enfolded in my heart, hitherto.
And now you have become an ember ablaze
Of a dream I have been weaving all my years,
Inside me, imprecating my very existence.
My love has turned to be a tune jotted on the soul,
At an inopportune moment of desolation.
You are a sad melody flowing in the mind
As a dissonance, and my heart is made
To be as an earthen lute left out and unclaimed
In the wilderness, by someone.

Foiled dreams…

Once you came into my life as a florid dream;
One day you left, bidding goodnight from me,
Like the notes of a melody fading gradually,
As the reverberation of a tuning fork;
Tell me whither you went!

You came as a song and vanished like silence,
Albeit, you cannot disappear from my reminiscence.
Are you departing my prima Dona,
When the spring sky has blossomed in its bluish tinge?

Who is crying in this dreary night
Breaking the lassitude, faintly in obscurity?
You came as a fragrance engrossed
In love, into my life’s unfrequented path,
To accompany me, rubbing shoulders all the way;
And became my alter ego and heart throb.
Who is wailing in the wake of this midnight,
While the milky moonlight is languishing,
Like the cry of a wild cockatoo?
As the sky calls out its beloved earth,
Like the starlets invite the clouds,
With their winking and shimmering eyes.
‘Come my beloved’…

Vanishing fairy…

Could it be the heaven descending to this terra firma?
Could it be a dream, spreading
Its flamboyant plumes, in reality?
Or all gorgeous creations of God
Have diffused together to form
The image of a woman, in real life,
And appearing as one entity incarnated?

The blooms dance in mirth when the honey
Beetle hovers over them, with lust in their hearts.
And miles of smiles rollick in their lips.
I am gliding in the frenzy of an inebriety
Aimlessly, without the knowledge of my body and mind.
Clouds that tranquil the lofty hills in their laps,
Embrace and hug the clouds for their fragrance.
Come my beloved, floating over the chilly ripples,
To my side and enfold me in your love!

Adieu…

There is no dispensation for love,
To a maiden who is entitled only
For a mound of earth in the end as her grave
For her eternal rest, and no rights allowed
To have even dreams, while alone.
My heart has turned into a book
Already eaten by white ants,
And could become dust any time.

When I say farewell, I have only
One memento left in me.
To give you, when I bid farewell at last;
A mind dried up of dreams, and,
A soul made destitute.
There are thousands of meaningful meanings
In the words, we have kept unsaid.
I am carrying the stinking rags of dreams
Which we shared unknowingly through withered
Lonely desolate nights and silent moments;
Carrying it like grey and pale dreams.

What is left undone is the slaughter of those
Dreams and I have to undertake that
And lay a wreath on it.
And we both part our ways in two directions
Without saying any more words!
Adieu…

Forsaken!

While I was watching you going away

I felt my world becoming futile,

And empty, and I am made an orphan.

I felt my love is embedded in those flowers

You have discarded after sniffing them;

And there is no one beside me to serve

A little love on a platter, for me to imbibe.

And my conjecture has become true as I imagined!