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Saturday, March 28, 2020

Indefeatigable Beauty

The storm screeched through the night,
Poured its fury through sadistic love bite,
Undefeated but smiles the beauty,
Still doing its fragrant duty,
Her holy petals bear
the storm's violating drops without fear,
Holy beads now they are,
Smiles, smiles and no war!


Thursday, March 26, 2020

Croakings from the cot


Little Master Corona

O thou little master,
The world was a bit faster,
You now force brakes,
Lions turn into drakes,
Even newspaper is scary,
No longer a news carrying fairy,
It comes from Delhi,
Fear pinches my guts and belly,
With inhibitions I touch,
A fearful world is such!

The Story of a frost-beaten tree

The winter has'n brutal and harsh,
And my struggle turned almost a farce,
Lost all my leaves,
With loss my soul grieves,
Still not all is lost,
For greenish life finds a host
in the wheat at my feet,
They pay a respectable greet,
My loss and my pain
doesn't go in vain,
Tumbled down as my leaf
with pain and grief,
Blossom thousands around,
Wheatlings like daughters doth surround,
Fell where my tear,
Many a smile this earth doth bear,
Doesn't go waste my pain,
Sows it the prospects of gain,
If not for me,
Definitely for thee!

The Light

The light does hark,
beyond the deepest dark,
There is a day bright,
after the ghostly haunts of a nightmarish night,
After a barren famished fight,
there blossoms a springed delight,
After pining pangs of separation,
there is a worthy end to the desperation,
After crashing in the gutters,
there is a surge and rise to bathe in holy waters,
After crying convulsions on the lips,
a smile takes honeyed sips,
After the last defeat,
still there is an undying urge to accomplish the feat,
Even when blind with despair,
there is hope hiding and cajoling somewhere,
Even in hate, love still lurks somewhere!

Lost

It has been months since
I last lit my faith's lamp,
So many days have passed since
prayers chimed in my dark den's air damp,
My meditating self,
Now gives atheistic yelp.
Lost my faith!
Lost my prayer!
Lost my rituals!
Lost my meditative trance!

The story told by the soul to its own corpse

Once I flew and frolicked high,
Now the flesh and blood gone dry,
The real me withdrew with a painful sigh,
They say, 'I was destined to die,'
It's but the biggest lie!

The Night

Too far and deep, I have gone into the pit of gloom,
And lost in the cavernous folds of the impending doom,
Even the brightest big suns now appear too far,
Faint stars these now and just flash their inspiring rays,
Feeble raylets reaching me cannot take out the ship caught in treacherous bays,
I know the futility of the beckoning light,
Even in its brightest folds outside, hope was always out of sight,
Now i go deep into my night,
With nobody as a witness to my plight,
All cherished dreams out of sight,
A wingless bird that tried to fly but then crashed from its struggled height,
Now I just silently walk into the dark hold of my night,
Alone
and forlorn,
Musicity of my soft moan,
Carrying me into hitherto unreachable zone!

Darkness

Too far and deep, I have gone into the pit of gloom,
And lost in the cavernous folds of the impending doom,
Even the brightest big suns now appear too far,
Faint stars these now and just flash their inspiring rays,
Feeble raylets reaching me cannot take out the ship caught in treacherous bays,
I know the futility of the beckoning light,
Even in its brightest folds outside, hope was always out of sight,
Now i go deep into my night,
With nobody as a witness to my plight,
All cherished dreams out of sight,
A wingless bird that tried to fly but then crashed from its struggled height,
Now I just silently walk into the dark hold of my night,
Alone
and forlorn,
 Musicity of my soft moan,
Carrying me into hitherto unreachable zone!


Holy Fire


I am the moth
and I love my flame!
My fire!
But I feel the burning core of
the glow around which
I helplessly circle around!
I know that I cannot stop
the fire from burning,
So I throw myself in a fiery pit
to forget my dear flame's burning plight!
I throw myself in a bigger fire
so that I forget myself
and my flame's cries!


Wednesday, November 21, 2018

The Voice Inside


The Voice Inside
Forget about the hoot and holler
emanating from the world outside,
And give an ear to the soft and murmurous
cooings emanating from the soul,
It has a soft and sympathetic
message for you only,--
your most personal message,
meant only for you,
Listen to these delicate chimes,
It’ll help you in finding peace in chaos,
In getting a foothold in the stampede,
In feeling rest, repose and respite
in the face of constant buffeting by the world around,
It’ll help you in breaking
the hardest of superficial layers,
which suffocate and limit your identity,
And put you face to face with
your  true self, your real worth,
Listen to it, close your eyes,
And pay attention with all your heart,
Just for a change,
don’t look far, look closest at yourself,
It’ll be as uneventful as looking
at a dust particle around your feet,
But it changes the universe for you,
You will have the biggest message
in the softest of whispering phrases!
And it’ll help you in finding yourself.

Saturday, November 17, 2018

My Mind, My Buddy

Be the seat of my strength, not weakness.
Be the seat of kindness, not cruelty.
Be the source of light, not darkness.
Be the source of energy, not idleness.
Be the source of creativity, not limited vision.
Be the source of love, not hate.
Be the source of smiles, not tears.
Be the source of happiness, not suffering.
Be the seat of optimism, not pessimism.
Be the seat of gain, not loss.
Be the source of help, not obstruction.
Be the seat of leadership, not just sheepwalk.
Be the seat of a better human being.
Be the source of a more loving person.
O my mind, my seat of potential, take my journey further.
Please choose the better half of all the dualities for me.

Keep reminding your mind. Repeatedly. Daily. With eyes closed and fervent request. It’s a very nice, nutritious pre-breakfast food.

Choosing the better side of the pair of our actions and feelings is as easy as flipping a coin in our fingers from head to tail. We are pre-conditioned for the negative end of dualities. The instinct can be broken. Just early morning practice is sufficient. It’s needs much as reminding the self. Repeatedly.

Friday, October 26, 2018

Dewy fun under nightly sun

Swathed in the cool shades of a dewy night,
We stand brave with smiles and innocent delight,
When all sleep, we hold the beacon of love and light,
The moon is our sun,
When you will get up in the morning, you can't imagine how much was the nightly fun!



Thursday, October 25, 2018

Holding a dream in my fist

Staring at the misty past
and forcing myself not to see the future eager to unfold itself too fast,
I wave at the nostalgic strains still beckoning and faintly alive,
How I wish I could dive
back into the pools of the past,
To have my moments last
at a place that held me in its cradle soft,
That pious embrace which still holds me aloft!!

Tuesday, October 16, 2018

Love loops on an early winter day

The mighty lord whispers in a softest voice,
My son grow thou strongest and sire chances for those without any choice! 
***
Though your enemy, I am sweet! 
My neck thus deserves a softer treat!
***

Tuesday, October 2, 2018

Prose in praise of poetry.

Without the seed of poetry there won't be any prose. Just like without the tiny seed there won’t be a tree. The canopy, the full foliage of the tree is just an extension of the dream lying with its realistic potential inside the small seed. The elaborate network of trunks, branches, twigs, flowers, fruits and leaves is nothing but a commentary on the small poetic seed. So all ye wannabe writers, nurture the poet in you, who understands the value of pause in life, who moves slowly to watch everything, sight and smell everything. Whose senses are open to the inclusive interplay of wonderful harmonies of the supreme song, the universe, the one song. Brushstrokes of poetry softly touch the soul without disrupting its restful muse and bring out the nuggets of love, compassion, harmony and peace. If you are a poet by nature then you have the potential to be anything because all these elaborate extensions of your life, your dreams, your professional and personal goals, your milestones, the world around you, all these and more are nothing but a reflection of that poetic pure seed. Love yourself as a poet.

Autumnal Awakening

Oh God, that Hollowness!
Oof! That soul entombed in misery,
The ragamuffin, the beggar,
Great potter’s potsherd he was,
Those decaying, yellow teeth
splashed and sprayed this world
with misery and incurable jaundice.

His trifle weight could outweigh
the fat chickens over the globe,
And eyes ever so colourless
could gobble down springs all.

The ears like the deepest gorges,
could accommodate a billion sympathies
and countless words soft,
The tongue would talk to millions,
if the opportunity arose,
Alas, the milling humanity around
pretended not to be visible at all,
People scampered past with the
careful eyes of a cautious thief;--
saving both their conscience and money.

His emotions lay buried deep
in his famished breast,
This was his treasure trove,
He kept it safe,
Afraid to take them out,
lest they slay these as well,
His bleeding heart would have
painted this planet in gloomy red.

A dog, cat poop, wrappers, dust, snoot, phlegm,
And he just another addition to these,
Almost indiscernible among his insect kingdom,--
Dusting, rottening  petty cast-out.

The accusing emptiness,
And the hallowed universe around,
Holding his mocking lighthouse,
Throwing feeble, exposing light over the
fallacies lolloping under the abounding waves
of the booming sea of hilarity and well-being.


The Feminizing Man
Fragrance scented and colours prismy,
Flowers seduce with surrendering softness
and intoxicating aesthetics,
This alluring, sweet poison slays many,
Parasitically it creeps into
the hibernating, sleepy male vitality,
And the red, gushing blood of sense and sanity
turns into silly swirls of bluish oblivion and foolish torrents,--
A marvelous decolourisation of
flesh, vision and potency!

The woman does the same with the man,--
Her moves lie under the surface,
letting loose tremors and shakes of
tamed beast clinging to feeble, unmanly chains:
the emotions, cooings and the mellowed stone,
Then she slaughters the prey most manly,
Bravo! Salutes to the femininity:
hardest heart under the shield softest.

Weakness has its strength in vulnerability,
Don’t mistake power by the steel in muscles,
Soft flowers and seductive women
thrive on the dew shower of temptations,
Eyes thirsty, pining senses;--
The altars of the insected, infatuated masculinity,
More the offerings on the altar,
more the Goddess thrives,
So many wither to bloom a smile
in her sly eyes.

But her demands from the worshipper
are never satiated,--
Greedy Goddess!
She thus hunts around,
But greed can never make one complete,
So she just remains a fraction,
Men cut themselves to the same
to complete her missing portion,
Happy Goddess then
laughs at the follies of the maimed.

Black bee, man sacrifice to
prove the worth of an ounce of femininity,
Rivers eat mountains, while the stone
cherish the fluidity of the majestic masseur,
The woman meanders to fragment the man,
Making round, harmless, coddle-able pebbles.

As the feminine apostles web around,
The caught caterpillar hums the songs of love,
The spider salivates and chuckles,
The trap of seduction,
The cobwebs of death,
The river thus triumphantly
rolls on with mighty boulders,
The song of macabre swirling
among the torrential giggle and macabrous moan.

Femininity wins through its weakness,
The flowers smile and bloom on showers of tears,
The woman makes the man a means to her end,
Travels on his strong back
to reach her destination
and find the purpose of her life.